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JB-GROUP
GROUP SEX
Another Hot Wife Tale
by J. BOSWELL (jaybos@cris.com)
WARNING: This work of fiction is intended to be read by adults
only. The author has uploaded it only to known
"Adults, only" BBSs, and requests that you exercise the
same discretion. Also, this is a fantasy -- in real
life, please protect your lover and yourself by
practicing safe sex.
(c) Copyright April, 1990 by J BOSWELL, all rights, except those
explicitly detailed below, ARE RESERVED BY THE AUTHOR.
Electronic distribution (as a text file on an "adults only"
BBS) is permitted without alteration, but inclusion in any
type of "publication" offered for sale (eg., book, magazine,
CD-ROM, etc.) requires the author's explicit permission.
=====================
=====================
This is an adult file, not a sex file. It doesn't dwell on
which organs function sexually with other organs. It deals with
two people. It's the truth and parts of it are painful. I guess
it's more therapy for me than entertainment for you.
......
When I married Janet, we were both 23, out of college, and
beginning our careers. Neither one of us was a virgin, and
during the twelve years we've been married, neither one of us had
ever pried into or even discussed past lovers.
Janet is a "Lady," in all the positive connotations that
word brings to mind. She is a bit on the "proper" side --
cordial, but cool (almost aloof), until you get to know her. We
have had a wonderful marriage, though unable to have children,
and she is my wife, my friend, my lover. All of this is to
emphasize the degree of my recent shock.
......
Several months ago, I was digging the comforter out of the
back of the closet. In pulling it off the high shelf, I also
brought down a small cardboard box that popped open when it hit
the floor. I ducked, cursed and looked down to see books
spilling out of the box. The books were diaries.
In the box were eleven diaries of various design and size
that covered the years Janet was in seventh grade through the
year she met me.
I know what I *SHOULD* have done, but I didn't do it. I was
home, alone, and I began reading the diaries. Over the next two
weeks, I slipped one out at a time, read it at the office, and
returned it to the box, until I had completed all eleven of them.
From reading them, I discovered I had not married the woman
I assumed I had. I had assumed that, like me, Janet had
experimented with sex, to varying degrees, in high school and
through college; having 2, 3, maybe 4 or even 5 lovers over those
years. I had made love to only 2 other women (really just girls)
before I met Janet, and I thought, because of her looks (so
important in the school years), that she had probably been more
active than me.
On that point, I was correct. From reading the diaries I
determined that my cool, formal, lady of a wife had had over 380
lovers in those eleven years! I feel that I'm liberated, but
still, in my mind, that number of lovers would qualify my wife
for the description of "slut."
Can you imagine your partner having a history with 380 men
or women before you? It was a shock to me.
Janet's young sex life was almost too full and too painful
to believe.
......
She began in eighth grade, when she was only 13 years old,
and one of her teachers seduced her. This wasn't the only
occurrence of sexual abuse of her as a child. Just while she was
in high school, several neighbors, an uncle, two older cousins,
two fathers of girlfriends, three brothers of girlfriends, three
men that she babysat for, a father of a boyfriend, a guidance
counselor, a therapist, two other teachers, and a priest(!) all
had sex with Janet. At the same time, Janet was dating boys her
own age, sometimes two a weekend, and never saying "no."
The diaries covering her high school years were sad because
Janet knew she was being used by the boys and men and didn't know
how to stop being a victim. She talked to a counselor and a
therapist -- and they both ended up fucking her!
In college, Janet began to take control of her life in every
way except sex. There, she remained a victim; always "Miss
Roundheels" and the "easiest" piece of ass on campus.
Reading those pages now, at age 35, I could clearly see the
hurt and confusion Janet was feeling, but the words she wrote
were usually happy, full of hope, and filled with wonder at the
adventure she was experiencing.
And it was an adventure. In ninth grade, alone, besides the
"normal" dates she had, Janet screwed two guys in a car after
they dropped the first girl off after a double-date; fucked and
sucked four guys at a party; was screwed by her two older cousins
in the woods on Thanksgiving Day; and, for the finale, sucked and
fucked 7 players and the manager of her high school lacrosse team
in the locker room after the championship game. The only thing
she complained about in her diary was the smell!
Several times in college, Janet fucked two, even three
different guys on the same night, usually at parties. She spent
a long weekend at the ocean with four guys, fucking all of them,
plus several of their friends who stopped by. She screwed at
least five different professors. She was the "mascot" for a
heavy metal band one summer (A summer basically spent drunk and
on her back or her knees, of which she wrote "I hope I'm strong
enough to never again do the gross and disgusting things I did
with and for and to those five guys!!!!") She spent a Spring
Break in Florida, competing with two of her girlfriends to see
who could fuck the most guys (Of course, Janet won.) And,
finally, spent an afternoon and night upstairs at a Frat house,
taking on all comers (Her diary said she lost count, but she
thinks it was in the 12 to 15 different guys range! Janet did
wonder if she was a "nympho" after that!).
......
One angry thought that I had, reading all of this, was that
Janet didn't go to bed with me for months after we started
dating!
This wasn't my only angry thought. I couldn't get the
number out of my mind. It was overwhelming. I kept thinking of
the number of cocks and fingers and tongues that had filled my
wife's cunt and mouth and ass. And the cum! How many gallons of
cum had entered her body?
I began to wonder what had driven her, and if she was a
"nympho." And then, I was filled with bile as I wondered if she
had stopped screwing every man in sight, or if only the diaries
had stopped. Was she still the easiest piece of ass in the city?
I became obsessed to find out.
......
I began by keeping track of the time we weren't together. I
was convinced that Janet couldn't have stopped "Cold Turkey," and
I was going to find out for certain.
I followed her sporadically for a few weeks, and she was
always where she said she was going to be. Soon, I was saying I
had to work late or meet friends, to leave her alone in the
house. She didn't leave and she didn't have men lined up and
taking a number at the front door.
I continued until I realized that I was missing Janet. We
had always enjoyed our time together, and I was shortening that
time to carry out some obsession I had. I loved Janet, and she
had never given me any reason to doubt her love, or her fidelity.
She hadn't lied to me about her past; I never asked and she never
volunteered any information.
I began to relax. And even though thoughts of the cocks of
the hundreds of boys and men who had fucked her haunted me, I was
working to put Janet's past behind me, too. It was obvious Janet
had managed to do just that.
......
All of that changed two months ago.
I attended a farewell luncheon for a coworker at his
favorite restaurant. It was on the other side of town from where
I worked and we lived, but the food was excellent. None of us
intended to return to work in the afternoon, so I stayed with the
crowd, sipping my club-sodas-and-lime.
I was the last to leave. Janet had a "Professional Women"
dinner and meeting and wouldn't be home until later; so I stayed
to enjoy another shrimp salad sandwich. On my way home, I passed
Janet's office.
Bad habits are hard to break, because when I drove by the
almost empty parking lot, I saw Janet's car and decided to wait
for her. I should have just parked next to her and invited her
to skip her meeting and go have a drink with me, but I didn't. I
parked away from her car and watched.
Right on time, Janet appeared at the door and walked to her
car. Just looking at her made me warm up. Pretty beyond words,
she still had her great figure and fantastic legs. The red suit
she was wearing was one of my favorites because the blouse she
wore with it displayed her creamy cleavage and the tight, short
skirt emphasized her hips and legs. I was immediately suspicious
because it was a strange outfit to wear to a "career women"
organization's meeting!
I followed her car from a distance because I knew where her
dinner was being held. When we passed the restaurant, I crept up
to keep her car in sight. Janet drove downtown and pulled into
the parking garage next to the Convention Center. Not wanting to
pull in behind her, I decided to make a trip around the block and
then park.
That was a mistake. Rush hour traffic and getting past an
accident turned my two minute trip into a twenty minute ordeal.
I finally got to the garage and found Janet's car. I drove by it
and parked on the next level. My fear was that I'd never be able
to find Janet in the downtown area, and that my trip was for
nothing.
I was very, very lucky (or maybe unlucky).
I spotted the red suit at the bar in the third and nicest
lounge I searched. I took a table at the back in a dark corner
and watched what was going on.
Janet was obviously enjoying being the center of attention
for three businessmen. She was turned with her back to the bar,
and the men were at her sides and in front of her. Her legs were
crossed, giving the entire lounge a breathtaking view of her
thighs. As she laughed, she would bend forward, and I could
almost hear the three sets of eyeballs click as they gazed down
her blouse.
On the next round of drinks, I noticed that the gray-haired
executive placed his hand on my wife's stocking-clad thigh.
Janet made no motion to move it. After the next round, the four
of them left the lounge. Janet was arm-in-arm with two of them,
and I was close behind.
They walked along the elevated walkways to the biggest hotel
in town. They were the only ones on their elevator, so I watched
the numbers light to see that they went to the fifteenth floor.
I followed.
To my surprise, they didn't go to someone's room. The whole
floor was taken up with "Hospitality" suites for the electronics
industry conventioneers in town. The corridor was crowded and
loud, but I caught a glimpse of Janet and her friends enter a
doorway at the very end of the hall.
I stopped off at one vendor's table, grabbed a name tag and
filled it in with an appropriate sounding company name. I took
my time approaching the last suite, spending over a half hour
waiting for them to come out. When I got there, it was a huge
corner suite of two very large rooms. I didn't see Janet or the
men in the first room, so I carefully approached the doorway to
the second room. It was also crowded but I was certain Janet
wasn't there, either.
How had I lost them? I was certain I was in the right
suite. I grabbed a soda and sat down in a corner chair,
pondering my next step.
I was almost finished my soda when the door on my right
opened and out stepped the gray-haired businessman I had seen
with his hands on my wife's thighs. I had thought the door was
just the locked door to the next suite.
The gray-haired guy grabbed a drink at the bar next to me
and smiled at another businessman with the same kind of name tag
on, "Whew! Hot stuff in there."
The second guy glanced around, "I saw her when you brought
her in. Prime stuff. Both Roy and Phil in there?"
"Yeah, but go ahead. I guarantee *SHE* won't mind! She
told us she was a real party girl... and she is!"
The second guy smiled, nodded and opened the door. In the
seconds it was open, I could see Janet's red suit lying on the
floor. My wife was in there and she was fucking strangers.
I didn't know what to do. I was angry, hurt, shocked, and
yet, part of me was excited and curious. I decided to sit there
and wait for Janet to come out.
By ten, the crowd was thinning out, and a sales rep was
trying to sell me a million dollars worth of microchips. I
hadn't left the room, and, in addition to the original three men,
four more had gone into the room where Janet was. There were
still two men in there with her at that moment.
By eleven, three more men had visited Janet, and only the
sales reps and some drunks were left in the suite. I played
drunk, and no one asked me to leave.
They weren't as careful opening and closing the door and in
the last half hour I had had two glimpses of my darling wife.
The first time, she was on her back, spread-legged and an old man
was pounding her ass into the bed. The second time, she was on
her knees, sucking a cock as a young blonde with an erection was
crawling up behind her. What a lady!
Finally, the party was wrapping up. By my count, fourteen
men had sampled my wife's charms. I stood up to leave and saw
that Janet was still on her back on the bed. Her eyes were
closed. Without thinking about what I was doing, I walked into
the room, dropped my trousers and shorts and crawled between her
legs. Her cunt was so full of cum, that as I pushed my cock into
her, I could feel the other men's jism squeeze out around my skin
and into my pubic hair.
Janet moaned and said, "Mmmm, Baby, the party's not over,
yet, eh?" Then, she turned to look at the man fucking her. Her
eyes popped open in surprise and shock.
"There's at least one more cock here that you haven't had,
yet, tonight, you disgusting slut." I was so angry and hurt and
hot, I was spitting my words at her. "Now I know what they mean
by 'sloppy cunt.' That's what you have right now, bitch."
Seconds later, I had the most intense orgasm in my life. I
pulled my cock out of her slimy pussy, pulled up my pants and
walked out of the suite.
......
I was showering when Janet walked into the bathroom.
I stepped out of the shower and wrapped myself in a towel.
"By my count, I was the fifteenth cock you had shoved up your
cunt, tonight. Is that a personal record?"
Janet reddened and glared back at me, "No, the record's
still two years ago, when I fucked an entire softball team and
the two umpires in the back of a bar. The total that night was
nineteen."
"You slut! You cunt-bitch-slut! Is there anybody in the
city you haven't opened your pussy for?"
Janet raised her hand in a fist, but she collapsed into my
arms. "I'm sick, Jim. I don't know why I do it. I never wanted
to hurt you. Leave me, right now. You don't deserve this!"
God, I loved her! What were we going to do?
Still holding Janet in my arms, I filled the tub. I
undressed her and gently placed her in the water, washing the cum
and sweat of other men off of her smooth, white skin.
She never stopped crying, as I dried her and put her into
bed. I warmed oil on my hands and massaged her legs and back and
arms. I covered her, turned out the lights, and got under the
covers with her. Only sleep let her stop sobbing.
She was gone in the morning. She left her diaries, and as I
was cleaning out her dresser, I found the ones for the years we
were married. The 380 men from her younger years were just a
feeble rehearsal for the army of men she had over those twelve
years.
But it doesn't matter. I miss her, and would take her back
in an instant. But, she's gone, and I'm afraid I'll never see
her, again.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
JB-PROF
The Professor
by J. BOSWELL (jaybos@cris.com)
WARNING: This work of fiction is intended to be read by adults
only. The author has uploaded it only to known
"Adults, only" BBSs, and requests that you exercise the
same discretion. Also, this is a fantasy -- in real
life, please protect your lover and yourself by
practicing safe sex.
.........................
(c) Copyright August, 1989 by J BOSWELL, all rights, except
those explicitly detailed below, ARE RESERVED BY THE AUTHOR.
Electronic distribution (as a text file on an "adults only"
BBS) is permitted without alteration, but inclusion in any
type of "publication" offered for sale (eg., book, magazine,
CD-ROM, etc.) requires the author's explicit permission.
===================================
I take my profession as an educator seriously. I feel that
I owe my students more than the mere contents of a History
course. I feel I owe it to some of them to impart some knowledge
of life, as it really is outside of the classroom.
Because of this avocation, I have feasted on the firm, taut,
nubile flesh of freshman coeds for years.
At 45, still fit, with salt and pepper hair, I've been a
college professor for nearly 20 years, and in that time, I have
sampled the hungry mouths, the milky breasts and arousal-hardened
nipples, the firm, ivory thighs, the slick, slippery cunts, and
even sometimes, the tight, resisting asses of more young coeds
than I can count -- and I've loved every minute of it. I have
perfected my search and selection techniques into a science, and
I can predict, almost infallibly on the first day of class, which
sweet, innocent young girl will be mine before the end of the
semester.
......
The search begins late in the summer.
I am seeking a special girl and willingly invest the time to
find her. Eighteen, and probably away from home for the first
time in her life, the freshman coed can make the most wonderful
little lover a man can ask for.
As Dean of the Department, I always choose to teach two of
the first-year survey courses that are mandatory for incoming
freshmen. My colleagues revere me for being so democratic and
taking two of the least-wanted courses, but I have my reasons. I
carefully examine the student folders for the girls enrolled in
those two courses. Because the courses are survey in nature, the
enrollment is high and I have numerous candidates.
I eliminate the commuters -- I want a girl living on campus,
away from nosey parents. I also reject those with an erratic
academic record in high school -- I want the young scholar who
has never failed a course. Being on Financial Aid or a
scholarship is a plus in my selection, because of the added
pressure to perform well in college. I often eliminate the
obviously wealthy student, because she has grown up learning that
a short phonecall to Daddy can usually resolve a problem in her
favor, and I don't want my little selectee to feel she has any
easy solutions. I prefer an oldest child, or even better -- an
only child, so that their older siblings haven't "shown them the
ropes" about college.
By the first day of class, I have a pool of six to ten
"possible" girls in each of the two classes, and I am ready for
the first face-to-face meeting.
I carefully and slowly call roll, associating faces with the
names. This process is tricky, for I am searching for an
intangible, a feeling. I want the girl to be attractive, of
course, but in a quiet, natural way. I shy away from the flashy
and the "slutty" looks. I tend to concentrate on the "sweet and
innocent" look. The girl who has dated one boy seriously in high
school, and now finds herself away from him, and is feeling
insecure about how they can stay a couple. She's aware of her
sexuality, but not experienced. She's known the "romantic" love
of a high school sweetheart, and the passion of that love, but is
yet to discover lust.
......
Last year began as typical, but didn't stay that way, for
long. It was also the year of my "Irish Lasses."
At the end of the first day of class, I returned to my
office enthusiastic with the number of "candidates" I had
selected. There were four lovely girls in "Ancient History" and
three in "American History." Now, after close inspection of
their student folders, and meeting them in person, it was time to
enter "Phase Three."
My reputation on campus is impeccable. Dean of the
Department, published, and a favorite of the students, my
elective courses are always filled quickly. Of course, the
freshman don't know this, but word of mouth spreads fast, and
they soon feel lucky to have me for a required course. I'm known
as fair (and fairly easy when it comes to grades), and an
interesting lecturer. My assignments are reasonable, my
classroom is relaxed and my office door is always open. I'm
almost another "Mr. Chips!"
The only thing my freshman students have to complain about
is the weekly written assignment -- an essay on the major points
of the week's lectures and reading material. I have a very good
reason for assigning this essay -- it is "Phase Three."
By the end of the third week, five of the seven "candidates"
asked for appointments to see me to discuss their failing grades.
I had failed all seven, all three weeks.
Grading at the University is "blind." That is, the students
place only their last five digits of their student ID number on
all written assignments and tests. All grading is done by
number, without a student's name ever becoming associated with
the product, unless the student permits it. However, as
department head, I had already copied down the ID numbers of all
my "possibles" during my initial selection process. Now, I was
about to meet them "up close and personal."
Debbie was the first, and I immediately scratched her off
the list. She was irate and aggressive about her "F's" and
demanded I review each point and discuss the deficiencies. After
teaching the material for so many years, it's easy to refute any
freshman's arguments, but it still pissed me off to have to do it
with Debbie. I assured her that her grades would undoubtedly
improve as the semester went on.
Colleen was second, and was a definite possibility. Blonde,
blue-eyed, she was pretty and fresh and had a dazzling smile.
She was timid and nervous about her grades, hanging on every word
of advice I gave her. I was charming and she was appreciative,
and I could see the possible beginnings of that special something
some students feel for some professors. She was thrilled with
the time and attention I was giving her.
Susan was next and I took her off the list, too. Maybe she
just didn't compare well with Colleen, but I felt no electricity,
no excitement with her.
The fourth appointment was with Heather, and she made me
wonder if I made too quick a choice with Colleen. The classic
Irish lass, Heather had beautiful, heavy, glossy reddish-auburn
hair framing her milk-and-honey complexion from which her
luminous green-green eyes virtually shone. She was breathtaking
and I wanted her. I wanted to part her red pussy hairs with my
cock.
The last girl only made my life more difficult. Bridget was
not as beautiful as Heather, but it was her full, lush body that
I craved. I wanted to fill my mouth and hands with her full
breasts, to crawl between her perfect legs to taste her sweet
pussy.
Colleen, Bridget and Heather -- my choice had never been so
difficult! Over the years, I had had two girls going during the
same semester, but it was always a possibility that one would
discover the other, and the results would be disastrous, so I
didn't risk it very often. Now, here were three girls I wanted
-- all young, beautiful, shapely, and possessing the "right"
personalties to make taking them a real possibility, and they
were only freshmen for a year!
Not knowing which to concentrate on, I continued to fail
Heather and Bridget, and tutor Colleen twice a week, in the hopes
that they would help me sort it all out. By the end of mid-term
exams (all essay questions, of course), all three of the girls
had a failing grade, without a prayer of receiving any higher
than a "D" for the course.
Bridget cracked first.
She appeared in my office just as I was about to leave for
the evening. She was dressed in a sweater and short denim skirt,
white socks and sneakers, and I could taste my mouth watering as
I ravaged her body with my eyes.
"Professor, can you please spare me a few minutes?"
"Of course. Come in, er... now let me guess... Bonnie...
no... Bridget, isn't it?"
She beamed at my recognizing her. "Yes, Professor. I came
to see you, before, but I'm in even bigger trouble, this time."
By the time she had finished telling me about her 3.75 GPA
(if she didn't count my course) and how she just didn't
understand how she could be doing so poorly, she was in tears.
I wanted to put my arms around her and pull her warm body
close, but I fought the temptation. My years of experience at
this game would carry me through. I asked her permission to
examine her grades, and took several moments (and several
"Hmm..."'s) studying the book.
"Bridget, I can understand your concern. I don't know what
steps you can take to achieve a respectable grade. To assign
extra-credit work, I would have to be fair about it, and give the
entire class the option, and this wouldn't help you, at all."
She nodded and looked at me, wide-eyed and sincere, "I'd do
anything for a respectable grade, Professor."
"Bridget, I think you should be careful how you phrase
offers like that. You don't mean `anything.'"
"Yes, I do, Professor."
I gave a small chuckle, "With an offer like that, you better
watch out. I'll have you raking my leaves and cleaning my
windows. Please don't make offers like that, Dear. After all,
I'm only human."
She locked her eyes on mine, "Professor, you must
understand. I am prepared and willing to do ANYthing."
"Do you know where I live, Bridget?"
......
Bridget arrived on time, wearing sweater and jeans.
I had an aromatic fire warming the room, Anita Baker on the
stereo, and a very nice, white wine chilled. She was truly
beautiful in the firelight. Her skin was radiant, her eyes
clear, her lips full and moist. We sat together on the sofa,
tasted the wine, and began talking.
After I refilled her glass, I placed my arm on her shoulders
and she leaned into me. She was still tense, but seemed
determined to be cooperative. We talked about her small home
town, and the one boyfriend she had gone steady with in high
school -- he went to a large private college on the opposite
coast, joined a Frat, and wasn't calling very often.
I was gentle, and a good listener. Soon, she was lying on
the sofa, with her head on my lap, and I was gently stroking her
cheek and hair. I could feel her relax little by little, sipping
wine (we were now sharing one glass), and talking.
I put the wine down and placed my hand at her waist. I
moved it up, under her bulky sweater, until I felt her warm,
smooth skin above the waist of her jeans. She tensed as my hand
rose along her bare tummy, and halted at her bra.
"I'm a little scared and a lot nervous, Professor."
"I am, too, Bridget. But I won't deny that I'm enjoying
this very much."
She smiled a weak smile, "Me, too. More than I hoped."
I lifted the sweater up and she helped me remove it over her
head and arms. Her bra had a front clasp and I opened it and
lifted the soft cups off her burning flesh. Her breasts were
magnificent. Even lying on her back, they thrust up, firm and
proud. Her skin was wonderful -- smooth, warm and white. Her
nipples and areolae were small and round and centered, with just
a hint of hardening. She was blushing under my inspection.
She let a tiny moan escape her lips as I brushed my fingers
lightly over her nipples. They hardened and looked like two
pencil erasers. I caressed all of her breasts with my hands,
pressing, gently squeezing. Her breathing became rapid as I
slowly lowered my face down to her nipple, and she moaned loudly
as I sucked it into my mouth, between my teeth. She tasted clean
and dry.
I shifted out from under her and knelt beside the sofa. She
closed her eyes and turned her head into the pillow as I opened
her jeans and slid them and her panties down and off her hips and
legs. Naked, Bridget's body was even more spectacular than I had
imagined -- it was flawless. I knew I was truly going to enjoy
the rest of the school year!
I returned my attentions to her breasts, licking and sucking
on one nipple, while caressing the other breast with my hand. My
other hand slowly traced its way over her flat tummy, her navel,
until, finally, it entered her curly pubic hairs. She groaned as
I softly pushed a finger into her already-wet slit. Her legs
relaxed and she allowed my hand to part her thighs. I found her
clit and her hips immediately began a subtle humping against my
touch. A second finger joined the first, gently squeezing her
hard, slippery clit between them.
She tensed -- and then in one strong release, she came. Her
toes curled, her thighs locked tight on my hand, she tried to
pull her breasts away from my caresses as she cried out into the
pillows. Slowly, so slowly, the wave receded and her body
settled loosely into the sofa cushions.
I was hard and excited and I wanted her. I stripped off my
shirt and dropped my pants and underwear. I stood beside the
sofa and brought Bridget's hand to my cock. She jerked it away,
as though burned, and pushed her face deeper into the pillows. I
understood.
Her legs offered no resistance as I crawled between them and
licked my tongue into her still-wet pussy. I heard her gasp as I
found her clit and buried my tongue deep inside of her. Her legs
spread wider, until I felt them settle on my shoulders, and her
hips pumped onto my mouth.
When I could tell she was again nearing orgasm, I lifted
myself over her body and paused. "Should I wear protection,
Bridget?"
Her head made a tiny nod and I opened the condom and quickly
slipped it on.
I resumed my position, with my cockhead resting at her
cuntlips. Almost immediately, her hips thrust up off the sofa to
take my cock into her, and I cooperated by thrusting my hips down
into hers.
As I buried my cock to the hilt up her hot, tight pussy, her
head snapped out of the pillows, and her eyes opened and looked
at me. And then, she wrapped her arms around my neck, her legs
around my waist, and we fucked.
Later, when the wine was gone and the fire was just a red
glow, we dressed. With her clothes back on, Bridget was again
the shy freshman, no longer the lusty little wench that had just
fucked me dry -- twice.
"What should I do now, Professor? Do I keep coming back?
I'm new at this."
I held her hand, "I'm new at this, too, Bridget. I don't
know what happens, now. I'm really quite embarrassed that this
happened at all. But, I want you to know, Dear, that I am NOT
sorry that it happened. These last several hours were the most
exciting of my life. I really don't want to think, right now,
that what we just enjoyed was based on some tawdry barter for a
grade. I just don't want to think about tonight like that. It
was too special for me."
Bridget smiled and nuzzled her face into my neck. "Me, too!
I was so scared and nervous about tonight that I can't believe
I'm feeling so wonderful, right now. If it would be alright with
you, I think I would like to visit you, again."
"I was hoping you would say that, Bridget. It's against
every rule I've made for myself, as an educator, but I want to
see you, again, too. But, you have to promise me that you'll
still study and read the material."
Bridget nodded, giggled a little girl giggle and left.
Ah! Success, again!
......
I didn't realize how successful, until the following
Saturday.
I had been tutoring Colleen since our first meeting about
grades. She was the classic high school over-achiever, doing
extremely well there, but not able to keep pace in college. Her
grades were the opposite of Bridget's and she was desperate to
improve her standing in as many courses as possible. The
tutoring was boring and Colleen lacked the analytical skills to
draw conclusions, but she was still a beauty to look at, and was
obviously developing a crush on her brilliant, patient, caring
Professor -- me!
But now, after the success with Bridget, I saw no need to
carry Colleen any longer. I would discontinue the tutoring
sessions, award her extra credit for her effort, and fairly grade
the remainder of her assignments.
After class on Friday, I told her my decision and encouraged
her to try studying on her own, and I assured her that I had
great confidence in her abilities. She seemed surprised, but
nodded and hurried down the hall.
At eight o'clock, Saturday morning, my doorbell rang,
interrupting my breakfast. In my robe, I answered the door to
see Colleen standing there with a tear-streaked face.
"Colleen? What's wrong?"
"Oh, Professor! Please! I'm so sorry!"
"Come in. Now, sorry for what?" I asked, as I closed the
door.
"Sorry for whatever I did, that you don't want to tutor me
anymore!"
"Colleen, Dear, you didn't do anything. I just think you're
capable of doing good work on your own."
"Don't you like me, anymore?" Tears were rolling down her
cheeks as she looked at me. Her sky-blue eyes were flooded with
them.
Without thinking what I was doing, I reached out to her face
and caught a tear on my thumb. "Of course I like you, Colleen.
Please don't cry."
To my utter and complete surprise, Colleen rushed to me,
hugging me in her arms and pressing her cheek to my chest. My
involuntary physical reaction to her closeness was all too
obvious, but instead of pulling away, Colleen pressed her hips
against my raging erection.
"Oh, no," I thought, "the timing on this is terrible!"
I didn't have much time to think because Colleen's warm hand
snuck under my robe and wrapped around my naked cock. I lifted
her chin up and pressed my lips to hers.
"Oh, Professor! Please! Please make me happy!"
I didn't care what she called it, but I knew it was going to
make me happy, too.
She slid to her knees and didn't hesitate as she opened her
lips and filled her mouth with my hardness. She was very good --
maybe among the best I had ever had -- licking and sucking and
nibbling. Finally, she could tell when it was time, and
proceeded to fuck my cock with her hot, wet mouth.
It didn't take long. I began to come and started filling
her mouth with my cum. She continued until I stopped coming and
then very delicately emptied her mouth into her hand. She stood
and wiped her hand with a tissue and then stood close to me,
seeking a kiss.
"Colleen, how did this happen? We can't do this -- as
wonderful as that was for me -- it's just not ethical. You're a
student and I'm your teacher."
"I don't care, Professor. Isn't it obvious to you? Can't
you feel how close we are? I've felt it since our first meeting,
Professor. I really think I've fallen in love with you!"
The red light started flashing and the alarms were ringing
in my head.
"Colleen, it's just not possible."
The tears started flowing, again. "But, I DO love you!
You're so kind and caring. You're the only one on campus that
treats me like I'm special."
"Well, you are special to me, Dear." I looked at her
beautiful face, and thought about that wonderful, talented, sexy
mouth of hers. I felt my dick stirring, again, and thought that
maybe later I could explain to her about student crushes on
teachers. At that moment, there was something else on my mind.
I opened my arms and she pressed into me. I walked her down
the hall, to the bedroom. Her eyes searched my face as I opened
her jacket and removed her blouse and jeans. She was smiling
when I opened her bra, revealing her small, round breasts, with
tiny, almost red nipples, and she giggled as I lowered her
panties to the floor and buried my nose in her soft, sparse,
blonde pussy.
She sat on the bed and watched me as I opened my robe. "Oh,
Professor! You are going to make me SO happy, aren't you?"
And I tried. For the next two days, I tried my very best to
make her happy. I had never had an easier assignment. She was a
hungry partner in bed -- lusty and uninhibited. Not shy about
anything. We fucked and sucked and fingered each other until we
were exhausted. Between fucking, she paraded around my house
naked, washing up, fixing our lunches, doing my dishes.
What a find she was! And, what a dilemma I was in! Colleen
and Bridget were not in the same class, and none of the girls had
the same major or dorm (part of my selection process), but
maintaining a relationship with both of them -- something I very
much wanted to do -- would be tricky and difficult (and
exhausting!).
Colleen spent the night, and Bridget visited me again on
Monday evening, and that made my decision easy -- I would try to
keep both of them. I would miss the exuberance and lust (and,
oh! that mouth) of Colleen and Bridget's perfect (and her yet to
be truly explored) body too much to say goodbye to either of
them. I resolved myself (poor me!) to the fact that I had both
of them in my life for the time being.
......
I had an appointment with Heather scheduled for late Tuesday
afternoon. She was stressed-out and there was no reason to
prolong her agony over her grades, and I was going to let her off
the hook.
Even knowing that my coed selection had already been made
for the year and she was no longer a possibility, Heather's face
still made me silently gasp as she walked through the door, and I
could see the truly radiant beauty that she was. Even with her
eyes downcast and a frown on her face, she was gorgeous.
After she was seated, I explained that I had been watching
her progress in class and on the essays and was very pleased with
her effort. I told her that it was unusual, but that I was going
to disregard her current grade, start from scratch, and give her
a final grade based on her work for the remainder of the
semester, and the final. To my surprise, she didn't smile or
look relieved.
"I came in here expecting you to tell me that it was
hopeless, and I might as well stop coming to class. Why are you
doing this, Professor?"
"I just explained my position, Heather. I'm pleased with
your progress and I respect your effort. Please don't look a
gift horse in the mouth."
There was something I thought was fire in her eyes when she
looked at me. "And I guess I'll have to repay you for your
kindness?"
"Don't be ridiculous, Heather. I think this meeting is
over."
Her voice was trembling, but she stood and leaned forward on
my desk. "I know what you want. You men! You want me to give
myself to you, don't you? You want me to surrender to you, so
you can make me do disgusting and humiliating things for you."
To say I was shocked would be an understatement!
Then, in a flash, I realized what was going on. In nearly
20 years of teaching, I had met only one truly submissive girl
and my school year with her had been a little heaven on earth for
me. If I was right, I was finding my second. I didn't want to
loose this opportunity. Colleen and Bridget were forgotten for
the moment.
"Have other men made you do disgusting and humiliating
things, Heather?"
She nodded a tight nod. "Yes. A teacher in my senior year
and my boss at my summer job. It was just the same as it is now.
The teacher threatened to flunk me and my boss threatened to fire
me. I had to cooperate. I had to submit, or face the
consequences."
"But, Heather, I haven't threatened you about your grades.
Just the opposite."
She cried out in dismay, "But, it IS the same!" Quieter,
she continued, "Don't you understand? I know what you expect me
to do to repay you for your `kindness.'"
"Heather, have you dated anyone on campus?"
She shook her head. "Boys. They're all boys. They only
want one thing and then they're gone."
I knew I had a beautiful young lady standing before me, and
that she might have some head problems, but hey, I'm no
psychiatrist. I preferred to think of it as her sexual
preference and decided to "go for the gold."
"Of course you're right, Heather. I do expect a lot from
you. I think it's time your `extra-credit' work begins, don't
you?"
Meekly, she nodded.
"Lock my door and come bend over my desk." When she did, I
stood behind her and slowly raised her plaid wool skirt over her
hips, exposing her white, cotton panties. My cock felt like it
was about to burst out of my trousers, and I hurried to open them
and let them fall to the floor.
Heather looked back at me, "Aren't you going to force me to
kiss and lick your `thing,' and force me to suck it into my
mouth?"
As tempting as the thought was, I wanted to fuck her. My
cock was poised at her cunt, and I could feel her heat. "Should
I wear a condom, Heather?"
"Why are you asking me? Just take me the way you want me.
Please!"
I wasn't gentle. I shoved my cock into her and pounded her
hips into the edge of the desk. I was hot and so was she,
groaning with every stroke. She soon began to come and I was
surprised with its intensity.
"Use me! Fuck me! I'm a worthless slut, so fuck me hard!"
Maybe if I hadn't been building up to my own orgasm, I would
have thought more about the severe hang-ups this girl had for
being so young, but, instead, I enjoyed feeling my cock plow into
her tight pussy, finally shooting its warm cum into her. When I
was done, I pulled myself away and sat in my chair.
"Now, Heather. I want you to suck my sticky cock clean in
that pretty little mouth of yours, right now."
She almost collapsed to her knees and positioned herself
between my spread legs. She looked up at me, her eyes seeking
mercy.
"Suck my cock, slut."
And she did. Then, and later, back at my house. That night
I shot my cum in her mouth, her pussy and her ass. She called
herself a slut and repeatedly earned her reputation. Between the
sex, she told me about her bizarre adventures at the hands of her
teacher and boss:
On the night after her eighteenth birthday, her
high school English teacher ordered her to come to his
office. He berated her for her falling grades and
threatened her with an "F" that would ruin her chance
at a scholarship. He suggested that she become his
"special pupil." Heather said it was obvious what he
was interested in, but, for the first time in her life,
felt herself becoming sexually aroused. It was the
teacher's forceful personality that was exciting her.
She willingly submitted to him, and what followed were
several months of bondage, domination, spankings and
humiliating sex. Instead of reporting the teacher,
Heather found herself hooked on him, impatient between
rendezvous, welcoming his abuse. Their relationship
ended soon after graduation, when the teacher moved out
of state.
That Summer, she was working in a fast-food
restaurant. Badly needing the money, she was working
well over 40 hours a week. One night, after midnight,
exhausted and helping the manager close up for the
night, Heather dropped a large container of cooking
oil, spilling it all over the floor. She said the
manager "freaked out," yelling and screaming at her,
calling her worthless, and firing her. He must have
seen the spark he was igniting in her, because he
grabbed another container of oil and poured it over her
head. She stood there, dripping the pungent grease,
humiliated. "Take that uniform off. You don't deserve
to wear it," he shouted at her. She unbuttoned it and
let it fall to the oil-covered floor. Her bra and
panties were soaked through and darkly transparent.
"And those," he pointed. Her bra and panties fell to
the floor. "Now clean this mess up!" Heather got a
bucket and a de-greasing cleaner and began to scrub the
floor on her hands and knees. She said she was totally
degraded -- naked, her tits swaying and bouncing with
her exertion, the oil dripping from her hard nipples,
her ass in the air. Soon, her boss was behind her.
She felt him slip his prick into her cunt as he poured
more oil over her bare back. Heather's orgasm was
immediate and so intense, she collapsed. Her boss
rolled her over on to her back and re-entered her, this
time pouring the warm oil on her tits as he fucked her.
Heather said she was resigned to her "perverted
sexuality" from that night on. Her boss assigned her
the "shit" jobs at the restaurant and berated her,
constantly. Whenever he felt like it, he would call
her into his tiny office, and have her suck him off or
bend over as he fucked her cunt or ass. He was always
rough and callous with her, and she loved it.
One night, her boss took her out back and watched
the two big, black deliverymen fuck her in the cab of
their truck, and several times, ordered her over to his
apartment and she was used and abused by him and his
four poker buddies for hours. She left the restaurant
the day she left for college and had an abortion the
week after school started.
......
Now, she was naked in my bed and was telling me she was glad
she found me, that she needed me. My sane, rational mind was
saying that I should put as much distance between myself and this
lovely, but very screwed up, girl. That she was carrying more
baggage than I wanted to get involved with. However, at that
moment, she again lowered her hot, wet mouth over my hardening
cock, and I forgot all my good resolutions.
......
What a year! My schedule began to look like an old "bedroom
farce" movie, but I managed.
Of course, all three girls received "A's" for both
semesters, but I hope they got more than just a good grade from
their experience.
Bridget flowered into a dynamic lover, relaxing and enjoying
all the pleasures I could show her. She became quite adept at
the skills of love, giving slow, sexy handjobs, and actually
savoring my cock with her mouth. I knew I was going to miss her
and her luscious body at the end of the year, and I have.
Colleen finally admitted to herself that she was feeling
infatuation and not love. We enjoyed each other's company for
most of the year -- until Spring Break, when she returned from
the islands "in love" with a junior. Our final fuck was sweet
and tender. She thanked me for making her feel special and
helping her enjoy her freshman year. I thanked her for her
discretion, fond feelings, and helping me to enjoy her freshman
year, too.
Finally, there was Heather -- probably the most beautiful
girl ever to grace one of my classrooms. I soon learned that I
didn't have what it took to satisfy her needs for debasement and
humiliation. I played at bondage for her, but I wasn't cruel
enough. I couldn't bring myself to spank her, and I certainly
wasn't going to invite the marching band to join us in bed. She
drifted away from me, and I let her -- hell, I welcomed it. But,
I did follow her adventures through my student and graduate
assistant contacts. She soon became a campus legend --
entertaining entire Frats in one evening, taking on the whole
basketball team at a party, fucking the swim team in the locker
room. Unwilling to see her doing that to herself, I talked her
into seeking therapy. Through a friend, I arranged for an
off-campus shrink to see her and bill me. I think the therapy
may have helped. When she was going home in the Spring, she
stopped by to thank me for my concern. She said that her
therapist had recommended someone in her home town, and that she
was not going back to her old job. I told her I was glad to hear
she was on an oil-free diet, and we both laughed.
......
The Summer is finally over and classes are about to begin.
I can't wait!
----------------------------------------------------------------------
JB-WISH
GIVING HIM WHAT HE WANTS
Another Hot Wife Tale
by J. BOSWELL (jaybos@cris.com)
WARNING: This work of fiction is intended to be read by adults
only. The author has uploaded it only to known
"Adults, only" BBSs, and requests that you exercise the
same discretion. Also, this is a fantasy -- in real
life, please protect your lover and yourself by
practicing safe sex.
Wife, mother, career woman, suburban homemaker -- that's all
me. Nothing out of the ordinary in my life -- or so I thought.
Happily married to Phil for nine years, and the mother of
charming, brilliant, adorable, 6-year-old Bobby, I was
comfortable with my role and responsibilities. I guess that's
why finding Phil's "secret" was such a shock to my system.
Let me tell you about it:
......
It was a beautiful Spring Friday and Phil had volunteered to
help chaperon Bobby's nursery school class on the trip to the
zoo. I volunteered to stay home from the office, too, and do the
laundry and fill some "Goodwill" bags so we could go to my
Mother's ocean condo for the weekend.
(My second reason for staying home was a lot more devious.
I thought that if I could get rid of a lot of Phil's old clothes,
my frugal C.P.A. husband would be forced to go out and buy some
things that had been made at least since Reagan was president!)
The closet took longer than I thought it would but resulted
in a big pile of old clothes. Then I moved over to Phil's chest
of drawers. The top drawer yielded more than a few pairs of old
socks that I knew didn't reach Phil's ankles. The next drawer
turned up underwear that Phil had owned when we got married --
onto the pile they went!
The third drawer was a mishmash of sweaters, t-shirts, and
sweatshirts. As I emptied it, a flash of color in the bottom
caught my eyes. When I looked closer, I saw it was a thin pile
of photographs obviously cut from magazines, tucked under the
liner paper.
I lifted them out and was shocked to see that they were
erotic! I was so surprised because I had never seen Phil even
glance at a PLAYBOY and here were pictures of men and women
blatantly having sex -- and in positions too numerous to count!
I didn't even know they sold stuff as graphic as this.
I guess my biggest surprise was that Phil felt compelled to
hide them like a 13-year-old boy. I was pretty liberal, and it
wouldn't have bothered me in the least if he wanted to buy
magazines like this -- as long as he didn't leave them out for
Bobby to find. And then I realized that maybe Phil *WAS* hiding
them from Bobby, and not me.
There were about thirty pages and the theme was the same on
each -- one woman with several men. The woman in each picture
was being, or was about to be, or had just been penetrated by the
men's large penises. One photo showed the woman literally being
showered by six ejaculating cocks! I had to admit, the pictures
were sexy and mildly titillating because they were so graphic,
but they really didn't turn me on (and, in fact, one or two of
them I even considered gross). But, the more I examined the
photos, the more I realized I had been wrong -- Phil *WAS* hiding
them from me. Like a zap of lightning, I realized there was
another consistent feature in the photos -- every single woman in
the numerous photos was blonde, blue-eyed, and had large breasts
-- just like me!
Was Phil fantasizing it was *ME* in the pictures? That
thought was more than a little bizarre.
I put the photos down and examined the drawer again, and
that's when I found something that *DID* turn me on, and more
than a little.
In the very bottom of the drawer, carefully wrapped in a
t-shirt, were two pages from a men's magazine, but there were no
pictures. Each preserved between two stiff, shiny sheets of
clear laminate plastic, the two pages showed their age and heavy
use before laminating. A couple of corners were missing, the
edges were ragged and torn, and, before being laminated, they had
been folded and opened and refolded until the "X" of the center
fold was a small hole in the center of each page. I couldn't
imagine how old the pages were or how many times the two pages
had been read.
I sat back on our bed and read them to myself for the first
time:
......
......
THIS MONTH'S EDITOR'S CHOICE...
Dear Editors,
My wife and I are both in our early thirties, and
although she obviously wasn't a virgin when I married
her, her claim is that I'm the only man in her life. I
didn't really care who she had fucked, or how many, or
what she said about me being the "only man she's ever
really loved" because I had screwed around, too, and with
at least two other women before we were married.
But after eleven years of married life, things had
gotten pretty dull for me. I just knew that a lot of our
friends were probably into casual wife-swapping and I
suggested to the wife that we try to join them for a
party or two - just to see what's going on. I kept at
it, but she whined and said she didn't want to. She said
she loved me, and was a married woman and would feel like
a cheap slut screwing another man. She went on to say
she would be worried about how she'd feel about screwing
a friend or a friend's husband, her guilt, the gossip,
blah, blah, blah. I got tired listening.
Since I couldn't persuade her to go along with my
idea, and she sure as hell didn't tell me to go out and
party without her, I decided to see if I could spice up
our sex-life by arranging some excitement. Maybe if some
spur-of-the-moment fucking took place, then she'd see my
swinging idea was a good one.
The first time I tried something was over five years
ago, with an out-of-town salesman I met in a bar after
work. He was a big, muscular guy, sitting next to me at
the bar and bitching about the lack of pussy in the
place. After a few beers, on impulse I showed him some
pictures of my wife in a bikini, and as he was drooling
all over them, I asked him if he'd like to do me a favor.
I told him that my wife was a little kinky and liked some
fresh meat every now and then, and that, occasionally, we
invited a friend in to help her out, and that I liked him
enough to invite him to join us for some fun.
He agreed in a flash, the horny bastard.
As I drove him to our house, I told him not to take
"no" for an answer from her, that she was a real
cockteaser and that it was just part of her hard-to-get
game. I told him that for her, "being taken" by a real
man was her hottest turn-on. This guy was going nuts
listening to my bullshit, almost nodding his stupid head
off.
When we got home, I was glad to see that my wife
still had her work clothes on. She works in a big office
and dresses pretty nice each day. She looked real good
in her fancy white blouse, tight skirt and high heels.
I introduced the salesman to my wife as my long-lost
Army buddy who was just passing through town. We fed her
some bullshit story about how he saved my life in a
barroom brawl and how I could never repay him for it. We
all had a few drinks before and after dinner, and the guy
definitely liked what he saw and was getting friendlier
with her as we took turns dancing with her after dinner.
After an hour or so, I was making another round of
drinks in the kitchen when I heard some noise from the
family room. I peeked into the room and saw that the guy
had my wife pinned up against the wall. She was
struggling against him as he was kissing her hard on the
mouth and he had his hand shoved up under her skirt. She
managed to push away from him when I entered the room,
and I was heartened to see that things just might get
pretty interesting.
Figuring they would get nowhere with me around, I
told them that I had just killed the Scotch and that I
would run out for more. I said that being so far out in
the country, it would take me about forty-five minutes.
My wife said she wanted to go to the store so I could
stay and talk to my buddy, but I grabbed my keys and
left.
I was gone close to an hour. I figured by the time
I got home, things would be warmed up and I'd join in the
fun. But, when I got home, I found them sitting at
opposite ends of the sofa, watching TV and talking. I
was a little disappointed because I couldn't tell if
anything had happened - and it didn't look like anything
had.
Later, when I drove the guy back to his motel, the
asshole told me that my wife had really resisted him for
a while, turning him on more and more, getting him into
her game. He said to screw her, he finally had to pin
her down on the floor and rip her panties to get his dick
in. He said after he came, he yanked her skirt and
blouse and bra off and told her he wouldn't give them
back until she blew him. He said he was just zipping up
and she was still swallowing his cum and buttoning her
blouse as I pulled into the driveway.
It was good to hear that something happened and even
if I didn't get my shot, I was encouraged that I could
set up some fun things and maybe get her into the mood to
spread her precious pussy around a little. When I got
home, I tried to pry some information from her about what
happened with my "Army buddy" while I was gone, but she
just said he was a jerk and never mentioned a thing about
her fucking and blowing him, and she still refused to
consider swinging.
Nothing else happened until a few months later, when
we went on our summer vacation. We stayed in a nice
motel and met three other couples staying there. During
the week, we went golfing and to the beach with them, and
I noticed the hot looks the guys were giving my wife and
her big tits, even in her conservative bathing suits. On
the last night together, the eight of us closed the bar
and went back to one of the rooms to continue the party.
There was a lot of kissie-feelie going on and I
thought something might soon develop - maybe even a wild
orgy and I'd finally get my ashes hauled by some new
pussy - even if none of the other wives was in my wife's
class for looks and body. But we never got beyond the
little kisses and the party began to crap out. Some
people wanted to crash and some others wanted to go eat
at the all-night diner. After we all split up, there was
me, my wife, and another guy in the room. This guy had
been ogling my wife all week and that night had been
trying to grab her tits every chance he got.
When my wife went into the bathroom, I told the guy
I was going back to our room for some sleep. When I
stepped outside, I heard him lock the door behind me. I
stepped to the windows, peeked through the blinds I had
left partially opened, and waited to see what would
happen.
My wife came out of the bathroom and asked the man
where I went. He told her I went for ice and that she
should wait there for my return. Then he stepped up to
her and kissed her hard on the lips. At the same time,
he swiftly unzipped her sexy sundress all the way down
her front. She started to pull away, and as she did, he
grabbed at her bra strap and ripped the cup off her left
tit. Then he shoved her down on the bed and began to
suck her naked tit. As she struggled under him, he
somehow managed to open up her dress and began to pull
her panties down.
At this point, she really began to put up a fight,
and I almost went to the door, but something inside of me
stopped me. I couldn't pull myself away from watching
the whole incredible, arousing, hot scene. My wife --
fucking around with a stranger! And I had a front-row
seat!
The guy rolled my wife over onto her stomach, pulled
her dress down off her other shoulder and unhooked her
bra. After he slid her panties off her long legs, he
dropped his pants and shorts and climbed on the bed, too.
My wife was still trying to fend him off, but it looked
like she had lost a lot of her fight. After struggling
with my wife a little more and holding her hands to the
bed, above her head, the guy finally got between her legs
and got his good-sized cock in her and rammed it into her
to the hilt.
I suddenly realized that I had one of the hardest
and biggest erections in my life! I was really enjoying
watching this!
The guy continued to fuck my wife for at least
another ten minutes, until he came inside her with a big
grunt. He finally climbed off her and walked into the
bathroom and cleaned his cock. My wife laid there, on
the bed, gasping and panting, her legs spread wide apart,
her hands still above her head.
When the guy walked back into the bedroom, he made
another drink and walked over to the bed. As he stood
there, looking down at my wife, she raised herself up on
her elbow, took hold of his soft prick in her hand, and
gently guided it into her mouth!
She began to suck him off, first slowly, and then
more and more wildly. She sucked him for about five
minutes, until he pulled away with another huge erection.
He then climbed back on the bed, and I watched as my wife
guided his hard cock up her already-filled cunt.
While they were screwing, I heard the couple who's
room it was coming up the steps. I ducked around the
corner to get out of sight and was surprised to see that
the drapes on the sliding door on the beach side were
wide open. I stepped into the shadows to watch from my
new front-row seat.
The first guy and my wife didn't stop screwing when
the couple opened the door. The wife said she didn't
like what was going on in their room and her husband told
her to go back down to the diner ("In case it gets ugly,"
he said) and he would get rid of the screwing couple.
The wife was barely out the door, when the second
guy stripped off his clothes and got on the bed. He
immediately began sucking my wife's big tits, and then
soon slid up to where he could press his erect cock
against my wife's lips. The slut didn't hesitate an
instant. She sucked him deep into her mouth! I watched
her take both of these studs on at once!
The first guy finally had his second orgasm in her
pussy and rolled off her. The second husband immediately
slid into position and began pounding away in my wife's
noisy-wet cunt. He only took a few minutes to cum, and
after he was finished, the two men laid there, totally
exhausted.
To my shock and amazement, my wife got up and
paraded around the room totally naked. After she tossed
down a shot of booze like a pro, she asked if either of
the guys was ready to go again. They both moaned and
said they were spent.
As she bent to pick up her clothes, I raced back to
our room, undressed, and slid under the covers pretending
to be asleep. She came in soon after me, quickly
showered and got in bed with me, falling asleep almost
immediately.
The following morning she asked me where the hell I
went the night before. I said I had told the other guy
I was going back to our room and that she could follow or
stay and party if she wanted to. I bugged her about what
happened, but she never said a word about it! She said
they just sat around talking and drinking.
After seeing the way she acted like a true, cheap,
low-bred, slut-tramp whore in that motel room, I again
approached her about swinging. Much to my surprise, she
still refused. I couldn't figure what her problem was.
I had watched her be a real whore for two strangers, and
knew she had fucked and sucked another guy's balls dry,
so why wouldn't she agree to a little friendly swapping?
We argued about it a little more, but I soon let it drop.
Instead, I realized how much fun I was having
manipulating her into different situations and watching
her whore for other men. I began to keep a notebook with
dates and times, places and names (where I knew them),
and how I had set up the situation. Over the past five
years, I have set up thirty-two different arrangements
that have resulted in at least ninety-eight different men
enjoying my wife's raunchy sexual talents. Each one of
the arrangements was a different set of circumstances,
and I'm proud of my ability at inventing them.
There have been some great scenes!
One night, I gave a guy I met in a bar my address
and set it up that he and three friends would burgle my
house so I could make an insurance claim on an old TV.
He asked if anyone would be home, and I said, "You should
be so lucky -- my wife is the easiest piece of ass in the
world!" And she was. Two of the burglars held her down
for her first fuck, but after that, she fucked and sucked
all four of them dry. And I watched the whole thing from
our bedroom window!
She fucked and sucked guys everywhere! In motel
rooms, on a pool table in the back of a bar, in bar and
mall parking lots, a weekend in a mountain cabin with
five guys, and even in a Frat house full of drunk, horny
young studs after the Homecoming Game!
The best and the worst time was when I took her to
the Big Stampede and Rodeo in Calgary, Canada. On the
last day, as we were strolling around the horse barn
area, I told a group of dirty, sweaty cowpokes that the
woman walking along behind me in the short yellow dress
was an expensive, cockteasing hooker with a real "BITCH"
attitude and if they wanted some fun, they should try her
out in the barn. They were drunk and horny and stupid
enough to try anything and I quickly climbed up into the
loft as they waited for the hooker in the short yellow
dress.
They started talking to my wife as she walked by and
when she shook her head at their rude and lewd
propositions and tried to leave, the cowboys grabbed her
and dragged her into the back of the barn. She yelled
and fought a little, but they threw her on a bunch of
dirty blankets and ripped her clothes off her and I
watched - for the next hour - while what seemed like
every cowboy in Canada took his turn in her mouth, cunt
and ass. When they finally finished with her, they left
her bare-assed naked, covered with cum, sweat, dirt, beer
and booze. I watched as she stood on wobbly legs and
stumbled to the open door. When another group of cowboys
from across the way saw her standing there naked, they
ran over and carried her off into another barn.
By the time I got down from the loft, she was no
where to be seen. I searched till I finally left the
area and returned later, looking for her. I checked and
rechecked the motel room and looked in all the bars, too.
I even reported her missing to the security people, but
they weren't worried, telling me she just got lost in the
crowd. Of course, I knew, but couldn't tell them, that
the last time I saw her she was naked as a baby in the
barn area with all those horny cowboys!
Finally, at about four in the morning, I heard the
motel room door open. I pretended to be asleep as she
and some man stepped inside. I heard her thank him for
the blanket and the ride home as she handed him the
cloth. He grabbed her big tits and said he wanted to
fuck her again. My wife shushed him to be quiet and she
laid down on the floor. The guy dropped his pants and
fucked her hard, right there, in the room with her
husband! He left, and she crawled into the other bed and
immediately fell asleep. She was so exhausted, she
didn't even stir when I removed the sheet and looked at
her body covered with dirt, stale booze, cum, and love
marks.
Believe it or not, she still never mentioned any of
these events to me. The next day, she told me she had
lost her purse and spent all that time she was gone
looking for it and waiting for it to show up at the "lost
and found" booth. What bullshit! I guess I never will
know how many cowboys screwed her that day!
Anyway, I love what I've worked out. I wish I could
watch her fuck and suck ten different guys every night of
the year!
In five years, the only scene I arranged that she
balked at was when I tried to set up a party at a nearby
Army base. I wanted to see just how many men she could
screw at one time, without stopping. Some GI I met in a
bar was going to get us into one of the barracks and just
let the guys line up until she couldn't take any more, or
there were no guys left. I told the GI that I was
bringing a real, live nymphomaniac, and that there was no
limit to the number of cocks she could handle. He said
that he could easily guarantee fifty guys, probably more.
I guess she got wind of the fact that the "party" was
going to be an all-night gang-bang, and I could never set
it up with her.
I still enjoy setting up situations for guys to
screw my wife, but I don't think she wants any more out-
of-control mass sex encounters - like the rodeo - so I
try to limit the number of men to four or five, or less.
With all this sex she has participated in, she has never
once mentioned any of it to me. But, I think she
probably knows that I'm responsible for all or most of it
(or, at least, that I know and cooperate). I don't know
if she knows I love watching it, but from watching her in
action, I know she's a cheap slut who damn well loves
every second of it!
--- signed "Master Match Maker"
.......
.......
What an outrageous tale!
I just sat there on the bed, and let my breathing calm down.
I wasn't sure exactly which parts had turned me on. Maybe it was
the forbidden sex, or being taken, or even the gang-bangs (all
are deep, forbidden, *NASTY* thoughts for a "nice" woman like me
to think). It certainly wasn't the author. I thought he was a
creep and an asshole, who couldn't even personalize "his wife"
with a name in his long letter. I couldn't figure why the wife
wouldn't mention anything to her husband, except that maybe he
was such a creep and she didn't care if he knew or not, or she
didn't want to give him the satisfaction that she knew they were
his games.
Then I began thinking about finding the letter hidden away
in Phil's drawer. Were the letter and the photos a strong and
recurring fantasy for Phil? Did he want to see me take on groups
of strangers? Bizarre, and not like Phil at all, but what else
was I to think?
Then I wondered... Had Phil ever tried to set up an
"arrangement" and I didn't realize it at the time?
I sat there thinking about that, and one time I could
remember was about 18 months ago when Phil was hosting a poker
night. All his poker buddies were at the house when he called
from the office and said he would be very late, but that they
should stay, play cards, and eat the food -- which they did. I
retired to the bedroom and read a novel for the night. Phil
showed up about an hour after he called and played cards with his
friends. I couldn't remember if he tried to pump me for
information about what had happened before he got home, but not
having read the letter, I would have never made the connection.
Then another time came to mind. Not long after we were
married, Phil and I went on a fishing trip and I was the only
woman. We drove down in the afternoon and stayed in a motel
overnight, going out on the boat before dawn, the next day. Phil
and I had dinner and, later, drinks that night with four other
fishermen in our motel room.
And there were other times that now, in light of the letter
I just read, seemed suspicious. A big company picnic where Phil
just disappeared for an hour or so, a night at a bar after a
softball game, when Phil went out to the car to sleep -- even on
our honeymoon! How long had Phil had the letter?
I really began to wonder.
I began to read the letter, again. And this time, I found
myself lowering the zipper on my jeans and letting my hand move
under my panties, until my fingers found my already-hard and wet
clit. I gently stroked and squeezed the little nub as I read the
letter over and over, until, in a great rush, I had a long and
wonderful orgasm.
After I composed myself, I carefully replaced the pages and
photos just as I had found them in Phil's drawer and decided I
would act like I had never found the letter and photos. If my
husband wanted to have a little secret, he certainly deserved
some privacy about it.
And then I realized something. I had used the letter to
turn me on and help me reach an orgasm, just as I'm sure Phil had
used it in the past. Now, we had both masturbated reading the
same thing. That letter was a turn-on for both of us!
......
Life resumed its regular rhythms, and nothing out of the
ordinary occurred. Occasionally, I'd check Phil's drawer and I
could tell the pictures and the letters had been handled, but I
never saw Phil anywhere near them.
......
The following winter I received notice of my 15th high
school reunion to be held that spring.
My family had moved halfway across the country one week
after my graduation and I hadn't seen any of my high school
friends in those fifteen years. I hadn't been the most popular
girl in high school (I had been a little too "pudgy" -- too
"husky" -- too "big-boned" for that), but I had had a lot of
friends and been active in several groups and clubs, and was
anxious to see some old friends.
Because of finances, I had missed my tenth reunion and
regretted it. Fortunately, money wasn't a problem this time, and
Phil readily agreed to go with me. My mom and dad agreed to
watch Bobby for the long weekend.
I quickly filled out the "what-have-you-been-up-to?"
questionnaire and paid for our tickets. I knew it wouldn't be as
big a reunion as the tenth or twentieth, but I was looking
forward to going, anyway. My home town was fairly small and I
hoped most of the people I remembered would still be there.
I began to check myself out in the mirror often. I knew I
was in pretty good shape -- much better shape than I had been in
during high school -- but I up'ed my cycling and aerobics
routines to firm up and slim down as much as I could. Phil
noticed and approved.
A couple of weeks before the reunion, Phil and I were
sitting up, reading in bed. Out of the blue, Phil asked me if I
was ready to see some of the guys I had dated in high school.
I said, "sure."
"Did you date a lot in high school, Janice?" he asked.
"No, not a lot. You have to remember, in high school I was
still in my chubby phase. I was Marge Pearson's chubby daughter.
It wasn't until college when I got away from my mother's cooking
and discovered swimming that I slimmed down and firmed up."
"Ah... So it was in college you dated a lot."
"I sure did, honey. I had a lot of lonely Saturday nights
to make up for. *AND* I was a cheerleader -- I had a
responsibility to my public." I was trying to keep the
conversation light and fun. In fact, I had been a little on the
wild side in college. I had dated a lot of the jocks, sometimes
two or three at a time, nothing kinky, but often one on each
night of the weekend. I settled down in grad school and met Phil
there, but college had been fun -- no doubt about that.
"So, it's true, what we non-athletes think about
cheerleaders and football players?"
Obviously, my high school reunion was forgotten, and Phil
wanted to hear about my cheerleading days. I closed my book,
chuckling, "Well, let's just say I dated a football player or
two. I knew it was part of my job description. What exactly did
you non-athletes think about us? I'm sure it was perverted!"
"Well, those of us in the accounting club often discussed
the rumors of wild sex orgies in the locker rooms after games.
And how the cheerleaders would do *ANYTHING* to boost team
morale."
"You accountants-to-be were one hundred percent right.
That's exactly what went on."
Phil froze, and then his head spun to look at me. "Really?
Are you serious, Janice?" he asked anxiously.
My smile broke into a laugh, "No! Of course I'm not being
serious, honey. What do you think I am -- or was? If anything
like that went on, I didn't hear about it. Just the thought of
the locker room -- those dirty, sweaty bodies after a game --
UGH! Can you imagine the smell?"
I pinched my nose closed and shook my head.
"I'm very sorry to shatter your male fantasies about us
slutty cheerleaders -- we were just your normal, everyday
beauties worried about dates and homework and pimples, just like
everyone else."
Phil was laughing with me, "well, you slutty cheerleaders
and your wild orgies were a lot more fun to talk about at our
accounting club meetings than balance sheets and number-2
pencils!"
A few minutes later, Phil quietly asked, "Are there any old
flames in particular you're looking forward to seeing at the
reunion, Janice?"
I took Phil's hand and held it in mine, "Honey, I'm looking
forward to seeing everybody. I didn't date the hunks I had
crushes on. I'm not trying to cop-out on you, but there isn't
anyone I dated, in high school *OR* college, that I still have
any `special' feelings for. I saved all my special feelings for
you." I gently moved his hand under the deep V-neck of my
nightie and placed it on my bare breast.
Phil was always good at getting my hints, and it was quite a
while before we got to sleep that night.
......
On Saturday, several days after our "locker room orgy"
conversation, I was in Bobby's room when the phone rang. Phil
was in the bathroom, so I answered it. It was one of his golf
buddies. When Phil came out to get the phone, I went into our
bathroom to collect the towels for the laundry.
I picked up the towel on the floor next to the throne and
lying there was a full-page photo and the two-page letter. The
photo captured a magic moment in a pretty blonde girl's life when
she had three cocks (two white and a gigantic black cock) buried
up her pussy, in her ass, and down her throat. I was surprised,
to say the least. Had the phonecall caught Phil masturbating?
I quickly replaced the towel and walked out of the bathroom.
I acted like I hadn't seen a thing. But I had, and it made me
think about that damned letter and Phil's secret fantasies again.
......
June finally arrived and Phil and I flew out to Seattle. It
was a long ride in the rental car from the airport to my home
town, and I could feel my excitement rise with each mile.
Even though it was late in the evening and we were tired
from the flight and the long ride, Phil indulged me and drove
around the town for me.
I was thrilled to see that the town had changed so little in
the fifteen years since I had lived there. I pointed out all the
"landmarks" to Phil, as we drove from my old house, past the
school and old hang-outs. He was such a Dear, he acted
interested and refused to yawn as I filled him in on the minutiae
of my pre- and pubescent life. Finally, on the other side of
town, where the drive-in movie used to be, we checked into our
hotel room and got some sleep. It was going to be a busy
weekend.
The reunion committee had scheduled a luncheon at the hotel
on Saturday, the big dance and party at the high school on
Saturday night, and a gourmet (catered, of course) breakfast on
Sunday morning in the high school cafeteria; and we were
attending all of them.
Everything was wonderful. It was so great seeing so many
old friends and we talked like there hadn't been fifteen years
since our last conversation. I'll admit I really enjoyed the
stares and looks my "new" body caused, and I was a whole lot more
popular at the dance than I had ever been at a dance while in
high school. And through it all, Phil was a perfect angel -- as
gracious and as friendly as can be.
But the reason I'm writing all this down is -- the most
outrageous event took place on that Sunday.
......
About halfway through the breakfast, I excused myself to
literally and figuratively "go to the little girls' room."
Feeling nostalgic, I wandered out the door from the rest
room to the girls' locker room instead of the door back out to
the hall. With classes over for the school year, the lockers
were empty and the room had been scrubbed clean. I tried to find
my old locker from my Senior year, but they all looked alike to
me now.
I soon discovered I wasn't the only one waxing nostalgic.
Through the vents high up in the wall, I could hear voices from
the boys' locker room. I walked closer to the wall to listen and
smelled cigar smoke through the vent. It was two or three guys
and they were talking about their football days. How typical.
I turned to leave, and was surprised by a rack full of brand
new cheerleader uniforms! They were beautiful! Apparently, the
school had just sprung for new uniforms for the squad, and since
school was closed for the Summer, they were just hanging there
until tryouts in August.
I had thoroughly enjoyed my years as a cheerleader in
college. It had been extremely difficult to make the squad
because I hadn't already been one in high school, like all the
other girls. But in high school, I was plump and too roly-poly
to even think about trying out for cheerleader -- and I always
regretted that fact.
On an impulse, I grabbed an outfit that looked close to my
size and sat on a bench, in front of a locker. Here was my
chance to finally wear my high school colors! The uniform was
sparkling white with the school's name emblazoned across the
front in blue and gold.
What the hell! Who would ever know? I'd put it right back
on the rack afterwards.
I stood up and unzipped my dress down the back. Next came
my slip. I quickly unwrapped the uniform, pulled the top over my
head and shimmied the too-tight skirt up my legs and over my
hips.
I walked over to the big mirror to take a look at myself and
laughed at the sight. The uniform was too small and too short.
The skirt was so short I could see my stocking tops, so I rolled
my stockings off and stepped back into my high heels. Now, when
I looked in the mirror, I saw that the tight top stretched across
my big boobs, the short skirt with only tiny panties on under it,
and the black high heels perverted the uniform into something
erotic, rather than innocent. But wasn't that the trademark of
the best cheerleader outfits, like the Dallas Cowboys' squad?
......
At that precise moment I heard two things that caused me to
change my life drastically.
At almost the same time, I heard the ex-jocks in the boys'
locker room burst into a loud laugh, and I heard Phil, somewhere
in the halls outside, call my name.
I stood there, looking at myself in the mirror, seeing a
boy's wet-dream image of a cheerleader. Then, in a flash of
images, one after the other... I thought about Phil's secret
drawer and the "Editor's Choice" letter... all his photos of the
blondes having sex with groups of men... the men in the next
room... my "new" body... nasty, raunchy sex... Phil watching his
wife... Phil seeing his "Accounting Club fantasies" being acted
out before his eyes... safe sex... being naughty... doing
something so totally bizarre compared to the rest of my stable
and quiet life... maybe even showing a few of my old classmates
what they missed fifteen years ago...
I stopped thinking. I didn't want my thoughts getting in
the way of what I was doing. I was just going to let things
happen.
I took a deep breath and then walked out of the girls'
locker room. The hall was empty, but I heard Phil call my name
again -- a lot closer this time.
I hesitated for a second and then pushed open the door to
the boys' locker room. The door "ssshhhhh'd" close behind me as
I looked around. The room was much larger than the girls' locker
room and definitely had a much stronger sweat smell -- only
instead of making me wrinkle my nose in disgust, it actually
turned me on a little more. Maybe that little talk with Phil in
bed had helped.
I stepped deeper into the room and looked down the next row
of lockers -- no one was in sight, but the smell of cigar was
getting stronger and the voices louder. Finally, as I peeked
around the next row, I saw the source.
Three men were sitting on the benches, leaning up against
the lockers, and passing around a half-full bottle of "Jack
Black."
Bob Anderson, Otis Parker, and Jamie Syzmanski -- all heroes
from our football team's "Glory Days" of State Championships.
Bob had been the running back, and was now running his father's
Chevy/Nissan/GMC dealership in town. He had been the most
coveted hunk in my high school years, and he was even better
looking now -- still built and with a full head of salt-and-
pepper hair. Otis had been the all-star center. He was huge and
Black. I think someone said he was a guard at the State
penitentiary. Jamie had been another lineman and was just as big
as Otis. He had turned his father's bar into the town's most
popular restaurant and lounge.
I had stopped thinking earlier, I was running on impulse
alone. I stepped out into the center of the row and smiled at
the three men, "Hello, boys. Reliving some past glories?"
The looks on their frozen faces were wonderful! They were
shocked and surprised, and obviously liked what they saw.
Jamie spoke first, "Janice? Janice Pearson?"
I smiled and nodded, "Well, it's Janice Vallegia now, but
who cares?" Feeling like a total VAMP, I walked up to Bob and
took the sour mash from his hand and belted down a healthy swig -
- no sense being the only sober one in the room. "You football
studs in need of a cheerleader?"
They all started blubbering at once -- (Was that the locker
room door I heard opening and closing?) -- about how sexy I
looked, how great my body was, how much they all enjoyed seeing
me again, how I could cheerlead for them anytime. On and on,
until Bob cut through the shit and pulled me down on to his lap
and mashed his mouth on mine, pushing his tongue down my throat.
As I returned his kiss, I heard Jamie, "Ahem, Otis, my man,
I guess these two would like to `reminisce' alone."
I held up my hand and broke away from Bob's mouth long
enough to say, "No need for anyone to leave, if that's alright
with you gentlemen."
BBRRIIINNNGGG!!! And we were off to the races!
Those three guys proved that there was a lot to be said for
teamwork! In under a minute, I was being gang-banged and loving
it far more than I imagined I would!
......
Bob resumed kissing me as his hands found their way up under
my top. He pulled my bra cups off my breasts and I moaned into
his mouth when his two hands gently covered and squeezed my tits.
We broke apart for a moment while I shed my top and bra and laid
back down on the bench -- not very comfortable, but it would do!
Bob knelt beside me and tweaked my hard nipple with one hand as
he filled his mouth with my other nipple.
Meanwhile, Otis flipped my skirt up and I lifted my hips off
the bench to help him strip my panties off. He dropped his own
pants and underwear and straddled the bench. He smiled at me as
he looked down on my naked pussy, then he spit in his palm and
rubbed it on the head of his dark, and almost-purple, cock.
"Mmmmm, mmmmm, mmmmm! You gonna like this, Janice. I been
savin' it up for you all these years."
I smiled up at him and said, "Then don't make me wait any
longer for it, Otis."
He didn't. He knelt on the narrow bench, between my spread
legs, and lowered himself down onto and into me. I was so
anxious to be fucked, so hot to be screwed, I half-cried, half-
moaned as I felt his warm meat penetrate me. Deeper and deeper,
until his huge body was pressing on top of me, fucking me with
everything he had.
I turned to Jamie and motioned him closer with my hand. As
He stood next to my head, I reached up and pulled his zipper
down. Finally getting the hint, he unfastened his pants and
dropped them and his underwear. His hardening cock fit perfectly
in my mouth.
At that moment, at the same time I was trying to concentrate
on what I was doing to these guys -- and what they were doing to
me! -- I had a sort of out-of-body experience. At my very
wildest in college, I had never made love to more that one man at
a time. Now, there were three sex-hungry men having their way
with me in my old high school's boys' locker room! To say I was
shocked at what I was doing would be an incredible
understatement. And then I wondered if I really had heard the
door open and close, and Phil was watching his wife behave like
the sluttiest cheerleader ever born! Was this really his
fantasy? Or, I began to wonder, was it mine?
Otis came with a loud grunt and a hard shove and moved off
me. Immediately, Bob left my breasts and moved to take his
place. I had already cum while Otis was fucking me, and never
being all that multi-orgasmic, was delightfully surprised to
begin my next orgasm as Bob pushed his prick up my slippery pussy
and Otis began to play with my tits.
Trying to breathe through my nose and around Jamie's cock as
I came wasn't all that easy, and he made it more difficult as he
started to shoot a river of cum down my throat. I kept up with
him and could feel only a little spill out of my mouth and onto
my chin.
He pulled his meat from my still-sucking mouth and said,
"That was great!"
Otis moved into position, "Yeah? Let me be the judge."
I grasped his warm and sticky cock and guided it into my
mouth as I caressed his very large balls.
Bill continued to pound away in me and I was impressed with
his stamina. Otis was erect and stretching my lips as I sucked
him in and out. Jamie eventually reached around and between his
friends to play with my tits, and I began to cum all over again.
This was the most fantastic sex I had ever had!
Bill came, followed by Otis. I asked Jamie if he wanted his
chance to fuck me, and he took his turn, too.
I don't know how long the whole episode had taken, but it
seemed like it was over in a flash. When I finally gathered my
wits, I looked around for my bra and panties.
Bill and Otis were sharing the "Jack Daniels" again and
giggled. Otis laughed and waved at the room full of lockers,
"Janice, while you and my man Jamie we so occupied, I stuffed
your pretty little lace things in two lockers -- I figured I'd
give some little freshman a real thrill on his first day of P.E.
in September. I guess I can help you find them."
"No, forget them, Otis. I better get out of here. Am I the
only one here married?"
"Hell, no," laughed Jamie, "our wives know all we do when
the three of us get together is talk football, so they decided
not to come."
I grabbed the cheerleader uniform and started towards the
door, "Well, boys, it's been great. See you next reunion."
"Oh, Janice, please don't make us wait THAT long for our
next fun time."
"I left my name and address with the committee, Bill. Call
me if any of you ever get to Baltimore. Bye!"
I held the clothes up in front of me, but didn't take the
time to put them on. I peeked out into the hall, saw it was
clear and made a mad dash back to the girls' locker room. I
rolled on my stockings and zipped up my dress in record time. As
much as I wanted to keep the uniform, I didn't want to steal it
from the school, and I didn't have any place to hide it; so I put
it back on the hangers and under the plastic.
......
When I walked back into the cafeteria on wobbly legs, the
crowd had pretty much thinned out. Phil was sitting alone at the
table, where I had left him.
When he saw me approach, he smiled and asked, "And where
have you been?"
I'm sure I blushed as I smiled back, "Well, I went to the
ladies' room and ran into some old classmates."
"Were you gabbing all that time?"
I shrugged, "You know how it is when old friends get
together. I couldn't close my mouth!" At the same time I was
studying my husband's pleasant face, wondering if he spent the
whole time waiting for me at the table.
We made our rounds, saying goodbye and promising to stay in
touch. I was sorry the reunion was over and that I was leaving
old friends again, but it had certainly been the weekend of my
life.
We were almost out the door when Connie DeLong waved at us,
"Bye, you two! I didn't even know you were still here! Where
did you two disappear to all morning?"
I quickly glanced at Phil. He was looking straight at
Connie but was blushing as much as I felt I was -- and then I
knew. I wonder what Connie would have thought if we both told
her where we had been that morning!
That was the first time. It got a lot easier after that!
Phil's happy, I'm happy, and the men I meet are VERY happy!
.........................
(c) Copyright January 1993 by J BOSWELL, all rights, except
those explicitly detailed below, ARE RESERVED BY THE AUTHOR.
Electronic distribution (as a text file on an "adults only"
BBS) is permitted without alteration, but inclusion in any
type of "publication" offered for sale (eg., book, magazine,
CD-ROM, etc.) requires the author's explicit permission.
(See below for contacting the author.)
----------------------------------------------------------------------
JB-VOYER
When Hubby Likes to Watch
Another Hot Wife Tale
by J. BOSWELL (jaybos@cris.com)
WARNING: This work of fiction is intended to be read by adults
only. The author has uploaded it only to known
"Adults, only" BBSs, and requests that you exercise the
same discretion. Also, this is a fantasy -- in real
life, please protect your lover and yourself by
practicing safe sex.
.........................
(c) Copyright March, 1990 by J BOSWELL, all rights, except those
explicitly detailed below, ARE RESERVED BY THE AUTHOR.
Electronic distribution (as a text file on an "adults only"
BBS) is permitted without alteration, but inclusion in any
type of "publication" offered for sale (eg., book, magazine,
CD-ROM, etc.) requires the author's explicit permission.
=======================================
09/30/88 17:37 FROM: LADYHACK Bonnie M
I've been here on the Pandemonium BBS for a while and always
enjoy reading the stories in the "Adult" files section. I've
also read "Penthouse" and some other men's magazines on occasion.
One thing I've seen in all of them are stories or letters about
how men just love to see their wives or girlfriends having
intercourse with another man (or even men!). I just don't
understand it!
I don't understand how a man can enjoy the woman he took to
be his wife, or "significant other," screwing with another man as
he stands there and watches. The way I look at it, two of the
three people involved are having the MOST fun -- and it isn't the
husband!
What brought this topic up for me, was that over the
weekend, my husband, Doug, and I hosted a party and Doug's best
friend wouldn't stop flirting with me. He'd had a fight with his
wife, came without her, got sloshed by dessert and chased me the
rest of the night. One time, he had me up against the kitchen
sink, feeling my boobs and trying to suck my neck, and in walks
my Doug. Did Doug get mad? Hell, no! -- he got an erection! It
was obvious. Finally, he helped me peel his friend off me and we
led him up to the guest room to sleep it off.
After everybody left and we packed his friend off in a cab,
I asked Doug about what happened in the kitchen. He said he knew
men liked looking at me -- at my face and body -- and it
definitely turned him on to see them look. When he saw his buddy
with his hands all over my chest and his face buried in my neck,
he said it gave him an erection that he could drive nails with!
While we were making love, I looked up at him and asked him
if he'd like to see me screw another guy and his answer was "NO!"
and then, "Ohhh... Yesss!" as he came and collapsed on top of me.
Over breakfast the next day, Doug tried to sluff it all off
as just a fantasy and he really didn't mean it. I said I saw the
look in his eyes, the boner in his pants, and remembered what
really made him come last night, even if he didn't want to admit
it. I told him that it didn't matter what he thought, I wasn't
about to boff another man, whether he was watching or not!
That's where I stand. What I'm looking for, I guess, are
some women's responses to this type of situation. What do you
wives and girlfriends think about this kink in our guys?????
=============================================
10/03/88 02:12 FROM: FREEANEZ free and easy
My advice for those women who's husbands and boyfriends
always want them to flirt with, expose themselves to, or even
fuck with other guys is: don't do it if you don't wish to -- BUT,
there are advantages to giving their husbands EXACTLY what they
want -- and then some!
Let me explain.
My husband, Steve, is apparently the typical "wife-watcher"
husband. He gets a real kick out of seeing me flirt with and
expose myself to other men. When we go out, my typical outfit
(at his request) is some kind of tight top with no bra, and a
short skirt. I never wear pantyhose, and it's a special treat
for Steve when I don't wear any panties. At first, this whole
show bothered me, because I was never comfortable with my own
body. In my mind, I've always been 10-15 pounds overweight, but
when I saw how men responded to my large boobs, good legs, and
ample bottom, the more the exhibitionism became a definite
turn-on for me, too.
But, the exhibitionism didn't stop with my clothing. Over
the years, Steve has arranged for the mailman and various
delivery or repairmen catch me naked, or near naked. Several
summers ago, on vacation, Steve begged me to strip naked and
masturbate in the car so the truck drivers could see me through
the open sunroof as they drove by. During football season, I
lost a little bet about something with Steve, and to pay off I
had to be the hostess at his Sunday football "tailgate" party.
While the game was going on, I had to keep Steve and five of his
friends supplied with beer and snacks while wearing my
"cheerleader" outfit, which consisted of a football mesh top,
through which my boobs were plainly visible and my nipples would
sometimes poke through, a short flared skirt, g-string panties
and knee-high socks.
All this showing off for Steve never led to extramarital sex
-- it only turned him on enough to make love to me. But this all
changed two years ago at a formal New Year's Eve party.
While I was busy dancing with various men (always Steve's
request at a party) -- all of whom were being very free with
their hands since I was wearing a black diaphanous gown with
nothing but black stockings on underneath -- Steve was happily
drinking himself into a stupor and passed out even before
midnight. A couple of his business acquaintances help me get him
to the car, and then "gallantly" offered to follow me home and
help me get him inside. I had danced with these guys earlier and
I was pretty sure that their motives weren't all that altruistic,
but on that night, it was more than okay with me. After years of
being a cockteaser, I was ready to find out the consequences.
Dan and Dave had no sooner dumped Steve on the couch in the
living room, than they had me sprawled across our big coffeetable
with my gown pushed up to my waist and pulled down off my
shoulders. While Dan kissed me passionately and played with my
aching breasts, Dave dove between my legs and buried his face in
my pussy. As his tongue teased my outer lips and flicked across
my clit, I realized I had been shortchanged for many years by
just teasing all these men. Within just a few short minutes, I
had a gut-wrenching orgasm, better than any I had ever had with
my husband.
The three of us went into the bedroom, and for the next two
hours they made love to me while Steve lay unconscious and
snoring on the sofa. They would take turns and one would fuck me
from behind while I gave the other head. When the cock in my
cunt came, they would switch positions and another hard cock
would fill my pussy while my mouth went to work on the soft, wet
one. After they both came in me twice, Dave went down on me
again, and ate their cum out of my pussy until I had another
explosive orgasm.
That night completely changed my life.
In the past two years, I've made love to more men than I
care to count, without Steve's knowledge. My secret list
includes the mailman, several repairmen, and several anonymous
men in hotel-bar pick-ups or group-sex situations. I have also
made love with two women at large swing parties, and while I
enjoyed the sex (especially the way a woman eats me out), I don't
seek female partners the way I do men. I guess I just enjoy the
power I seem to have over cocks.
Also on the list is Steve's boss (who loves to suck my pussy
when it is filled with cum), many of Steve's co-workers, Dan and
Dave many times, and many of his friends, especially his
"football cronies."
Now, whenever Steve is out of town over the weekend
(arranged as often as possible by his boss!), his five "friends"
all show up at the house and we have a real "tailgate orgy." The
cheerleader takes on the team in every way imaginable. The fun
usually starts with me giving each of them head, one right after
the other. The guys all time the others, and the one who comes
in the shortest time is responsible for keeping the rest of us
supplied with refreshments until the other four guys are totally
sated. Only then can the loser enjoy more of me. If I'm no
longer horny, he is out of luck for the day, so you can imagine
how much they hate to lose, since more often than not, I say I've
had enough just to tease him and drive him crazy after watching
all that sex all day.
The hottest time I have ever had was one Sunday, just as I
opened the door for them, Steve called on the phone. I signaled
for them to be quiet, but when they realized who I was talking
to, they all stripped me and positioned my butt over a large
ottoman. Then, all five of them took turns fucking me while I
tried to continue my conversation with my husband. Talking to
Steve while being fucked by five of his friends turned me on so
much, that after I finally hung up, I told them I wanted as many
of them in me as possible. In a matter of seconds, I was on the
floor with a cock buried in my cunt, one in my mouth, one between
my tits and my hands wrapped around the other two. I had never
done this before!
Since taking control of my own sex life, I feel much better
about myself. I do what I want to do for me, and not because my
husband wants me to do it. I'm with you, "Bonnie M," I, too
would like to hear more from women who have turned (or wish to
turn) the tables on their voyeuristic husbands or lovers.
===========================================
10/11/88 10:48 FROM: ROBYN from Jenkintown
I'd like to add another female's viewpoint to this
interesting message.
I am petit, but I also have large breasts for my frame,
which have always attracted guys. Shortly after we were married,
my husband got on the exhibitionism kick by buying me sexy
outfits that showed off my breasts to the hilt. More to please
him than any particular need I felt, I consented to wear these
clothes around the house.
Soon, he was snapping Polaroid shots of me in halter dresses
and tops, short-shorts, miniskirts, and bikinis. Gradually, he
induced me to pose in filmy negligees. After that, being topless
or completely naked was a short step. Finally, he bought a
camcorder and filmed me nude, caressing my breasts, using a
vibrator and masturbating -- all to his specific direction. It
was such a tremendous turn-on for him and seemed like a totally
harmless game for a married couple to play, I never made a fuss
about it.
And, as I got more used to this scene, I began to enjoy it
as a prelude to sex. All until I found out he was sharing these
pictures and videos with male business associates who gathered at
our house once a week to talk shop.
One night, returning home from shopping, I found my pictures
spread on the card table and my video on the TV, for his friends'
enjoyment! I furiously bent down to gather up the pictures, in
my rage forgetting that I was dressed in one of hubby's favorite
sundresses that allowed ample view of my cleavage. Setting down
his drink, my husband laughingly pulled me on to his lap and felt
up my nipples before the bulging eyes of his friends and then he
raved about how oversexed I was. Reduced to tears, I struggled
to free myself, only to see how this amused everyone. My husband
tugged down the front zipper on my dress and my naked tits
spilled free. With a final shove, I pushed free of my husband
and flew out of the room to their applause.
Afterwards, when I had calmed down, hubby explained how
proud he was of my beauty and figure. He said my pictures and
videos evoked envy, not disgust from his friends. He is a born
salesman and his glib tongue soon convinced me not to be ashamed
of my body. He had already led me so far down this road, I was
too naive or dumb to stop him there. After all, he was the man I
loved and married, how could he be thinking anything but the best
for me?
So, instead of being shy and staying upstairs, subsequent
evenings found me serving drinks to the group while I wiggled
around the room, enjoying the effect my body had on them. My
husband made it clear that I was only to tease and never sleep
with the guys, and I enjoyed teasing them so much, I never
thought about sleeping with any of them.
One evening, months later in the summer, I was running
around in a bikini when my husband suggested I go topless. I
agreed and threw off my top while the guys gasped and then
cheered. I admit, that like "FREE AND EASY" in the last message,
this was beginning to be a REAL turn-on for me. Seeing me
flushed and breathing rapidly, my husband then suggested that the
guys take turns feeling my "firm body." He said anything under
the bikini bottom was "off limits." Just the touch of their
fingers had me moaning, and just a few more feels of my breasts
had me shuddering as I tried to hide my orgasm from my husband.
As my husband made love to me later that night, I began to
fantasize I was making it with all of these men. I knew I was
ready to experiment.
One night, soon after the topless show, I snuck off upstairs
with one of the men and he fucked me standing up against a wall
at the top of the steps. It was FANTASTIC! I was soon making
plans to meet the others and we would sneak sex wherever
convenient, usually at a local motel.
The group stimulation only seemed to make me want more and
more, so I agreed to dance for a group of men at a stag party. I
dressed for the part and went into a torrid strip before 20 guys.
Afterwards, dancing nude with some of them (they were dressed), I
made arrangements involving four of them later that night.
I've been on business trips with my husband and his favorite
game is for me to dress up and act like a hooker and have him
pick me up after I've been ogled and hit on in the bar for an
hour or so. Afterwards, he tells me to stay in the room while he
concludes business, but I'm out the door right after him, picking
up guys in the bar and going back to their rooms (and even taking
their money to maintain the image!).
Lately, I satisfy my urges at our Club, where I can easily
attract guys in my little tennis outfits and go off with as many
as I want. I have become well-known with the golf and tennis
pros, and in the club bar, where they all know I'm a very willing
partner. I've even given a small group of young caddies a real
treat on a rainy day!
I am happy, now, and could never be satisfied with just my
husband. Like many men, he enjoyed showing me off like a trophy,
but he isn't liberated enough to accept any consequences of that.
Yet, if he hadn't been the one who got me started on this kick, I
might just be another boring wife.
So, would my sleeping around shatter his ego, or inflate it
because of all the men who want into my hot little panties? At
this point, I don't really care. I'm having fun.
========================================
10/29/88 16:53 FROM: FLOWER Daisy Petal
I've really been fascinated with this discussion.
Especially since my husband and I just recently found out,
totally by accident, that he enjoys seeing me flirt with other
men.
I love my husband very much, and I could never be unfaithful
to him. So, we have worked out a "safe sex" version of what you
other women have been talking about.
My husband and I were on our way to go dancing one night at
a hotel lounge, and as we drove up to the parking lot, his beeper
went off. He told me to just go on in and get a table, and he'd
make his call from the lobby. I entered the club and got a
table, and within a few minutes, was asked to dance by a very
good-looking young man. Bob, my husband, walked in and of course
had no idea where I was sitting since he saw me on the dance
floor, so he went over to the bar and sat down. When the song
was over, Bob started to meet me at the table but another man,
asking me to dance, beat him to it. I turned around and saw Bob
approaching, but he just smiled and shrugged and returned to the
bar.
After I sat down, Bob came up to the table and asked me to
dance. As we danced he told me that he was getting very horny
watching me slow dance with other guys and knowing that they
wanted me. He said he'd sit at the bar the rest of the night,
and I could enjoy all the attention. Well, hearing this started
my motor running. The thought of flirting with all these men
while my husband sat back and watched was SUCH a turn-on I could
barely stand it!
I must have danced with ten different guys that night. Some
of them even cupped my ass and whispered in my ear. They
whispered things I had forgotten about since I'd been married.
Every once in a while, Bob would dance with me and I'd tell him
all the things the different guys had done and said to me. I
could see and feel the bulge in his pants and I could feel my own
wetness from all the attention I was getting. That night, Bob
and I made love three times, and each time it drove him crazy as
I told him about the guys begging me up to their rooms and the
things they said they wanted to do to me. When I told him how
much those men turned me on, he would come immediately.
We've been back to the club several times. Pretending I'm a
single woman, I dance close, pressing my body tight against all
the men I dance with. I love to feel their hard cocks. My
husband loves to watch the guys run their hand over my ass. The
men get bolder as the evening goes on, and I've even had three
reach down the front of my dress and squeeze my braless breasts -
- right on the dance floor!
I have to admit it -- I love dancing with all of these good
looking guys, having them paw me and nibble on my ear and neck as
my husband watches everything.
The last time I went dancing I was afraid I may have gone
too far for Bob, when I actually kissed a guy on the dance floor,
but Bob smiled and winked at me. Feeling braver, I spent several
minutes on the parking lot - locked in a passionate embrace with
that guy when I left. Later, when we were making love, I told
Bob how wet it made me and how good it felt to bury my tongue in
the guy's mouth.
We both love our little exhibition game and try it at least
once a month. I love the attention from all the men, and Bob
loves to watch me turn other men on. The more I flirt, the
better he likes it. I don't think we'll go much further than
this, but it's very exciting knowing your husband is watching you
strut your stuff and loving every minute of it.
===========================================
11/05/88 22:06 FROM: MARYANNE on the loose
((((((((Before I tell you my story, let me just say to "FLOWER"
that she is headed for trouble -- in two possible ways. She may
not always be lucky and dance with the apparent gentleman she has
been fortunate enough to meet, so far -- OR she could compare her
last night out "dancing" with her first night and figure out
where she and Bob are headed. "FLOWER," if you're reading this
-- be careful! Remember, nobody likes a cockteaser.)))))))
It's funny that "FREE AND EASY" mentioned New Year's Eve in
her letter, because that was the turning point in my sexual life,
too. I've been dying to tell someone about all this and this is
perfect!
Now, let me slow down and back up to the beginning:
First of all, from the earlier messages, I detect a pattern.
The wives all appear to be good-looking and well-built, and not
all that experienced (sexually) before getting married. Well, I
fit that description perfectly. In my teen years I won several
beauty contests, but stopped winning as my height didn't keep
pace with my bust development, and I no longer had that long and
lean look. I dated in high school and college, but I was very
much what you would call a "good girl." I married my husband,
Tom, while I was getting my MBA.
For years, Tom did everything he could think of to get me
into sexy clothes. I had no problem wearing them for him, but I
didn't feel much like "advertising" out in public. Tom loves me
in stockings and garterbelts, low-cut blouses, high heels, and
shorter than short miniskirts. On the few occasions I did allow
him to dress me and we went out (usually while on vacation), I
felt like a call girl on display. Wherever we went, men always
turned and stared, and Tom loved every moment of this coy,
femme-fatale performance.
Because of Tom's career, we entertain quite a bit, and there
always seems to be men around the house. I first noticed my
husband's "preference" at a party, over two years ago.
Almost EXACTLY like "Bonnie M" in the first message, a
friend of Tom's had been making a pass at me while Tom was out of
the room. He had me in the corner and was relying on me to keep
my humor as the hostess, as he tried several time to kiss me.
Finally, he pushed away my arms and pinned me to the wall,
reaching into my blouse and squeezing my breast. Tom walked in
and saw what happened, but he stepped back out of the doorway and
watched! I finally gently kneed the friend in the crotch and
nothing further happened. Later that night, Tom mentioned that
he had seen what happened and was not furious, but pleased. When
I told him I WAS furious at him for not helping me, he told me to
loosen up, that it was just harmless fun. He said that it was a
compliment to me -- and to him -- that our guest had admired my
beauty so much that he couldn't help himself.
A month later, we were hosting a pool party and I went down
to the freezer in the basement for more ice. Again, one of the
guests followed me and started getting overly friendly. He was
behind me, with his arms wrapped around my bare stomach, when I
noticed Tom watching us through the window. I allowed the man to
caress my breasts, and even to pull my bikini top down. I fully
expected Tom to come charging into the room and break us up, but
he continued to watch. My new friend sucked my nipples and then
placed his hand inside my bikini bottom. I couldn't believe
this! I wanted to see just how far Tom would allow this to go
before stopping this. The man slowly inserted his finger deep
inside my pussy and I opened my legs wider, to give him the
freedom to do whatever he wanted. I really got scared that I had
let it go too far when he lowered his trunks and was ready to
fuck me. Fortunately, someone yelled for ice and we immediately
separated. My husband never mentioned the incident and I was
angrier with him than ever before in our marriage.
One night, Jerry, the friend from the indoor party, was over
the house. We were having a ball, mixing batch after batch of
margueritas "to get it just right!" Tom suddenly announced that
we were out of limes and he would run to the store for more. I
knew this was a lie, but said nothing, and as I expected, Jerry
said he'd stay and "protect" me. Tom left in the car, but
apparently parked down the street and walked back. Jerry had
already gotten fresh, again, and I suggested we go into the den,
"where we could be more comfortable." We sat on the sofa and
kissed and caressed each other for at least five minutes, until I
excused myself to "go to the bathroom." Instead, I snuck out the
garage door and peeked around the corner of the house. Sure
enough, there in the shadows, was Tom looking through the den
window. I know now that it was an irrational, immature decision,
but at that moment, I was determined to force my husband's hand.
I wanted to make him as mad as he was making me.
Soon after I returned to the sofa, Jerry removed my blouse
and then my bra. He sucked my breasts for a long time and I was
turned on as well as angry. Jerry was losing control as he laid
me down on the sofa and removed my skirt and panties. I was
certain that this would cause Tom to call an end to his fun and
storm in. Jerry started licking my pussy, and I was losing
control, too! I had never expected this thing to go this far!
Now, unable to calm Jerry down, I tried to stall for time. He
was ready to fuck me, and there was no way I was going to let him
do that. I was really in a fix! I forced us both up and took
his penis in my hand, wanting to masturbate him to orgasm. He
gripped my head in both hands and forced his penis into my mouth,
pumping in and out. Suddenly, he erupted and shot a huge load of
semen all over my face. I used this as an excuse to go to the
bathroom to clean up, and locked myself in there until I heard
Tom return. Again, Tom made no mention of this incident.
Things were quiet until Christmas. During the Christmas
season, Tom has a special game he plays when we host a party. He
hangs a bunch of mistletoe over the door into the rec room and
makes up a special batch of "Courage Punch" (it's almost straight
booze, and after a few dips into it, you get all kinds of
courage!). As a couple meets under the mistletoe, they have to
kiss -- but the trick is not to be the one that breaks the kiss.
The "struggle" is good-natured and in fun and the one who breaks
away must down a cup of punch. The crowd watches and cheers the
kissing and the winner, boos the loser, and chants as the loser
chugs the punch.
We had seven couples and one stag man over that New Year's
Eve, and by midnight, I had already broken away from two men. I
was feeling no pain when, a little after midnight, the single man
caught me under the mistletoe. He began kissing me very
passionately, so I teased him back by running my tongue in and
out of his mouth. Everyone was cheering to see who would stop.
He put his hand inside my low-cut cocktail dress to feel my
breast and the crowd went wild. I saw Tom cheering, and yelling
for the man to keep going. In an effort to make him pull away, I
reached down and pulled the man's zipper open. The crowd laughed
and then roared as the stranger bent me slightly backwards and
started pulling the hem of my dress up. I almost pulled away,
then, but when I saw the gleam in Tom's eyes, I became determined
to continue.
The hem of my dress continued up until it was at my waist,
fully exposing my stocking-tops and panties to everyone. We
still didn't break and I didn't know what to do to stop him. His
hands pulled my panties off my hips and they fell to my ankles,
baring my pussy to the crowd.
Suddenly, there wasn't as much cheering and I finally
realized that things had gotten too far out of hand. I tried to
pull away, but the man had a really tight grip on me. Before I
finally got free, he managed to get his finger slightly into me.
Immediately after that, four of the couples and the rest of
the wives left. Three husbands and the single guy stayed. After
we escorted our guests out, Tom kissed me, told me that I was
wonderful and that he had enjoyed every second of my "act." That
was the last straw for me. The switch was thrown!
Walking back into the rec room, I deliberately positioned
myself under the mistletoe again, and one of the four men began
to kiss me. When he reached behind me and unzippered my dress, I
let it fall to the floor and stepped out of it. I broke the kiss
and went to the punchbowl, not bothering to dress. After the
drink, another man pulled me under the mistletoe. Off came my
bra, and down went my panties again. There I stood in my sheer
black stockings and high heels, nude for the men to view. The
four men surrounded me and took turns kissing me and caressing my
body.
Tom took the mistletoe down and put it on the back of the
sofa. One of the men pushed me back on the couch, dropped his
trousers and attempted to mount me. I looked at Tom one last
time. He was cheering the man on and I opened my legs and let
him enter me. He reached orgasm very quickly, and when he stood
and pulled his pants up, I just laid there with my legs spread
wide. One of the other men quickly looked at Tom, saw his smile
and lowered himself down onto and into me. When he was done, the
last two guys took their turns fucking me.
The whole time, Tom sat there and watched. I looked over at
him as the third guy was coming, "This is what you wanted me to
do all along, isn't it?" He nodded and smiled.
We lost some friends that night, some of whom have not
spoken to me since. Tom later admitted he had "enticed" his
friends to hit on me over the years by telling them that I was an
"easy lay" and liked it. Well, now, he's right -- I AM an easy
lay and I DO like it.
The four men who had intercourse with me that New Year's Eve
have called me on numerous occasions and I have had sex
frequently with them over the last two years. I've also balled
three of the four husbands that left the party early that night.
I've been with men singly and in groups and I think I prefer the
attention I get in the group scene. I don't know if Tom still
watches or not, and I don't care. I'm sure he does on occasion,
but it doesn't matter to me whether he's around or not when I
decide to have my fun.
Today, I enjoy a much more liberated sex life and freely go
with whomever desires me. Tom doesn't complain, and neither do
I. Shouldn't every wife give her husband exactly what he
deserves?
==========================================
12/14/88 23:41 FROM: HOTSHOT always ready
I really enjoyed reading the messages on this subject. I'm
sorry to see no more women have added anything in a while. Do
you want to hear what a husband feels like -- when what he thinks
he wants isn't really what he wants?
First of all -- what's wrong with a husband or boyfriend
wanting to show off his wife or girlfriend? Maybe it is a little
like showing off a trophy, but I can always feel my chest swell
when I catch men looking at my beautiful wife (28, 5'6", a very
hard 38D-26-36) with obvious lust in their eyes. I love it.
They know she is MY WIFE.
During our eight years of marriage, I often fantasized about
watching my wife, Ellen, make love to another man. She just
shrugged me off until one day this Spring. She came home from
work very excited and told me that her boss, Harry, had made her
a fantastic offer.
Now, Ellen is about as ambitious a woman as you'll find.
She started at her company as a secretary and over the last few
years, by getting degrees and working hard, she was the highest
client rep she could be at the local office. Her next big move
would be downtown, to the headquarters building, but openings
there are few and far between. Harry, her regional director, has
always liked Ellen, and Ellen has always been friendly in return,
but their relationship has always been professional. That day,
Harry called Ellen downtown to his office and told her that if
she would go to bed with him, he could guarantee her promotion to
headquarters within the month. Ellen came home and told me and
said that if I agreed, knowing about my fantasies about her, she
would do it. Maybe I should have thought about it more, but I
immediately agreed.
On the appointed night, Harry (a short, weasel kind of guy,
about 50) showed up exactly on time. I was hidden in our bedroom
closet. Ellen and Harry had some drinks and some small talk, but
Ellen said Harry was in a big hurry to get at her, so she led him
upstairs to the bedroom.
Ellen undressed and sprawled invitingly on the bed. Harry
disrobed quickly, and I watched with mounting excitement as he
wildly kissed and fondled my wife's great body. Soon, he buried
his balding head between Ellen's legs, as she moaned with
delight.
Normally, Ellen is silent and only mildly active in bed with
me. I was shocked to see her brazenly encouraging her boss to
suck her hard-nippled breasts and beg him to screw her wet pussy
with his short, stubby little penis. I gaped in astonishment as
Ellen strained to experience the fullness of his thrusting while
clutching his hairy body in abandoned fever until, minutes later,
both exploded in the uncontrolled ecstasy of their mutual
orgasms. This was a very different Ellen in bed from the one I
knew for all these years.
I waited for Ellen to make her usual dash to the bathroom
but, instead, she rolled to face her exhausted boss and slowly
began to fondle and kiss his freshly spent cock. Something she
had never performed for me.
Her tender attentions slowly reawakened Harry's tool, making
it erect, again. My shock deepened as she boldly mounted her
boss with a cry of lust. I know my jaw dropped because I had
never seen her behave with such passion! Her talents and energy
were rewarded as Harry let go with another loud orgasm inside of
her.
After a short rest, Harry dressed and left. Ellen was just
closing the front door when she turned and saw me at the bottom
of the stairs. I didn't have time to say a word to her before
she wrestled me to the floor, ripped my shorts down my hips and
mounted me for what was the best fuck of my life.
Since that night, Ellen has "entertained" Harry numerous
times, sometimes with me home and watching and sometimes not.
She enjoys her new job and the numerous perks Harry is providing.
Tonight, at Harry's suggestion, she is going to "entertain"
Harry's boss.
I guess I still get a bang out of watching Ellen submit her
body to the intimacies of another lover, but I wonder if my
fantasies may have been better just as fantasies. I feel a
little jealous, because Ellen is loving this so much more than I
am. She gives herself so wantonly, always doing something new
with these lovers that we've never done before, and obviously
loves feeling another cock invade her body. I think it's really
slutty on her part.
END
----------------------------------------------------------------------
JB-RIDE
A LONG DAY
by J. BOSWELL
(with apologies to Louis L'Amour)
(c) Copyright October, 1991 by J BOSWELL, all rights, except
those explicitly detailed below, ARE RESERVED BY THE AUTHOR.
Electronic distribution (as a text file on an "adults only"
BBS) is permitted without alteration, but inclusion in any
type of "publication" offered for sale (eg., book, magazine,
CD-ROM, etc.) requires the author's explicit permission.
WARNING: This work of fiction is intended to be read by adults
only. The author has uploaded it only to known
"Adults, only" BBSs, and requests that you exercise the
same discretion. Also, this is a fantasy -- in real
life, please protect your lover and yourself by
practicing safe sex.
.........................
Night was coming on fast and Fallon decided it was time to
start looking for some shelter. A small arroyo or cut-back by a
stream-bed would be perfect. Something to get him out of the
cold desert wind that blows at night.
He dismounted and crept to the top of a small rise, being
careful not to present a silhouette on the ridge line. He was
surveying the vista and smelled it at the same time he saw it.
Burning wood.
Far to his left was the faintest trail of gray smoke rising
into the gray sky. He was lucky to even see it; another few
minutes and it would be lost in the darkness.
Fallon hoped it was a cabin. He liked the idea of sitting
on a real chair for a few hours instead of his horse. And the
thought of maybe sleeping under a roof, in front of a fire
brought a smile to his face. He didn't remember any pilgrims in
the area the last time he passed this way and it sure wasn't
farming country but that didn't mean some optimistic miner
couldn't be trying his hand at prospecting.
He just hoped it wasn't some loco who only wanted the
coyotes and Apaches for neighbors. He'd be lucky to get a
`hello' and `goodbye' from such unfriendly types.
No, Fallon was hoping it was some lonely miner, who would be
happy to share his roof and beans and fire for the night in
exchange for some palaver.
Although no true test, the rest of the area looked deserted,
so Fallon remounted and headed off in the direction of the smoke.
Now dark, he refrained from lighting a cigar and just watched the
terrain carefully. Riding into the wind, down and up, over the
rolling country, Fallon could smell the woodsmoke getting
stronger with each step. And with each step it smelled less like
a homey fire in a stone hearth and more like trouble.
Noiselessly, Fallon slid his well-used Henry rifle from its
soft leather scabbard and rested his thumb on the hammer.
Cresting the next ridge, Fallon saw that he was right -- it
was trouble -- but not his.
Before him was the remains of someone's Conestoga wagon and
their belongings. Most of the wagon was gone, burned down to a
pile of glowing ashes and the metal rims from the wheels. There
were pots and pans and the metal parts of tools scattered around
and some clothes, no more than scorched rags, now. The Apaches
had taken all they wanted and burned the rest. There wouldn't be
anything useful left.
Disappointed that it hadn't been a cabin with a pot of stew
on the fire, Fallon nudged his horse on, circling the wreckage.
With a sharp jerk he reined the horse to a stop and sat in shock
at the sight before him.
On the ground, naked and staked at her wrists and ankles was
a blonde woman. The first woman Fallon had seen in over three
weeks. He blinked to make sure he wasn't seeing things.
Fallon scanned the area around him, again, and then looked
down at the woman. Her face was turned away from him, but even
in the moonlight Fallon could see the damage the sun had done to
the skin normally covered with clothes. Her breasts were large
and soft looking but smudged with dirt, as were her stomach and
hips. Her blonde pubic hair was plastered and pressed flat and
the insides of her white thighs were dirty. Fallon could see her
chest rise and fall with her breathing.
"Ma'am?"
She jerked her head around and popped her eyes open to stare
at Fallon. "Oh! A white man! Thank the Lord! You are a white
man! I thought the savages had returned. Praise be!"
Fallon noticed she was fairly young and maybe would even be
more than just pretty, in a different situation. "Yes, Ma'am, I
am a white man. What happened to you?"
The woman looked up at Fallon and began talking. She talked
with one sentence rolling over the next, with one word flowing in
to all the rest of the words. Barely taking a breath, she shot
through her story with a rhythm that reminded Fallon of a Gatling
gun.
"Well, Mister, everything was fine and dandy this morning.
We -- my husband, Joshua, and my children Matthew, Lucas, Melody,
and Charity -- were in a wagon train -- Mr. Jed Fuller's? -- on
the way out to California. Right after we got underway this
morning, we were attacked by hundreds of savages. Joshua --
well, not just Joshua, a lot of wagons -- panicked and whipped
the horses to run their legs off. When we finally stopped, we
were lost and alone. We had no idea where anyone else was or if
they were even alive. We didn't know where we were so we just
kept on going.
"We soon got to a river, but we had to stop because it was
too deep and running too fast to cross. There were a lot of
rocks and rapids. Joshua turned us upstream in the hopes of
finding a safe fording place. When we finally found one, Joshua
and Matthew led the team. We were almost in the middle of the
river when the lead horses bucked and Joshua and Matthew were
toppled over and into the deeper water. We saw them fighting the
current and heard them yelling, and then they went under and none
of us saw them come up, again. They were gone! My husband and
my son! Gone!
"We looked and waited, but they were gone. My other son,
Lucas, found their bodies downstream -- all battered and bloody -
- and we buried them there as best we could. We went further
upstream and made it across the river and started up a long hill.
One of the horses stumbled and broke a leg. Lucas, cut him out
from the team and shot him. Then, we started down the other
side, and the three horses could barely keep us from rolling out
of control, all the way to the bottom. When we crossed this
plain, the horses refused to start up that hill over there and we
decided to rest them for the night.
"That's when the wolves came. A whole, big pack of them.
They must have found the dead horse, because they had blood all
over their fur. Poor little Lucas was sitting on one of the
horses when the wolves came running over the hill and the horses
took off. And they all disappeared. Including Lucas!
"Me and the girls hid in the wagon and cried and cried. All
the menfolk gone and certain the wolves would return to devour
us, too!
"But we were wrong. Instead of a pack of wolves, a pack of
painted savages appeared. I fired the pistol, but I didn't hit
any of them. They rode right up to us and grabbed my girls away
from me! Melody is 10 and Charity is only 8. Two indians put my
babies over their horses and sped away.
"The eight savages that were left ignored me as they picked
through every item in this wagon; eating all the food and
drinking all the cider and water. When they were satisfied, they
ripped my clothes off me and tied me down like this -- and then,
one after the other, they violated me. Some, more than once!
"I begged them to kill me. So I wouldn't suffer their
abuse. A white woman being ravaged by drunk, laughing, red
savages. I never heard them utter one word of English the whole
time. Finally, when they were all done with me, and could no
longer mistreat me, they got on their ponies and rode away,
whooping and hollering.
"They left me in the desert sun to die.
"And then, thank the Lord, you come along."
......
Fallon eased the Henry back into the scabbard. He slid off
the horse and looked down on the woman. Her skin glowed in the
moonlight. The marks on her round breasts and open pubis where
she was ravaged and raped were obvious. He moved closer to her.
He thought about what she had been through in one day.
Losing a husband, four children, all her earthly belongings and
her respectable womanhood. It was more than you could expect one
person to take.
He dropped his chaps and pants and pulled his hard cock from
out of his stained longjohns. He knelt between her spread legs
and spit on his prick's knobby head.
He had been wrong -- for once, the Apaches had left
something useful behind.
The woman looked up at him in surprise, with large round
eyes and he sadly informed her --
"Well, Ma'am, this sure ain't been your day."
(A little tongue-in-cheek, for a change.)
--
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