Fire! (Part 2)

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Neighbor Does My Wife

NEIGHBOR DOES MY WIFE Michelle lies motionless underneath me while I do my best to push my penis further inside her vagina, trying in vain to evoke some degree of excitement from my wife. I've been humping her for a good two minutes, which isn't bad going for me, and so I'm disappointed to look down on a rather bored looking woman to whom I am totally devoted. All right, I know I'm not the best lover in the world. Michelle had made that abundantly clear on our honeymoon, three weeks before. What really hurt was when she told me on our wedding night, after I had embarrassingly ejaculated in my pants before we'd even undressed, that she wished she'd "tried me out" before we got married. It was a pity that we couldn't consummate the marriage that night (I had a bit of trouble getting an erection after that), but we did have a cracking game of Gin Rummy. It was very thoughtful of someone to have left a pack of cards in one of the drawers of the hotel's bridal suite. I'd insisted that we didn't sleep together before the wedding, out of respect of my parent's wishes (they are deeply religious). What I hadn't told Michelle though, was that I was actually a virgin (I was slightly embarrassed about this fact, being twenty-six years old). We never talked about Michelle's previous experience, though I suspected that she had been to bed with at least one or two men. I didn't mind that though, I was hopelessly in love. To be honest, I was very surprised when Michelle agreed to go out with me in the first place. I used to see her at our local tennis club and tried talking to her on a few occasions without much success. It was only after she'd seen me in the car park one day that our relationship flourished. Jumping out of my car, after seeing Michelle strolling towards the clubhouse, I'd quickly grabbed my gear off the backseat and locked the door to my Mercedes. But before I had a chance to say anything, Michelle actually came over and remarked what a nice car it was. We began talking and before I knew it, she had practically invited herself out on a date. I couldn't believe my luck! Michelle is a very pretty girl. She's 5'8", two inches taller than I am, and at only twenty-one, five years younger. Her figure is fantastic. She plays lots of tennis, which helps keep her long legs and athletic body in shape. I, on the other hand, although a frequent visitor to the tennis club, am not very sports orientated. My coordination is not all that good, and so I am more of a spectator than an active participant. After the first date, which consisted of a rather delightful meal at one of the better restaurants in town, I grew totally besotted with Michelle. I sent her flowers every day and bought her presents by the truckload. I did, after all, want to show her how much I cared. Fortunately, my well-paid job, along with my family's money, allows me a fairly generous lifestyle, which I wanted to share with Michelle. She, by contrast, comes from a rather poorer background, but that didn't matter to me. If love conquers all, then I was truly defeated. It was after only two more dates that I asked Michelle to marry me. Funnily enough I don't actually remember popping the question. We'd had a fair amount to drink that Friday evening and everything was a bit of a blur the next morning. Michelle rang me excitedly about ten o'clock and asked me if I'd changed my mind. I asked her about what? "About wanting to marry me, silly", came the reply. I was stunned into silence for several moments. Had I actually asked her to marry me the night before? My head began to pound. I didn't want Michelle to think I'd been too drunk to remember and so hurriedly made a decision. "Of course not darling. I meant every word." After she'd hung up, I took some aspirin and rang my parents to tell them the good news. And so, after a short engagement, (two weeks, four days to be precise), we said our vows. Three weeks later and I'm making love to my wife on a Saturday morning, even though she seems to be rather pre-occupied. It does get a tad disconcerting when your wife starts talking about decorating in the middle of our lovemaking. Despite her comments about various different styles of wallpaper for the downstairs bathroom, I start to lose control. With a big grunt from me, I ejaculate into my wife's vagina and slump on top of her, burying my sweating brow into a pillow. "Have you cum yet?" She asks me in a rather uninterested fashion. "Err. yes, my dear." I bring my hand up to my face and press a button on the stopwatch function of my watch. Three minutes, thirty-two seconds. Great, that's twenty-six seconds faster than my personal best! "Simon, would you get off me now? You're fat gut is killing me!" "Oh, sorry my dear." I quickly pull out my shrinking penis, which has reduced from its five inches when fully hard, down to its more normal reduced length of about one, and flop down next to Michelle on the bed. As I lay there trying to regain my breath, the doorbell rings. "I wonder who that is?" remarks Michelle. We lie there for a few seconds, until my wife turns her head towards me. "Well? Aren't you going to answer it?" Although I love my wife very much, I have come to realise that she is a little bit lazy. Don't get me wrong, I don't mind doing all the cooking, but she could offer to help with some of the housework occasionally. I get up off the bed and pull on a dressing gown. The doorbell rings again just as I reach the front door. Standing on the porch, dressed in jeans and T-shirt, is a man about my age. That's where the similarities end though. He's about 6'0", with an athletic, well- toned, sun-tanned body, and I suppose what women would describe as a rather good-looking face. "Hi, I'm sorry to disturb you. ", He looks down at my rather flushed red face, still recovering from my P.B. "I'm Dan Williams. I've just moved in next door." He holds out a large hand, which envelops mine as we shake. His firm grip leaves my hand rather crushed when he releases it and I gently cradle it with the other behind my back, tentatively checking for broken bones. "Simon Taylor. Welcome to the neighborhood, Mr Williams" I say, hoping that he'll now leave so I can close the door and cry out in pain. "I'm still unpacking at the moment and I don't know where my toolbox is. I was wondering if I could borrow a screwdriver?" "Oh, I see. Well I'm not sure if I can help you. I'm not all that well equipped you see." "You can say that again." I turn round and see my lovely wife walking down the stairs, wearing just a semitransparent night-dress that shows off more than her attractive smile which she's beaming at our new neighbor. As Michelle reaches the bottom of the stairs, the bright sunshine streaming in through the open doorway means that the mound of her vagina is clearly visible to anyone looking; namely a very happy Dan Williams, and a very anxious me. "Ermm. this is my wife, Mrs Taylor. Michelle, this is Dan Williams, our new neighbor." My wife brushes past me and stands directly in the doorway. "Nice to meet you Dan. Is your wife with you?" "Likewise Mrs Taylor, and no, actually I'm not married." From my sideways view, I can see my wife's nipples pressing against the silky fabric of her night-dress and I wish she'd put a dressing gown on. I also see her eyes light up, when she hears that our neighbor's single. I expect she has some matchmaking in mind with one of her friends. The two of them are standing practically next to each other, and I worry about Michelle's revealing neckline. I expect Dan has a good view of my wife's breasts from his height. I can't be sure though as I'm only 5'6". "I was just saying to your husband that I could use a good screwdriver." "I know the feeling, but what can you do?" Michelle laughs at her own comment, which quite frankly leaves me somewhat perplexed, and motions with her finger for Mr Williams to follow her. Michelle walks along the hallway and into the kitchen, closely followed by Mr Williams, who seems to be rubbing his crotch slightly. Probably a touch of groin strain from lifting all those tea chests, I deduce. Hey, I should have been a detective! I close the front door and scurry after them into the kitchen and out into the adjoining utility room. My wife bends over at the waist and opens a drawer, where a small assortment of tools and bric-a-brac is kept. What she doesn't realize though, is that the outline her two buttocks and her vagina lips are clearly on show to Mr Williams directly behind her. "See anything you can use, Dan?" asks my wife, wiggling her behind. I wonder if she needs the toilet? Mr Williams clears his throat. "Well, they're not as big as my tools, but I guess I can make do." "Just how big is your tool?" Michelle asks, turning her head, still bent over at the waist. I can't really see the relevance of that question, but I guess she's just making polite conversation. "Erm. well, it's a little over eleven inches", replies the new neighbor, who looks to be getting fairly hot under the collar. It does seem to be getting pretty warm; the three of us confined in the small space of the utility room. Mr Williams must have spotted what he was looking for, because he bends over Michelle and picks up a screwdriver out of the drawer. Michelle accidentally backs into him and lets out a little yelp, and they both sort of fall forwards. Our new neighbor reaches round and grabs Michelle to steady himself. I'm sure it's an accident that it's one of her breasts that he's holding. Likewise, I'm convinced Michelle didn't put her hand back and squeeze Mr William's crotch on purpose. She was just trying to steady herself. "Christ, you weren't joking were you!" exclaims my wife, slowly getting up off the floor and then eventually releasing her grip from the man's jeans. "Joke? What's the joke?" I asked, cheerily. I do like a good laugh, me. Michelle turns to face me, a blank expression on her face. "You are Simon." I don't quite get the punch line, and I'm still thinking about it as Michelle and Mr Williams walk past me, giggling, into the lounge. Following their footsteps I enter the room just in time to see them sitting down together on the settee. It's nice to see everyone getting on so well, especially as we've all only just met. "Would you like a drink Dan?" asks my wife, the attentive hostess. "Sure, something cold would be nice. It's kind of warm all of a sudden." He says, looking admiringly at my wife's legs. I look down and see that Michelle's night-dress has ridden up, exposing a large quantity of thigh. I feel that I ought to warn her, but I don't want to be the source of embarrassment in front of company, so I decide to defer saying anything until a more discreet moment arises. Michelle turns her head to me as I am just about to sit down in an armchair across from them. "Simon?" I look blankly at my wife and flop down into the chair. "Drinks", she finally says. It's obvious who she's expecting me to prepare the drinks. We really must sit down and have a discussion about sharing the workload around the house I decide, as I get to my feet. "And don't forget the apron." Instructs my darling wife as I leave the room. That's another thing. Whenever I'm serving drinks or doing the housework, Michelle always insists that I wear a black and white frilly apron, which she's bought me. If I protest, which I did quite strongly the first few times I have to say, she tells me that it makes sense to protect my clothes from spillage. She points out that because I'm rather clumsy at times, (my co-ordination not being that great as I mentioned earlier), I'm more likely to ruin my clothes if I'm not careful, and hence the apron. One thing I have to say about my Michelle. She's always got my best interests at heart. And so I retire to the kitchen and put on the frilly apron over my dressing gown, which is in its usual place, hanging up behind the kitchen door. After pouring three glasses of lemonade and putting them on a tray, I return to my wife and our guest. Curiously, as I walk through the door, I see Mr Williams hand between Michelle's legs. When they see me come in, they look up slightly startled, and Mr Williams removes his hand. "Err. Dan dropped his keys down the side of the sofa. He was just looking for them", explained my wife. "Oh right," I said, "Do you want me to help?" Dan feels the pocket of his jeans. "Oops, my mistake. They were here all the time." I had wondered what that large bulge was in Mr William's jeans. Must be uncomfortable keeping a large set of keys like that in your jeans pocket, I thought. I walk over to the coffee table and set down the tray, wondering what the small amount of sniggering was all about as I sit down and flatten down the front of my apron. "Well, this is nice", I say, smiling and raising my glass. Mr Williams and Michelle pick up their glasses after a little encouragement from me, and we drink a toast to our new neighbor. "To Mr Williams. I hope we can make you feel very welcome in our neighborhood", I cheer and tip back the glass of lemonade a little too quickly, sending bubbles up my nostrils. Mr Williams looks at Michelle and smiles. "I'm feeling very much at home already." With that my wife leans over and kisses Mr Williams on the lips, in what I'm sure is just a very friendly gesture. However, I do think that when they open their mouths and exchange tongues, that this could be construed as being a little over the top. During the fifteen-second kiss, I take another couple of sips from my drink, and consider what I should make for lunch. Eventually Michelle and Mr Williams untangle their tongues and brake apart. I notice that my wife's breathing has become a little heavy, and I make a mental note to advise her to take a medical in the near future. Remembering my duties as host, I get up and ask Mr Williams if he'd care for a top-up. In my rather over eagerness to take the half empty glass he's holding, out of his hand, I manage to spill the remaining contents all over his lap. Apologizing profusely at my clumsiness I duck into the kitchen to fetch a damp cloth. When I return Mr Williams is standing in the middle of the lounge, looking as if he'd just wet himself. I know I shouldn't have, but I couldn't help letting out a small, stifled chortle at the poor man's situation. My wife snatched the cloth from my hand and went down on her knees in front of our guest. She very attentively begins mopping up the spillage on the jeans concentrating around the crotch area. "These are soaked," she says, squeezing the material with her bare hand. "I think you'd better take them off." She looks up at a somewhat surprised Mr Williams and gives him a smile. Mr Williams looks over at me, and I gave a little shrug. I know better than to question my wife's judgment about things. Once she makes her mind up, that's it. Michelle begins unbuttoning the gentleman's jeans, which is very thoughtful of her, but I do think she can be a little less violent in the way she is ripping at his 501's. After completing the task in record time, Michelle then begins to ease the material down over Mr William's waist. Pretty soon the jeans are around his ankles and Mr Williams stands in a somewhat tight fitting pair of briefs, which show a rather large outline of his penis. Unfortunately it seems that the lemonade has also penetrated the material of the jeans because I can see a large damp circle forming, which I point out to Michelle. "Mmmm yes, I think these need to come off as well", she says, rubbing a finger round and round the damp patch. I thought it rather inappropriate that my wife is peeling down our next door neighbors underpants, and I'm just about to say something when I see what is contained in them. My wife and I both gasp as an enormous penis springs into view, slapping my wife in the face. "Oh my God!" cries Michelle, literally gob-smacked by the over-sized appendage. "Err. quite impressive." I manage to say, thinking about my own, rather smaller counter-part. "Jesus, it's beautiful!" My wife is totally mesmerized by the large piece of meat dangling between Mr Williams' legs. I too, am fairly amazed at the size of the man's penis and so am not totally surprised when my wife reaches out her hand and clasped around as much of the circumference as she can. What I don't count on though was when she says: "Oh look, there's some lemonade on the tip", then dips her head and sticks out her tongue. Before I can point out to her that it's probably not actually lemonade, but in fact far more likely to be a natural lubricant originating from the hole of the penis (I'd read a book on that sort of thing once), it's too late. Her eyes cast up towards Mr Williams' face, she runs her tongue over the tip of his penis and then, lifting the shaft so it points to the ceiling, continues to run her tongue along the underside towards the base. Things are getting rather out of hand I access, and so seek to bring proceedings to a halt. "Erm. my dear, shouldn't we get Mr Williams something to wear. He must be getting rather chilly standing like that." Reluctantly removing her mouth from our guest's penis, Michelle mumbles something under her breath. "Well, that's one hell of a goose bump then." "Sorry, my dear? I didn't quite hear what you said." Michelle turns and grins at me, like she does when I've just given her a present. "I said, well you'd better put his clothes in the washer then." With that she throws the pairs of jeans and briefs at me, making a direct hit with the underpants which hit me square in the face. As I wrestle to remove the offending article of clothing from my face, I can't help noticing the strong manly odor exuding from the crotch. Michelle and Mr Williams laugh heartily as she remarks that it looks like I'm wearing a Balaclava. My wife has a terrific sense of humor at times, and I have to agree that the situation was amusing. Gathering Mr Williams' clothes in my arms, I announce that I will put them on a short wash before transferring them to the dryer. This seems to be widely accepted as a good idea, as neither he nor my wife makes any adverse comments. Instead Michelle leads Mr Williams out into the hall by his penis, and they head towards the stairs. "We're going upstairs to find Dan something to wear", informs Michelle when I enquire where they were going. Satisfied that my wife can handle things admirably without my assistance, I go out into the kitchen to attend to our neighbor's washing. A couple of minutes later I'm sitting back down in the living room, wondering what to do next. Then suddenly I hear a noise coming from upstairs. It sounds a lot like my wife screaming. Fearing of an accident I run out of the room and up the stairs, stopping on the way to retrieve the First Aid box from a hall cupboard. It's always best to be well prepared for the worst, I think. When I reach the top of the stairs I call out my wife's name and suddenly everything goes quiet. A door slams, the sound coming from inside our bedroom, and so I rush in there only to find the room empty and the door to the en suite bathroom firmly closed. "Michelle? Are you all right my dear? I heard screaming." There's a slight pause, and then I hear my wife's voice from the other side of the bathroom door. "It's OK Simon. I err. just banged my leg." "Oh, right", I reply, and then a thought occurs to me. "Where's Mr Williams?" "Oh, well he's in here. He's aaah. just giving it a rub for me." It's very nice of Mr Williams to try to assist my wife like that, but he doesn't have any medical equipment in there, so I decide it would be best if I help. I open the door and find Michelle sitting on the edge of the bath, her legs spread apart, night-dress tucked up around her waist. Mr Williams is kneeling in between my wife's legs, apparently massaging Michelle's inner thigh. What is a little disconcerting for me is the fact that Michelle's vagina was on full view to our neighbor, and because her legs are placed so far apart, her lips are spread wide open. However I don't want to draw attention to it and so I keep my mouth shut. I must confess, seeing my wife's genitals like this is a considerable turn-on for me. Michelle doesn't normally show her naughty bits off to me because we found that I was liable to ejaculate rather prematurely, as was demonstrated on our wedding night. So, in an effort to prolong the pleasure for my loved one, I make sure that my wife is safely tucked under the covers, out of sight, before I come into the bedroom (as it were). Standing there in our bathroom, I put the medical box down on the toilet seat and open it up. Meanwhile Mr Williams continues to rub his hands all over my wife's thighs, concentrating on the insides. Michelle makes a slight groaning noise now and then. She's obviously in some pain. "Would you like me to take over?" I ask Mr Williams, who I notice is still very much naked from the waist down; his large weapon dangles between his legs. "No!" Snaps Michelle, "Pass Dan some ointment that he can rub in." I rummage in the box, looking for some appropriate medication for my loved one's ills, without much luck. "I'm sorry dear there doesn't seem to." "There!" she points to a plastic tube on the windowsill. I picked up the container and read the label. "But this is moisturizing lotion!" I say quizzically, fearing that my wife's pain was making her delirious. Mr Williams twists round and grabs the tube from me, immediately squeezing a large amount into the palm of his hand. "This'll do fine", he says. Cupping his hand slightly, Mr Williams smoothes the cool cream on Michelle's inner thigh, very close to her you know what. Working his hand in a circular motion he moves it higher and higher up my wife's leg, until eventually his hand is directly over my wife's pink vagina. Incidentally, my wife keeps most of her pubic area clean-shaven except for a small amount at the top of her mound. She tells me that it's more hygienic like that. When Mr William's fingers start gently rubbing my wife's inner labia, I started to get a little concerned. Not feeling that this is quite proper, I clear my throat and speak. "Is that really where you're hurting, my love?" "Oh yes! Don't stop. That feels so good!" Mr Williams now appears to have several fingers inserted into my wife's vagina and is thrusting them in and out. It occurs to me that his two fingers are about double the thickness of my penis, so I'm very concerned that he might be hurting my wife. I take great care when making love to my wife that my penis doesn't cause too much friction when moving in and out of her vagina. She often remarks to me not to worry, as there's no danger of that happening. However, despite my misgivings about the situation, the treatment offered by Mr Williams seems to be doing some good, if the cries from my wife are any indication. "Yes! Oh yesss!" she pleads, and actually takes hold of Mr Williams' hand and pulls it harder towards her. My penis is making a dent in my dressing gown by this time and I fear that I might not be able to hold out much longer. I know it isn't right to get a sexual kick out of my poor wife's situation, but I just can't help it. I try to think of cricket and tax returns but it's proving very difficult. My train of thought is broken by a rather strange request from Mr Williams. "Quick, Simon. Rub some of that lotion on my dick!" It takes a few moments for the words to register, and even longer for me to react. But before I have a chance to ask "Why?" he picks up the tube and squirts a big dollop in my hand. "Come on Simon, your wife is waiting." I look perplexed over at Michelle who's leaning back over the bath, bracing her hands against the wall behind her. I notice that one of the straps of her night-dress has fallen off her shoulder, exposing one of her large, firm, breasts. "Do as he says!" she hisses. Not wanting to displease my darling wife, I drop to the floor and reach between the new neighbor's legs. Taking his hot, giant member in one hand, I'm amazed at the monster's girth. Holding it up, I smooth my other hand over the head of his penis. "That's it. Work it all over", instructs Mr Williams, and I immediately comply, covering the whole of his big shiny weapon with the moisturizing cream. My neighbor, satisfied with my application, nudges me out of the way and shuffles towards Michelle. He removes his fingers from her vagina and then to my horror, lines his big, fat, penis up with my wife's gaping hole. "Wha- what are you doing?" I ask incredulously. "What does it look like?" he replies casually. I look to my wife who pleads to me with her eyes. "Please Simon, I need this man's cock inside me. You do understand, don't you?" Well I do pride myself on being a caring and understanding husband, it's true. However, I wasn't sure that this is altogether right. But looking into my gorgeous wife's eyes, I know that her happiness is more important to me than anything else and I could tell that this is something that she really wants. The fact that her hands are clenched around Mr Williams' buttocks, pulling him closer towards her, is a fair indication too. And so I just smile weakly and say nothing. "Tell you what sport, you can put it in for me," says Mr Williams, who I think is feeling a little sorry for me. Michelle grins and nods her head enthusiastically at me, urging me on. "Go on Simon. Put his big prick in me," she enthuses. I reach over and take hold of the big staff for the second time. Michelle moves her legs forward to accept her prize, and I position the huge, bulbous head against my wife's sticky entrance. Slowly I ease the well lubricated head inside my wife, her vaginal walls stretching to accommodate the big snake, until about three or four inches are inside my wife. "OK Simon, I think I can take it from here", quips Mr Williams, taking hold of Michelle's bottom cheeks resting on the side of the bath. With that he pushes his large penis inside my wife of three weeks. "Oooh yes! Oh my God, you're so fucking huge!" Mr Williams pulls his greased-up weapon out slightly, then slams it deeper inside Michelle's accommodating vagina. Soon he's building up a steady rhythm and giving my wife long, deep strokes. "Argh yes! Fuck me! Your cock is so beautiful!" My wife is writhing and making all sorts of funny noises as our neighbor continues to pummel his penis in and out of her hole. "Oooh I'm cuming! I'm cuming! I." Michelle's face grows all contorted and at one point I fear that she may have done herself some kind of internal injury. This is all too much for me though, I'm afraid. My little five-inch penis, tucked away beneath my apron and dressing gown, can finally take no more. Inexplicably I feel my minnow penis erupt without me even touching it, and a thin stream of watery semen runs down my leg. I'm proud to say that Mr Williams wasn't very far behind, and it makes me wonder what his personal best is. "Oh Michelle, I'm gonna cum!" he exclaims, still thrusting in and out of my wife. Michelle pulls our neighbor tightly to her with one hand. "Don't pull out. I want you to cum inside my cunt! Put a baby in me please!" I'm extremely alarmed at this, but I put it down to over-enthusiasm on my wife's part. She seems to be getting carried away with her love making, which is funny because she never says anything like that when I make love to her. "Oh, oh, oh! Here it comes!" Mr Williams makes one final thrust, pushing his gigantic member as far into my wife as it will go. Then he freezes as he empties a sac- load of sperm into my wife. I can tell there's a lot because some of it begins seeping out Michelle's vagina and drips onto the bathroom tiles. "Oh my God," my wife eventually says after regaining her composure. "I think I'm going to have triplets!" "Are you feeling any better now dear?" I ask. 47451 2.10/512345

The Beautiful Mary Lou Garcia Part II

Thanks for all the kind words and encouragement. FYI. The lovely Mary Lou Garcia is based on my beautiful wife. Yes, she does exist. If you want to know a little more about her drop me an email. She is stunning. Enjoy the story and keep that feedback coming. Comments welcome piano59p@aol.com * Steven and Mary Lou Garcia left the estate of John Ryan almost a day earlier than had originally been agreed upon by both parties. The price of the early departure had been incredibly high. It could not be measured by the almighty dollar. As he drove off Steven looked in the rear view mirror of his S.U.V. and stared back at the mansion. He could not help but think about how something special had been taken from him and his precious wife. Would she even remain his wife, Steven thought to himself. The final $150,000 would be in their account on Monday morning John Ryan assured them. It was Sunday and he could not make the financial transaction. The total take $250,000. More than enough money to make the couple almost debt free (except for their home) and with no financial worries. He should be feeling relieved but he was too good of a man to allow himself those feelings based on what he and his beautiful wife Mary Lou were forced to sacrifice. More so his wife. He glanced over at her to begin a conversation but she was asleep, absolutely exhausted from what her body had endured over the past 48 hours. He tried to justify it in his mind but it was of no use. No one got hurt or was put in danger. No one was forced to do anything they would not agree to. This would be different. The scars, the hurt, and the pain would be emotional. It was difficult to believe but his wife with the looks of a beauty queen and the virtue of an innocent school girl had only experienced the ecstasy of sexual relations with one man her entire life. Her husband Steven. That was before Friday. They had agreed that Mary Lou would have repeated and extremely erotic carnal relations with a young stud. The reward being a large sum of money. The end result was that the wealthy John Ryan would satisfy his voyeuristic tendencies. What they were not told in advance was that the young stud was a stupendously endowed black man named James. James took Mary Lou over and over during the course of the weekend. Mr. Ryan and Steven watched most of the mating sessions. The black stud and the beautiful married Hispanic wife and mother shared a bedroom, bathroom and private living quarters. Mr. Ryan had cameras hidden in their 'private' area and no doubt witnessed their erotic couplings there as well. A large part of John Ryan's obsession was that the husband or boyfriend was to be present to witness the raw sex. He absolutely loved watching young beautiful, preferably married white women mate with big black studs who possessed cocks that belonged on horses. The look on the women's and their significant other's faces was part of the thrill. He had no need for attractive sluts, strippers, or even models. He preferred enticing the everyday type of women - nurses, teachers, office girls, but his favorite were housewives. It was amazing how many beautiful randy neglected housewives roamed the malls, grocery stores, and restaurants everywhere he went. He was never disappointed at how money and a big cock could turn these women into weekend whores. The Weekend Steven began the 1 hour drive home to their suburban Maryland residence thinking about the previous 48 hours. The first mating of the black stud and the gorgeous Hispanic wife and 6210 2.25/512345

I Married A Blow Job Queen Ch. 06

(It is not necessary to read the first six installments of this series, but recommended.) * I couldn't believe how much my ex-wife loved cock. Absolutely loved it. It was one thing for her to suck my dick twice a week in return for certain monetary favors, but on the recent trip where she blew me in the car under the watchful eyes of several onlooking truckers, the fact was emphasized as we pushed the envelope to new heights. Oh, I knew Nancy Jean loved cock. We split up, got back together, broke up, and finally divorced because I caught her in the act of sucking off a variety of men. I didn't know it when we were first married, but it all traced back to her high school years. Apparently the 18-year-old senior sucked off half the male class. That was a fact I was totally oblivious to when we were dating, courting and ultimately married. I didn't have a clue back in those days and really didn't find out the details of her being named by some of the guys as the Blow Job Queen of Ridley High until our 10th reunion. What made it worse was I heard about her younger proclivity for sucking cock by accident, overhearing guys speaking about a cock-sucking slut which turned out to be my wife. That night, the following nights and the next couple years were a whirlwind of brain-slammed days and nights as my mind became jumbled with the fact my wife couldn't control her unladylike activities. Ultimately, we had lawyers sort out the gory details and we attempted to move on with our lives. In recent years, after the matrimonial split, my interactions with my ex-wife were centered on a 20-30 minute afternoon interlude on Wednesdays when she'd arrive from her school teaching job, lock the door, and suck me off in return for a little extra in her checking account. I loved the fact that since our marriage had ended she'd had a hard time making ends meet with her schoolteacher's pay. Not that she didn't make much money, because she did. But she also had expensive tastes and a penchant for running up her credit card bills. I used to joke there wasn't a sale she didn't like, and she always preferred name brands rather than the generic. New clothes, cars, you name it, Nancy Jean loved them. That led her back to my door, because I was a pushover for a little added to her bank account in return for her worshiping my cock for a few minutes Wednesday afternoons. Oh, she'd say she felt like a whore, but she needed the money and I wanted to ensure my kids were able to stay in the house they were growing up in. It wasn't until her current beau, the married vice principal at her school, was nearly caught in the act of seeing my wife on the side that she slowed that action. Nancy Jean and Jim decided to cool it for a while, as his wife was monitoring everything in his life. That meant reviewing their bank account and every expenditure like an auditor, so Nancy Jean wasn't getting help from his side when her dad turned ill and the family needed cash. She of course turned to me, and I of course took her up on her offer. We'd done a few "road trips" where she'd blow me in the car, a national park and a ball field where as a youngster I'd played baseball during the day and made out with girls at night. The best was the time she blew me in front of the truckers, because that was the day we met truck driver Rick in a diner. He'd watched the action in the car, and later that day got to sample Nancy Jean's talents in the cab of his truck. That's right, I convinced my ex-wife to blow a guy she'd just met. It was a fantastic sight, watching her work his cock. I couldn't believe it, she actually did it in the cab of his rig, just feet away from where other trucks were parked. Not that they could hear or see any of the action, although I am positive a couple saw us enter the vehicle. On the walk over with the man I felt her hand tremble, I knew she was terrified on one hand yet excited on the other. I remember thinking that if I'd reach under her skirt I'd find a soaking wet pussy trembling with anticipation of the act she was about to perform. Watching her blow the trucker in his cab was one of the most exciting things I'd ever witnessed. Nancy Jean, once in action, was amazing. It was like watching an HD movie on the big screen, as I was only feet away from the action. For several seconds I actually helped her, holding her head and directing it on his cock. I could see her lips working overtime on the trucker's cock, the saliva escaping her mouth and ultimately his pearly white cum filling and spilling from her talented mouth. On the ride home I had her suck me off again, so the woman had three copious loads of man sauce in her tummy in several hours. I wondered if she saw Jim that night, and if he got a nice, sloppy kiss. That would have been hot, really hot. Over the next couple weeks in our weekly Wednesday sessions I fantasized about the trucker getting his cock sucked off in the cab while I watched. Only on these days Nancy Jean was actually sucking me off while I visualized her on her knees blowing the horny trucker. I especially loved it when Nancy Jean, after swallowing my cum, would smooth down her knee length skirt, carefully re-apply her make up, and then gracefully leave my office as my all-knowing secretary commented on how nice she looked. I loved the fact that I could get my ex-wife to her knees so easily, and especially loved the way she was humiliated at having to perform at my whim. But it wasn't until my friend John's announcement that he was getting married that I got "the idea". I thought of something as a payback for Nancy Jean's ruining of our marriage. Of her cheating behind my back, and later right in front of me. Of her blowing my best friend, our best man, my boss and countless others. Of kissing her at night without the knowledge that another man had been fucking her face hours before. The humiliation of having to face men, several men, who had sampled my then-wife's mouth with their cocks brought shivers to my spine. I wanted to kick their collective asses, but that would have only landed me in the slammer. I wanted to kick her ass, but that would have brought worse consequences. Heck, a friend of mine had beaten his wife and got 10 years in the state penitentiary. So in the end I kept the anger to myself. Still, when Nancy Jean needed some extra cash I gladly set up a regular appointment in my office for her to arrive, come in, suck my cock and leave....all in a quick half hour of wham, bam, thank you man. The woman had no shame, as evidenced by her sucking off a trucker at my insistence for a little extra cash. My plan of ultimate humiliation for my ex-wife came to fruition with the bachelor party for my friend John. He didn't know it at the time, but Nancy Jean was going to be our scandalous entertainment. The party was to be held at a local bar, where, when I told the owner of my plans, he quick agreed to close that night "for inventory" as long as he could participate in the planned activities. I quickly agreed. It was time for a payback for Nancy Jean's cheating on me. It wasn't until well after we had gotten married that I found out Nancy Jean's proclivity for sucking cock, especially those men she wasn't married too. Prior to my stumbling on the fact that she had been an active cocksucker on dates --- thought not with me ---- and then after out marriage her sucking around, I had thought we had a good thing going. When I found out it all fit together. She was a great cocksucker in high school, although I had no idea. She was a great cocksucker in marriage, a fact I knew from first hand experience but not about how many times she got on our knees without me. And she was a superb cocksucker after our divorce, as our weekly escapades displayed. The bachelor party idea was priceless. Oh we had planned on having two strippers perform for the 12 guys present that night, girls who would disrobe on the bar and dance and gyrate to numerous tunes. But the main attraction was in the back of the bar in a makeshift plywood enclosure. Nobody but the bar owner and I knew of the plan. On the afternoon of the party the bar owner and I worked magic to make the enclosure that would house Nancy Jean that night. I taped a couple posters on one wall of the private "hut", the inside which could be accessed from behind a curtain. On one wall I fashioned a hole, what you might know as a glory hole found in some adult bookstores. Inside and outside I hooked up a pair of security cameras with a direct line to the 12 LCD televisions in the bar. Heck, I didn't want anyone to miss the action in the back, especially the special guests I would be inviting. I thought back to the final straw broken in our marriage, when I caught Nancy Jean and her boss at the school where she taught, Jim Thompson, in the act behind a local diner. Apparently they had had lunch, and then Nancy Jean savored and munched on cock for desert. That was humiliating for me, but not as much as the time when my cousin caught the two of them in the act behind a local shopping center. She wasn't sure it was Nancy Jean, but I was positive. There were times when I hated the woman for what she did, and that just led to my enjoyment each and every time I had the slut suck my cock off after the ink dried on the divorce decree. It was a great feeling knowing the woman was so willing to suck my dick after sucking so many others for her own thrills. Somehow I "forgot" to tell my ex-wife about the cameras. Oh well. Luckily for me Nancy Jean struggled a bit with money after the divorce, especially after hook up with Jim Thompson. He had been helping out with some monetary favors but when his wife became suspicious he became extremely careful with his wallet. I didn't mind shelling out a little extra for the ex-wife in return for her providing regular mouth music for me. As my idea germinated I began getting a little friendlier toward Jim Thompson. His divorce was nearly complete, and so were his own wedding plans to marry his cock-sucking sweetheart, Nancy Jean. It was a little déjà vu all over again as I knew he didn't have an idea about how his future wife was still performing fellatio on me. And while I assumed that would end with marriage --- she wouldn't need my support any more --- one never knows with Nancy Jean. In any event, the bachelor party would be a big sendoff. Over time I "bumped" into Thompson at Starbucks. He was a little taken back, as I don't think he knew how to handle his now-girlfriend's former husband. Who knows what she was saying about me. But I pushed off his fears and concerns and bought him a latte. A couple weeks later we met again, and this time we sat and talked for a while. Even Nancy Jean was a little surprised at how well Jim and I got together. "He seems like a good man, Nancy Jean," I said one Wednesday afternoon as she was sucking my cock. "Take it deeper, oh yea, that's it. Use your lips...yea; he seems like a good guy. I am sure you two were made for each other." The fact that she was still sucking my cock when she was unofficially engaged to Jim was quite a large turn-on for me. She claimed she needed the extra cash --- his pending divorce settlement was near ruining him financially --- but I think she also liked the regular weekly serving of cock. Over time Jim became comfortable with me and was very intrigued by the idea of attending the bachelor party for my friend. I didn't give him all the details, only that there would be cards, beer and a little life exotic entertainment. I laughed inside at how he'd love that entertainment! The logistics for the affair were intense, as I needed a lot of things to come together. Luckily the bar owner was very obliging to my needs, because I promised him his "needs" would be met. In time the party came together and I was hard with anticipation of that Friday night's activities. The morning of the bachelor party I ran into Jim Thompson, and in speaking he wondered if he could bring his just turned 18-year-old son to the affair. "Nothing wrong with seeing some women without their clothes on, right Rob?" he asked. At first I was put back, and then smiled inside. It was perfect, and I said of course as long as he would vouch not to have one drop of booze hit his son's lips. That night I welcomed each of the now 13 men --- 12 men and a young man actually --- and we began the festivities. It was funny, as several of the guys I invited knew Jim. I had his lawyer, who I knew from doing some work for me over the years, as well as two of his co-workers. Of course the man of honor, John, and seven of his close friends. Heck, it was his night, but having brought him in early on my evil ways he was chomping at the bit for this night of frivolity. Then their was a big, burly bar owner, who couldn't help smiling when he thought of the night's festivities. It started innocently enough, a toast to the soon to be groom, some gag gifts. We carved out a melon and showed him how a dildo could easily be inserted into the small hole. To whoots and hollers Bill "fucked" the melon with the long-red dildo, all the while giving instruction to John on how he could do the same with his cock on nights when his wife wasn't "in the mood" for sex. We all got a laugh at that one. Various ballgames were on the television screens above the bar, soon replaced by porno as the crowd took it up a level and got a little raunchier. The bar owner brought on plates of buffalo wings and other munchies before our eyes were drawn to a pair of beautiful young dancers I'd hired for the high from a local strip club. Each was dressed in a Catholic schoolgirl outfit, complete with white blouses and tie, short pleated skirts, white stockings and black patent leather pumps. They were gorgeous, and the men enjoyed exotic topless lap dances for the next half hour. During the exotic dances I slipped to the back and let Nancy Jean into the building. My ex-wife only knew she was doing me a big favor, having a big pay day and that she'd get more cock that ever. That thought turned her on, once I assured her that nobody would know it was her. It would be totally anonymous, I assured her, and she'd get a full filling of cock. I was so happy she'd informed me of her fantasy years ago! The little enclosure where she'd spend the next 90 minutes was actually comfortable for her. She had a chair, pillows were on the floor and I had a bottle of spring water for her. I explained the deal, guys would come into the room, come over to the wall, and she could ask for cock or they'd know to give it to her. I pointed out the package of flavored condoms if she or the guys wanted to use them. "Disguise your voice if you are uncomfortable, but I think they will know what to do," I explained, knowing full well that the handwritten "free blow jobs here" and "insert cock here" handwritten signs on the wall with arrows pointing to the hole would be more than enough motivation for the horny men. What I didn't mention was that a camera was shooting from right behind her, and would show constant action once I turned it on. That camera would be on several of the screens in the bar. I also failed to mention the second camera, right to her side, which would give a wonderful view of her head bobbing and her mouth munching on cock. Of course, she would have backed our and died if she knew, so I thought it best to leave the little details out. I would turn the first camera on in minutes, and it would be on a couple of the screens while the porno would stay on the others. The idea was to have it blend in for a while with the other shows. The second camera would have all the blow-by-blow activities for my personal use later. Nancy Jean was nervous, but I assured her she was safe. She was somewhat scared, but by the same token, excited. She warmed to the task, playing with my cock. "Will I get to suck you off tonight?" I had to smile. Had she known of my nefarious plans she'd have died. "Sure, how about right now?" I left her in the room, clicked on the cameras, and hit the switch to begin broadcasting to the bar. Moving around in front of the enclosure, I dropped my pants and ran my finger around the hole in the wall. Soon I felt Nancy Jean's lips licking my fingers and I knew she was into the action. I inserted my cock and felt the girl stroke my dick. "Oh Rob, I love this cock," said my ex-wife from behind the wall. "I always have and always will. Can I suck it?" "You bet, Nancy Jean, suck away." That was all the motivation needed, and Nancy Jean began munching on my hardening meat. It was so erotic, standing there, rocking in and out of the hole in the wall, making a fantasy of my own come true. No it wasn't anonymous sex, but it was the next best thing. It was safe, it was hot, and I luxuriated to the mouth music Nancy Jean was making. After a bit I slipped my dick out of the hole in the wall and asked Nancy Jean for a favor. "Put a rubber on me, I want to try that. Like you were a virgin or something," As if she on her knees sucking a cock through a hole was virginal. Nancy Jean cooed at the idea. She fumbled around for a minute, but soon my cock was encased in rubber. She immediately told me how good it tasted, but not as good as my bare cock. Still she didn't miss a beat, sucking harder as I rocked into her mouth, all the while holding the wall to remain steady. The feelings on my throbbing dick were intense. In the bar, I heard some loud yells as the guys caught on to the action on the screens. There was porno on some of the screens, of course, but on one of the screens I surmised they could see someone, actually me, getting a blow job through a glory hole. If only they knew! My ex-wife worked my cock with practiced perfection, holding the base while bobbing her head on the stem. Getting blown with a rubber gave different intensity, and it actually heightened my enjoyment because it was so very different. Soon I was begging the girl to suck harder and when she did I shot glob after glob into the rubber in her mouth. Nancy Jean continued her mouth assault and hand stroking until I was completely spent. "Take off the rubber and drink my come down, Nancy Jean," was my quiet command. She slipped the rubber off my dick and, as I peered through the glory hole, she held the rubber to the ceiling and milked my cum into her mouth. My dick hardened again as I watched the sexy, naughty actions of my ex-wife. Once drained, the dropped the condom on the floor. I complimented Nancy Jean and said she had a couple minutes before my replacement came. Walking back to the bar I saw the guys looking intensely at the screens. On one I could see the back of Nancy Jean's head, tilted back as she drank from her water bottle. "This porno is hot," said the man of honor, John. "That slut just sucked off a guy through a glory hole!" The good thing was that you couldn't tell it was Nancy Jean, only a girl. The back of her head was prominent, but not her face. I called him over. "How'd you like the same thing?" I asked. "Would I, are you kidding? That would be awesome. From one of the strippers?" "Nope, even better. One of their friends who is an expert cock-sucker. She's waiting in the back room, just like on the screen." I gave him the rules and directions, and soon his cock appeared on the screen coming through the hole in front of my ex-wife. Nancy Jean reached over and started stroking the John's hardening cock. Soon she had jerked the guy hard and her head bent over to allow his cock to slip into her mouth. All assembled quit looking at the other screens and locked onto the glory hole blowjob. "That's awesome," said the bar owner, standing next to me. "Wow," exclaimed Jim Thompson while his son merely stared at the screen. "So, she's really in the back room?" I assured him the "girl" was. The guy hadn't caught on to which girl it actually was! "The strippers were great, dad, but that girl is unbelievable. Can I go back there?" Thompson looked at me, and I nodded yes and said he had to wait his turn but that he was going to get blown. Nancy Jean was in rare form, bouncing her head up and down the cock as she blew John with a special gusto. She was taking no prisoners, as she sucked the cock with abandon. Up and down went her hand from the base while her head did the same from the top. When she wasn't sucking she was holding the dick and licking it from stem to stern. It wasn't long before her head slowed as the guy was obviously shooting his man sauce into her willing mouth. A couple minutes later the man came into the bar, and I sent the owner back for his special payment for the use of an evening of his bar. He almost ran into the back room. "You all will get a turn, if you like," I said to those present. "Even young Mr. Thompson here! Have you ever had a blow job, young man?" He nodded his head from side. The bar owner and next our lawyer friend each took their turns in the back as the strippers returned to the bar for round two of removing their clothing. This time they were dressed in police outfits, complete with handcuffs. One, Ginger, walked over to Jim Thompson. "Excuse me, sir, are you letting your son get a blow job out back?" He nodded yes and smiled. She sat him in a chair and handcuffed his hands to the sides and put plastic restraints on his legs. "This will keep you here and leave your son to do what he will do, then," said the girl with a smile. Thompson sat with a smug look of a father watching his son excel at something. The boy followed the lawyer into the back room and soon his cock could be seen bouncing in the glory hole as some rock blasted from the nearby speakers. I had snuck into the back and turned on the second camera after starting the loud music, the one that showed the view from the side, and soon all at the bar could see Nancy Jean slipping a rubber onto the boy's cock. At first, Jim Thompson didn't understand what was going on, but when the second camera showed action from the side things changed. "Noooo!!!!" was his cry, as his son inserted his cock into the mouth of Jim Thompson's wife to be. Thompson's face reddened as he watched his future wife blow his son. If only the boy knew he was getting a blow job from his soon to be step mother. Now that would be a story for his friends. Good thing the music drowned out his father's cry. He attempted to get up, but with his legs and hands secured to the chair he could only turn his head away as Nancy Jean sucked his son's cock. The boy didn't last long, blasting his seed into my ex-wife's willing mouth with rapid spurts. Like me earlier, once finished, Nancy Jean lifted the condom in the air and let this sperm drip down into her mouth. "I'll kill you, you bastard," said Jim Thompson when he saw me. I nodded my head. "You might want to but I think you are a little tied up right now." "Calm down, Jim, everyone knows about Nancy Jean, it's not like she never did this before," said our lawyer friend. Apparently the vice principal did not know that the girl he was going to marry was addicted to cock. He apparently thought she was his own personal cock sucker now that she was divorced. Young Thompson came bounding into the room. "Yee hah!" yelled the boy, "that was incredible," He thank me, his father and everyone else in the room for letting him attend. He didn't even notice his father's dejected look or the ties that bound him. A procession of horny men visited the back room that night, some telling the girl to suck them bareback, others used a condom. Still others asked to jerk off on her face, which she willingly did, sitting and waiting for the blasts from the guys. After an hour I opened the back of the enclosure as Nancy Jean was sucking her 12th dick. "Just two more to go, unless you want seconds?" Her head nodded up and down the guys' cock, a gesture I assumed meant the more the merrier. I returned to the bar and asked if anyone wanted a second go round with my ex-wife. Only I didn't mention who she was. "Hey Jim," I asked, "do you want a blow job from the girl in the back?" If looks would kill, I'd have been dead as a doorknob. The man stared at me. "Aw, go ahead dad, she's a great cock sucker that girl is," said his unknowing son of his dad's girl friend. "I'll leave if it embarrasses you!" Young Thompson said he recognized the girl from somewhere. If only he knew his dad was seeing her on the side and she'd soon be his stepmother. Jim Thompson was beaten, but I swear he had a hard on. He looked at me, then at the burly guy standing beside me. I may be dumb, but I wasn't about to be a sitting duck if he went ballistic. Jim Thompson took a few deep breaths and then nodded to the back. "I need a blow job!" was all he said. "It's your turn next," I replied, making sure my bodyguard was between me and the back room. . Ginger unhitched him from his bindings, and the guy stood and strode to the back. We watched on the television screens as Nancy Jean swallowed some water while waiting for her next conquest. By this point she's been drenched in cum, and had swallowed at least a pint of the sticky sauce. We all saw a dick slip through the hole and soon Nancy Jean was munching another cock. Thompson showed no mercy. He rocked in and out of her mouth as she held on for dear life. Several times the cock popped free of her mouth but he didn't miss a stroke. He was rifling in and out of the hole on a mission, and Nancy Jean did her best to suck away with her wet, willing mouth. Soon Jim Thompson was blasting his seed through the hole. He pulled away at the last second and coated Nancy Jean's face. She took it all on the face and chin and then sucked him clean. It was so very erotic. We noticed after cleaning the cock she recoiled quickly. Apparently something was said by Jim Thompson the girl didn't like, and she quickly stood. As I arrived in the back room I head the back door slamming as apparently Thompson made his way out of the bar. Nancy Jean was leaving her cubbyhole, crying. She saw me and started swinging. "You bastard, you bastard" she cried, cum dripping down her face. It was priceless. Justice was served! Young Jim Thompson appeared. "Can I get another blow job now?" Nancy Jean's face reddened as the knowledge of being face to face with her future step son, a guy she had just minutes before sucked off. Her face was full with his father's cum sauce. "Wow, my dad left a load on you mam, how about I leave some more?" Nancy Jean turned to leave, looked at the two of us standing there, and gave a sly smile. "What's the harm in just one more?" Will the miracle or her addiction ever cease? 4514 1.72/512345

New Year's Revelation Ch. 2

Naked under the duvet, I lay with my arm round Janet's bare shoulders, her warm, soft palm cuddling my still semi-erect cock, and wondered how to get her to start revealing her hitherto unknown post-marital exploits - always assuming there were any, and that Charlie hadn't been the first to trespass on what I had always assumed was my exclusive territory. For the moment, I shrank from examining too closely the reasons why the thought of Janet, as my wife, being fondled by another man, was so much more stimulating than her adventures as a single girl - but there was no doubt that it was! As I allowed my memory to dwell on the recently-witnessed encounter with Hugh, my excitement grew almost unbearable and, as casually as I could, I removed Janet's hand from my hardening penis. The combination of my thoughts and her nimble fingers would inevitably lead to a premature climax, and I wanted at least one more story before that happened... "Jan," I murmured, my hand slipping down over her softly-rounded belly, into the thick cluster of hair above her thighs. "Mmmm," she replied, sleepily, and I panicked at the thought that she might be drifting off - without the post-marital barrier breached. She might feel entirely different in the morning, and pass it all off as just fantasy. "When was the first time - you know, after we were married?" She stirred, then sat up a little and, leaning on one elbow, looked down at me, a worried expression on her face. "Pete," she said, then stopped. After a moment, she tried again. "Look," she said, "I've never 'done it' with anyone else - you have to know that! I've never been unfaithful to you ? well, not completely... " "I know," I interrupted, "but you've... well, like with Charlie?" "Well, yes," she agreed. "Are you sure you want me to tell you - what will you think - later on - to-morrow morning?" "It'll be O. K. ," I insisted. "This is all separate - this is sex. I want to know you, sexually - in body and mind!" She fell silent, again, then relaxed on her pillow and looked up at the ceiling. "Do you remember that winter week we had in Spain - the second year we were married?" "Yes," I breathed, my hand stroking her smooth inner thigh. "Do you remember the waiter?" I thought back - it was all of ten years ago. I remembered we had had the same waiter at our table all week, but I could not recall his name, or anything else, much, about him. Then, suddenly, a picture of a young Spaniard - not more than eighteen - flashed into my mind - quite small and slight, with dark eyes and long black hair. What was his name? I nodded, anyway, anxious not to interrupt Janet, now she had started. "Young chap," I said, aware that I sounded patronising. Janet laughed, briefly. "Jaime," she said. "That was his name!" "Yes," I said, but I didn't think I had ever known the boy's name. "Well - he was really very sexy!" "Was he?" I said, in genuine surprise. I had hardly noticed him, and thought he was just a schoolboy earning some pocket-money. "Oh, yes," breathed Janet, reflectively. "When you weren't looking, he was always making eye-contact with me, then letting his eyes slide down - on to my body, then smiling and looking back into my eyes. And, often, he stood beside me while you were looking at the menu, looking down my blouse - and sometimes he brushed his - his - front - against my bare arm... " "You mean - his prick?" I asked, incredulously. She nodded. "Mmmmm", she said. "Was it hard?" "It was - every time he touched me. " I was really staggered by this - I hadn't had the faintest idea! I could hardly remember the guy at all, and all the time - all the time, what? "And did it - go any further?" I asked. "You remember we had a late flight home - at about one in the morning? And we went for a couple of hours sleep on the last afternoon?" "Well, not just a sleep," I laughed, the memory of that particular half-hour in our hotel room still very clear in my mind, not least because of the stunning contrast between the tanned and untanned areas of Janet's young, strong body... She laughed, softly, and gently stroked the underside of my prick. "With me - it wasn't even a sleep," Janet said. "You dropped off immediately, but I couldn't - I think I was too hot, maybe in more ways than one. " "Anyway, I decided to go down to the pool for a last sunbathe, so I put on my bikini and a toweling robe and left the room, quietly. I was standing by the lift when Jaime came down the stairs with a bundle of fresh towels under his arm. When he saw me, he stopped dead and just looked at me. He wasn't smiling - his face was very intense and his eyes seemed to be burning. Then he came down the last two steps and went over to the first door on that floor, and opened it, with a master key. And all the time, he never took his eyes off me. " "By the time he opened the door, I was trembling - then the lift arrived! The door opened - and I just stood still, looking back at Jaime. He didn't say a word - he didn't have to! His eyes said it all, and I just couldn't break his gaze and turn to go into the lift. Then I heard the lift doors slide shut, and Jaime held open the door of the room. " "I couldn't help it, Pete. I walked past him into the room and he shut the door behind us. I walked over to the window beside the balcony and looked out. He must have put the towels down, because I felt his hands on the shoulders of my robe, then his lips on the back of my neck. I shut my eyes and leaned back into him, and his hands came round and undid the belt at the front of the robe. " "Then he stood back a little and pulled the robe back, off my shoulders, and it fell to the carpet. I didn't move, and he closed in again, and his hands came up and gently squeezed my breasts. I moved my head round, and his lips came down on mine. " "We stood, kissing, for a while, then he gently eased me round until I was facing him, keeping his mouth on top of mine. By this time, both our mouths were open, and our tongues were exploring. " "Then I felt his hands untying my bikini top. I felt the strap give way, then he eased it over my shoulders, and caressed my bare back. Then he stood back, again, and reached out and pulled my top away. I didn't move ? I watched his eyes as they took in my bare breasts. His face was so young, and serious, and his eyes were very dark brown, and shining. " "Then he touched my breasts very gently with the tips of his fingers, just stroking my skin, until my nipples felt as if they were bursting! Then he bent down and just teased one nipple with his tongue - then when it was as hard as it could get, moved his mouth to the other one, and took the first one between his finger and thumb. " "Then he lifted his head away and took both my tits in his hands as he kissed me, again, on my mouth. The kiss lasted for ages, and his hands on my tits got more and more confident, until he was squeezing them really hard, and flicking my nipples back and forward. " "Then his body began to press against me, and I could feel his erection against my stomach. I pushed my hand down between us and held it in my palm, through his trousers. " "I could feel the knob against my hand and I pressed my fingers against the base, just above his balls. I started squeezing, then releasing, the base of his cock, then, suddenly, he groaned and I could feel his cock begin to throb. I gave it one more squeeze, and he started to shake and I began to feel his come as it soaked through his trousers. " "His hands tightened on my breasts and he buried his face in my neck as he jerked back and forward until, eventually, he went quiet and I put my arms round him for a few moments. Then I stepped back ? I was shaking like a leaf, but I managed to put my top back on, and my robe. I turned to go, but he said something and grabbed my hand. Then he bent and kissed my hand ? the way they do ? and I saw a huge dark stain on the front of his white trousers! I didn't know what to do, so I sort of blew him a kiss, and rushed back to our room!" "And woke me up!" I recalled ? and I did remember her hasty return! How would I have felt if I had known? "Would you rather I'd stayed with Jaime?" she laughed. "He had just about got his second wind when I made a run for it, and he'd have been looking for more than a feel of my tits second time around!" Her constant switching between shy reticence and almost coarse expression was stimulating in itself and, while I couldn't resist calling up a mental picture of the young Spaniard removing Janet's bikini bottom and spreading her thighs apart to receive his hard young cock very erotic, I realised that, in fact, I would find it hard to come to terms with the reality of its having happened. As it was, the picture of his hands and lips on her breasts became too much for me, and I groaned as Janet's skilled fingers brought me past the point of no return, and my stored-up seed gushed onto her waiting palm... From that point on, our sexual relationship blossomed as never before - it was even better than when we had first met. To me, Janet took on a whole new level of fascination. Whereas, before, her body - the curve of her breast, a twitch of her bottom, a glimpse of her thigh - had still caught my attention fairly frequently, my interest and excitement was rekindled to new heights as I gradually gained a unique insight into her sexual psyche, learning things I had never even suspected about her - and about women, generally. In the process, I was also learning about myself, and trying to come to terms with this strange fascination, almost amounting to a compulsion, for hearing about Janet's encounters with other men - especially the 'illicit' ones where she had been driven by her own urges to do something which, in the cold light of day, she would scarcely dream of doing. Her impulsive exhibitionism at the Birmingham hotel window had been the first example of this I had witnessed, but I had failed to recognise it for what it was. Now, I became aware of the stimulus she got from all sorts of apparently innocent displays, and the effect they had on the men who were lucky enough to witness them. She liked to see the effect, if possible, and would watch, surreptitiously, as she bent over too far in front of a male guest as she poured coffee or a drink for him, revealing a glimpse down a loose top into the deep valley between her breasts. Watching his eyes flicker away then, inexorably, back to the forbidden fruit, she would feel her nipples harden then, as soon as possible, would force the tips of her breasts against her blouse, so that the outline of the distended nipple was clearly delineated against the taut material. Once or twice, she confessed, she had left the room and removed her bra, then repeated the operation - but only when she really fancied the bloke, or, I was surprised to learn, didn't like his wife! I also realised that she was attracted to men like Hugh - brash, confident types who made no secret of their desires and who looked at her frankly, paying particular attention to the shape of her breasts and bottom. Once this dawned on me, I found it easier to trigger Janet into her reminiscences - the mention of a particular name could stimulate her memory - and not only that - into detailed recall. I knew, for example, that she had never liked Marion, a near neighbour who had moved away with her husband, Tim, some three and a half years ago. Of course, part of the reason for her dislike was that I was one of the few people Marion seemed to get on with - and, also, it had to be said, that she had pretty sensational tits, herself. Not that I ever got to touch them - I didn't think anyone other than Tim did - but she was difficult to look in the face when she was wearing a tight sweater, as she often did. In bed one night, I contrived, while we were discussing the mammary merits of female friends, past and present - for our conversations had now reached this new, and, to me, very stimulating, high, since I could always get Janet to describe those she had seen, once she was in the mood - to ask her if she had ever seen Marion stripped to the waist. She merely shook her head, then went quiet and, for a moment, I wondered if I had really touched a nerve. Then she said - "Haven't you?" "No!" I answered, with a regretful laugh. "Not a chance - I wouldn't have dared try!" Nor would I have. For all that she had a very sexy figure, Marion - a schoolteacher - was not the type you took liberties with. "You should have," responded Janet, seriously. "Oh?"- was all I could think of to say. "Oh, yes," responded Janet, her fingers slithering over my stomach to caress my cock. "Tell me," I murmured. "She and Tim were a lot more sexy - and adventurous - than any of us gave them credit for. They had a bet that she could get you to take her bra off before Tim got into mine! They were really into fantasy, you know - they had loads of books about sex, which suggested all sorts of things you could do to make it more exciting, without actually changing partners. " "Like what?" I asked. "Well - like we're doing now," Janet replied. "Telling each other about experiences they had had with other people, and making up imaginary situations with people they knew. People like us, and the other couples we knew then. They used to imagine things getting out of hand at those parties we used to go to - with wife-swapping, and so on - and, apparently, one of Marion's favourite fantasies was for you to pick up Tim's car-keys and take her off to a bedroom. " "And?" I asked playfully, my cock hardening in Janet's warm palm as my imagination ran riot, but she just laughed. "I think you can work that out for yourself," she chuckled. "Anyway, you missed the boat. " "Yeah, well, it was only fantasy," I said. "Mmmm," said Janet. "That bet wasn't, though!" "How do you know?" I asked - in all innocence - puzzled that Marion would have confided such a thing to Janet. And then, as a possible solution dawned on me, my mouth dried and Janet chuckled, quietly, as the sudden hardening of my penis in her hand betrayed my train of thought. "Was it - Tim - who told you?" I asked, my hand straying, involuntarily, to the firm warmth of Janet's left breast. She buried her head in my neck and murmured - "Mmhhmm. " "Because he - won the bet?" I whispered, hoarsely, my heart beating like a triphammer. She said nothing, but I could feel the movement on my collarbone as her head nodded in agreement. Her fingers closed round my erection and her teeth nibbled my ear. Then she moved her head and looked up at me. "Do you want me to tell you?" she breathed. I took a deep, shaky breath and nodded. Janet removed her hand from my cock and lay back on the pillow. Her nightdress was up round her shoulders, and she did not adjust it. She wore nothing else, and she slipped her right hand down to cover her pubic area. Her middle finger slid between her thighs and began to move, gently. "I went round to their house one day, in the middle of the week, to deliver Marion's Avon stuff. It was a beautiful summer day and I walked round, with John in the pram. It was during the school holidays, so I thought Marion would be home, alone, and Tim would be at work. Well, when I got there, Tim was in bed, with 'flu, and Marion was just about to go out to meet her mother in the city. " "She was quite short with me, I remember. She just took her Avon, paid for it, then shot off in her car, leaving me to see myself out. She was leaving the door unlocked, anyway, because Tim was there. Well, as I was leaving, I suddenly thought I'd pop up and see Tim, and see if I could get him anything. " "So I ran up the stairs and called to him as I got to the landing. He called back - "In here, Janet" - in a pathetic, muffled sort of voice, and I went into the bedroom. Well, he was in a real mess. He hadn't shaved for days, his hair was all matted and sweaty and sticking up, and the bedroom stank of stale sweat. He had obviously had a fever, and there wasn't a window open in the place. " "He tried to sit up and make himself a bit tidier for me, but he couldn't do much. The bedroom curtains were drawn and there was very little natural light in the place. The contrast with the day outside was very marked - and also between him and me! I had had a bath before I came out, then a cold shower, and I was wearing my yellow summer dress. It actually took a few seconds to get used to the darkness in the room, after being outside. " "Anyway, I sat on the end of the bed and asked how he was feeling and if I could get him a cup of tea, or something. I could see he was embarrassed at being caught like this - you know how fussy he was about his appearance - but he was doing his best to be bright and cheerful, under the circumstances. Anyway, I offered to make a cup of tea and went down to the kitchen to make it. " Janet went quiet and began to chew her lower lip, lightly. Her eyes were closed, and her middle finger was no longer visible between her thighs, which were clamped together. I reached over and gently brushed a finger against her nipple. Her eyes fluttered open and she smiled up at me, reaching her spare hand up to her other breast. "While I was downstairs," she said, " I popped out to check on John, in his pram, and it was just then that it dawned on me that we were alone in the house together - Tim and I. What I mean is - I knew we were alone, but I hadn't thought about it - that way. You know?" 'Also, the whole situation, which should have been a complete turn-off, was having exactly the opposite effect on me! Tim being sweaty, unshaven and, frankly, dirty - the smelly room compared with the bright fresh day outside. " "Also, I had heard a bit of a scramble just before I went into the bedroom and thought it was just Tim, tidying up, but, as I left to go downstairs, I saw a corner of a magazine poking out from under the pillow. I couldn't tell what it was, but I had a pretty good idea, and the thought that, if I hadn't called out, I might have walked in on him masturbating gave me a very strange feeling. " "I was thinking about all this while I was waiting for the kettle to boil and I kept visualising Tim, all filthy and sweaty, with his cock in his hand, pumping it up and down and looking at these pictures of girls and reading these stories. Then I imagined him bending at the middle as he started to come and catching it all in a Kleenex... " "By the time the kettle boiled, I was really shaking and excited, and I suppose - well, I was hoping something might be going to happen. But I had no idea what. My mind was racing. I just got on, automatically, with making tea and setting out cups and things on a tray and I didn't dare think seriously about anything happening, or what I would do, if it did. When everything was ready, I just picked up the tray and set off upstairs without hesitating. I made as much noise as I could, so that Tim would know I was coming - I suppose I thought he might be wanking again and I suppose, deep down, I was terrified of catching him at it... " "But only because I wouldn't know how to react," Janet added, in a small voice, after a few seconds' hesitation, then laughed, shakily. "Anyway, when I got into the room, Tim was sitting up, arms folded... " "What was he wearing?" I interrupted. "Oh, pyjamas - top and bottom - stripy things, all creased and crumpled. But he had tidied up round the bed - and the magazine had disappeared. I started looking for somewhere to put the tray down, but there wasn't anywhere! Tim was in the spare bedroom and there was no room for anything but a bed in there. So he moved his legs, under the bedclothes, and made a space on the bed for the tray. It was when I was putting the tray down, carefully, that I saw the bulge under the bedclothes. There was only a sheet and a light coverlet on the bed, and there was only one thing that could have caused that shape in them!" 5371 1.96/512345