Things have gotten a little out of hand. I suppose my mistake was agreeing to
the wager in the first place. On the other hand, if I had won.... Oh, well, my
turn will come. It all started with a playful game of scrabble. My wife Linda
and I (my name's Peter) have been happily married for 8 years, and are in our
mid 30's. We live what most would call a middle class life (I hate the word
yuppie; sounds too much like guppy), although both of us went through a wild
time during the 70's. Linda is a fine looking brunette, 5'3", with a slim build
and pert, conical breasts. She has that innocent, child-like face that turns men
on like crazy. Although she's not prudish, she is demure and shy around
strangers. Our sex life has been great over the past years, and we've tried the
usual things like fucking in strange places, light b&d, renting porno videos,
etc. Lately, though, things have simmered down to a slow burn, rather than the
raging flames of newlyweds. On the night in question, I was feeling a bit randy
and, after watching Dan Rather blather on about Haiti or some such fucking
place, I suggested a game of scrabble. As Linda returned with the game and began
to arrange it on the living room floor, I had a sudden idea. "Let's play for
stakes," I said, sitting down on the floor across from her. "What do you mean?"
she asked. I shrugged. "Let's say the winner gets to choose a fantasy and the
loser has to act it out." Linda looked up at me slyly. "I see. And I don't
suppose you've got anything particular in mind, do you?" "Actually, I've got
quite a few ideas...," I said, looking up coyly at the ceiling. "Remember,
though, it could be anything at all, and you'd have to go along with it. You
know I love you, babe, and you'd have to trust me. There are some REALLY
outrageous stuff floating around in my perverted brain!" "Well, first of all,
you haven't won YET, Mr. Perverted Brain. And second of all, you're on. Just
remember your words and our agreement after the game is over. You have a very
convenient memory sometimes, you know." I grabbed us each a glass of Chardonnay,
and we started the game. An hour later, with the game up in the air, my sexy
little wife slowly spelled out the word "xiphosuran." "Jesus Christ!" I said,
scratching my head. "What the fuck is that shit?" The best I'd done was
"fruitcake." Linda looked at me with her deep green eyes. Her tongue darted out
and slowly licked the rim of her wine glass. I'll be damned, but I couldn't read
her! If I didn't challenge it, she'd win. "Okay, I'm getting the Webster's out
on this one." I grabbed the dictionary and flipped to the x's. "...any of an
order (Xiphosuran) of arthropods comprising the king crabs and extinct related
forms..." "You're a ringer, you know that? How in the hell....?" Linda crawled
behind me and wrapped her legs around my waist. Her cool hands went around me
under my sweatshirt and gently tweaked my nipples. Her breath was warm as she
whispered in my ear. "I memorized about 50 of them since the last time we played
and you won." "Not only beautiful, smart and sexy, but competitive as hell!" I
said. "Okay, you won. So what does this mean in practical terms? What's it going
to be?" I could feel her shrugging behind me, her nipples gently brushing my
back. I was getting an anticipatory hard-on even as I felt a brief twinge of
apprehension. (Quite prescient, as it turns out) Linda stood up and removed my
t-shirt she uses as a nightie. Wearing only her skimpy white cotton panties, she
pushed the game away and knelt down in front of me. Taking my hands, she gently
placed them on her soft breasts. The cool air had already made her nipples erect
and they pressed into the center of my palms. She cupped both her hands around
my face and looked me in the eyes. "I know exactly what I want. But I want to
make very sure we are absolutely clear about things. First, YOU are going to
have to trust ME, and know that I love you very much and will always love you
and be your wife. This is going to be an enactment of a fantasy, nothing more.
Without that foundation of trust and love, I would not attempt anything remotely
resembling what I have in mind. Do you understand this?" I swallowed slowly and
nodded. My erection was gone. There was a buzzing in my ears and my heart raced.
"Second, there will be no going back once it begins. When it is finished, you
may have a turn, and I fully intend to do ANYTHING you want. I expect and
believe that I will have the same commitment from you for my fantasy. Do you
agree?" Once again I nodded. "And when will I learn exactly what this fantasy
is?" Linda smiled wickedly. "In good time. You'll be told when you have a need
to know. Don't worry. You're going to be very much a part of it. In fact, I
think it's going to turn you on like you've never been turned on before. I know
it will me. Just remember that you wanted the outrageous. Some of the most
outrageously erotic things are psychological, though." She laughed. "Not to
worry. It'll be plenty raunchy." We fucked like rabbits that night. You know,
one of those sessions when there's no more cum in your balls, but your dick just
keeps getting hard again and again. When 3 a.m. hit, Linda's cunt was so sore,
she gently suggested sleep, and I gave in. Tired and fucked out as I was, I
couldn't sleep. My whole perspective on life had changed. It's hard to describe
the feeling, but the closest I can come is a mixture of excitement you can
almost taste, tinged with a strange anxiety and foreboding. I looked at the
clock. Tuesday morning, 4 a.m. I had to get up at 7 to make it to work. I put my
hand on Linda's soft black hair and gently stroked it. She slept like a babe in
arms. Okay, I thought. I'm ready for whatever comes.
The rest of the week went by quickly enough. By Friday, I had almost forgotten
about the whole thing. Linda and I had planned to go out to dinner to a small
Italian place and hit a movie afterward. I got home, as usual, about 6:30 p.m.
and noticed that Linda's monkey-shit brown Honda was not in the garage. She was
usually home from work by 4:30. Stepping into the foyer, I saw an envelope with
my name on it taped to the banister. I quickly tore it open and began to read:
My Fantasy Part I Hi, sweetheart! Sorry I had to break our date tonight. The
fact is, I'm going out with someone else. And yes, it's a man. Read this to the
end before you have a heart attack. Oh, and by the way, this is only the first
of a multi-part fantasy. Things are going to heat up, darling. (Just you
remember our agreement) I. There's some frozen lasagna in the freezer you can
heat in the microwave, and a fresh Caesar salad I made up in the fridge. Help
yourself and be sure to rinse the dishes off before you put them in the
dishwasher. You are not to go out tonight, period. Understood? II. I will not
tell you his name. I met him through work a few months ago, and only initiated
this AFTER your appropriate loss at scrabble. He's about 6'2", brown hair, grey
eyes, very "jock" looking, if you know what I mean. He's fairly bright, but not
as smart as you . He knows I'm married, but thinks you're "away." III. I
don't know when I'll be home. It could be early, or it could be quite late,
depending on how things go..... IV. Before you go to bed (and I want you in bed
early, and rested, for when I get home...) I want you to imagine, in great
detail, all of the following: I want you to imagine your pretty wife, dressed in
my white silk blouse with the high collar and no bras, the black skirt that hugs
my ass the way you like and the red "tong" panties you bought me for our
anniversary underneath, and the black pumps that drive you crazy, sitting in a
cozy restaurant and flirting with a handsome stud across from me. I want you to
imagine us at a nightclub afterwards, dancing. (No, I won't tell you where we're
going). Imagine all the things that can happen between two horny people when the
lights are low and the beat of the music is deep and sexy. I want you to imagine
the effects of the drinks, and the slow dancing, and the sensual music. Imagine
where his hands will go, and the things I might whisper in his ear. Most of all,
I want you to imagine us ending up at HIS place (but only, of course, after a
respectable, but ineffective, attempt to say no). Imagine all the things that
might follow. Imagine your petite wife kneeling on his living room floor and
slowly, almost reverently, sucking his huge cock into her mouth. Imagine him
gently pulling a strand of hair from her forehead as she gazes up unblinkingly
into his eyes and mouths the tip of his cock. Imagine her on the floor on her
back, naked except for her pumps, with her ankles on both sides of this strange
man's neck, his cock pumping like a piston into the cute little bottom you've
fucked so often. Imagine her on all fours like a dog, mounted. Imagine the
excitement of the man, the thrill of taking a woman who belongs to another man.
The knowledge that, for that brief time, HE owns her. He owns her tits, her
mouth, her cunt and her ass. She belongs to him, now, however briefly. Finally,
imagine the woman coming home to the husband. Imagine her crawling into bed
having been ravaged and fucked for hours, with another man's sperm still
dripping from her cunt like honey, and telling her loving husband every detail.
Imagine the voyeuristic pleasure, a pleasure made all the more intense by the
delay of not knowing what has happened. And imagine the husband fucking his
loving, pretty little wife like a bull..... V. I expect you to imagine these
things, or similar things, but you will not masturbate. Is that clear? I will
take care of things when I get home, if you know what I mean. Remember, tonight
is only the beginning of quite a little adventure I have in store for you. Be
good. There's lot's more fun to come. Your Naughty Wife, Linda I tossed the
letter on the floor and ran up the stairs to the bathroom off our master
bedroom. I pulled open the second drawer of Linda's vanity. Sure enough, her
diaphragm and the tube of spermicide were gone. I quickly showered and changed
clothes. Popping the lasagna into the microwave, I sat down at the dining room
table and tried to compose myself. I had a raging hard-on. My heart raced like
an engine and my palms were cold and sweaty. I couldn't believe I was so horny.
I hadn't felt this kind of excitement since I was 16 years old and sitting in
the back of my '67 Nova with Susan Pelizzero's left nipple firmly in my mouth. I
wanted to analyze all the conflicting emotions, but knew now was not the time.
God, a thousand images were racing through my mind. I could already see Linda,
sweet and sexy Linda, my Linda, my wife, pressed up close to some strange man.
What would they be saying and thinking? What were they doing now? I grinned. My
wife sure knew how to push my buttons. The microwave timer suddenly went off. I
settled down to supper and to one of the longest, most anticipatory waits of my
life. I waited for my wife to get fucked and come home. 10:00 p.m. and waiting.
Waiting, waiting, waiting... They were probably done with dinner by now and
maybe even out on the dance floor. Every 10 or 15 minutes I found myself looking
at my watch and conjuring up new images, new snippets of conversation... Were
they talking about me? What exactly was Linda telling him about our
relationship, our marriage? Whatever the details, I just knew it centered on
sex. I'd successfully fought off the urge to masturbate. Right now, though, I
decided to change my underwear. After repeated tumescence, they were sticky with
pre-cum. God, this was the weirdest conglomeration of competing emotions I'd
ever felt. One moment I felt like jumping in my car and hitting the nightspots
to look for them. I had no idea what I'd do if I found them, however. Probably
just watch them discreetly from a distance. Every once in a while a wave of
anger and jealousy would roll over me, though, and I'd fantasize about marching
up and confronting them. Those feelings would slowly melt away and be replaced
by a very profound lust. One side put an edge on the other and made each emotion
sharper and more defined; more REAL than feelings I'd had in a long time. In the
back of my brain, a part of my mind started to wonder, just wonder mind you,
about the source and intensity of the turn- on. In our bondage games, Linda was
always the submissive. Submission had never been a part of my erotic dreams or
fantasies. Was it possible that, in allowing this to happen, I was indirectly
submitting to both Linda and her date? Or even further, that I was somehow
submitting directly to HIM, with her as the intermediary or offering if you
will? Were there, god forbid, homosexual undertones here? You know, like
subconsciously making love to him through my wife? Okay, I'll admit, since I'm
being perfectly frank here, that on a couple occasions I'd fantasized about
sucking cock. (I'm STRAIGHT, alright!?) I hadn't gone very far with that
particular masturbatory thread, though, and it had been quite a few years ago.
I'm not going to posture and spout any of that homophobic shit. I despise it.
But, on the other hand, I've never gotten an erection looking at naked men. Just
the opposite. It's the quickest way I know to get rid of one. 10:05. Well,
time's just flying by and I've come up with a ream of insights into this whole
thing. Jesus, sometimes my lack of self-awareness scares even me. I grabbed the
latest copy of Time magazine and lay down on the couch in my den and tried to
read, every once in a while rubbing my throbbing, painfully hard cock with the
heel of my palm. I looked over at the clock on my desk. 10:10. Next to the clock
was a picture of Linda taken a few years ago by a photographer friend. An
"artsy" black and white of just her face and her long black hair cascading over
her shoulder. Whenever I look at Linda for a long time and have to describe her,
the best I can come up with is a "fawn." Everyone we meet say she reminds them
of Audrey Hepburn (no, it's before my time, but I HAVE seen her movies). I know
I'm a pretty lucky guy to be married to her. In my mind's eye, the picture
transformed from a demure smile to one of lust. Open mouth, head thrown back,
sweat dripping, eyes unfocused........ I woke with a start and immediately
checked out my new friend, the clock. 2:30 a.m. I stumbled up, made sure the
porch and entrance light were on, then went upstairs. Taking my clothes off, I
climbed into bed and collapsed. Pornographic visions danced in my brain. I heard
a noise and jerked up on my elbow. I was fully awake in an instant. Pretty
shallow sleep, I guess. Footsteps coming up the stairway. I glanced at the alarm
clock. 4:30 a.m. I lay back down, feigning sleep, but with a good enough angle
to see out of the corner of my eye. Linda came around the corner and stopped at
the bathroom entrance. She looked my way for a brief moment. Her hair was up
(the way she wears it when she "can't do anything with it"). She went in the
bathroom and closed the door. The water ran for what seemed like an eternity.
The door opened and I closed my eyes. I felt the bed move as she sat next to me
and her hand rested on my shoulder. "Peter?" I opened my eyes and looked up at
her. "Hi," I managed. "What time is it?" "Late, darling." She stroked my
forehead and climbed in next to me. She was still fully clothed. Neither Linda
nor I smoked, but I could smell the odor of stale cigarettes in her hair. I
wondered what "his" brand was. Suddenly, her hand went down under the covers and
grabbed my iron-hard cock. The coolness of her hand was electrifying. "Are you
mad at me, darling?" she asked quietly. "Hell no," I said with a grin. "But I
will be if you don't spit out every detail of what happened." Reassured, she
snuggled in closer and I pulled the blanket over both of us. Suddenly, while
rhythmically pumping my cock, she leaned over and kissed me full on the mouth. I
returned it with passion. It was all wet and tongue and she tasted of sex and
wine. "You're missing an ear-ring," I said when she pulled back. "Oh, shit!" she
said grabbing at her naked earlobe. "So?" I said, raising my eyebrows. She
looked at me with a gleam in her eye. "Well, I'm afraid I've been a naughty girl
tonight." I ran my hand down her back and over her thighs and buttocks. No
underwear. "They got a little messy, so I had to get rid of them," she grimaced.
As she stroked my erection, the following story emerged:
Linda had met him at the restaurant for cocktails and a light supper. They'd
talked mostly about work at first, but the conversation had inevitably led to
his ex-wife and to me. She'd flirted relentlessly with him, firing off a long
series of innuendos and suggestions. He'd been fast on the uptake and quickly
responded in kind. She noticed that his eyes kept wandering to her nipples that
were nicely outlined by her silk blouse. After dinner, they'd driven in separate
cars to a small club on the west side. They started dancing, and he'd been a
gentleman at first, but after Linda had started rubbing the upper part of her
hip against his groin, things got a bit more raunchy. "God, that feels pretty
nice." she'd whispered in his ear after letting her hand drop down between them
and into his crotch. The rubbing and grinding had gotten a little too hot, and
they'd gone back to the table. At one point, near closing time, and Linda
herself can hardly believe she did this, she had reached under the table and
under her skirt. Pulling her panties aside, she'd pushed her middle finger deep
into her soaking cunt. Bringing it out, she'd put it to his lips and let him
lick it clean, all the while keeping their eyes locked. They left his car in the
parking lot and took hers to his apartment. She had asked him to drive and as
they made their way to his place, had reached over, unzipped his pants and
pulled his cock out. Leaning over, she had swirled her tongue around the tip to
savored the taste of his pre-cum. "Do you suck your husband's cock like this?"
he had asked distractedly, trying to concentrate on the road. Her mouth full, my
wife didn't answer. It was at this point that I exploded all over Linda's hand
and my belly. My cock now well lubricated with gobs of sticky cum, she continued
to stroke it slowly. As she went on with the story, I was very quickly hard
again. Once inside his apartment, his whole personality had changed. The
"gentleman" was gone. He had forced her onto her knees, unzipped his pants and,
looming over her, pulled his erect penis out. She reached up to take it in her
slender hands, but he had pushed them away. "Just suck it. Use your mouth. You
don't need your hands." She had tried the best she could, but although he was
about my length, he had been much thicker around. She had worked her mouth over
the bulging crown and gotten it to the back of her throat and had started
working her tongue and lips when, suddenly, he had tensed and actually started
coming! She hadn't expected it so soon, had gagged, and a lot of it had dribbled
from the corner of her stretched lips. (I had noticed some suspicious stains
down the front of her blouse). She had done her best to swallow what she could
manage. It had been slightly sweet with a hint, she could have sworn, of
almonds, rather than the "salt-water" taste of mine. "Your husband has a very
nice little cock-sucker for a wife. I hope he appreciates you," he had said,
while wiping the few dribbles of cum from his cock that Linda had missed. They
had sat on the couch and talked for a few minutes, and he was soon very hard
indeed again. He had taken his pants and shorts off. He stood my wife up in
front of his couch and made her bend over at the waist with her arms on the back
and her feet spread as wide as she could manage. He had hiked her dress up over
her waist and pulled her panties off. His big cock had entered her from behind
with little resistance. She described the fuck as brutal and hard. (While the
words said one thing, the dreamy inflection of her voice told her real
experience of it). He had reached around with one hand and forced his three
middle fingers into her mouth, holding her tongue and lower jaw between the
fingers and his thumb. While it hadn't been painful, Linda described it as a
very dominant and sexy action. The other hand had been busily changing between
working her clit and squeezing her small breasts. As he fucked deep into my
wife, and while holding her violated mouth open, he had whispered in her ear.
"This is for your husband. And this, pretty little cunt, is for you," he
whispered as he banged even harder into her hole. The fuck had been long and
hard. She had come 4 or five times, she couldn't remember, and her legs were
almost giving out when he finally came and sprayed her cunt with semen. They
didn't talk much after that. He'd offered to let her spend the night, but she
had declined. After cleaning up as best she could, she had driven straight home.
I reached over and pulled her black skirt up. She scooted underneath me and
spread her legs wide. Even in the semi-light of our bedroom, I could see that
the lips of her pussy were red and swollen. "It's okay, darling. It's a little
sensitive down there, but if you take it easy on me at first, it won't be a
problem," she said. She was probably the "loosest" and wettest I'd ever
experienced in 8 years of marriage, and even though I knew my cock was sliding
in my wife's juices mixed with a stranger's spunk, I didn't care a bit. As I
pumped her slowly and lovingly, our eyes locked. Before I came again, and
somewhere in the back of my mind, I remembered that this was only the first
"part" of her fantasy and, supposedly, the tamest part. God help me. For several
weeks, our life went on pretty much as normal. Linda had resisted my attempts to
have HIM identified. My feelings had been a little hurt since I felt that her
reticence implied that I somehow could not be trusted to let the incident drop.
I think I could have gotten her to tell me if I had been more persistent, but I
had suddenly realized that his anonymity contributed to the eroticism of the
fantasy for me, and I stopped pushing the issue. As for Linda, it took a few
days for me to fully convince her that not only was everything alright between
us, but that I had immensely enjoyed the game. She had offered to stop now
rather than risk any problems between us, but I had reassured her that it had
been a tremendous turn-on for me. Our mutual understanding was that there had
been no loving at all, only sex, between them. I told her that I was ready for
"part two." Grinning, she had squeezed my buttocks, winked, and said, "You think
so, huh?" Jeez! On a Thursday night, about three weeks after the "fling," as we
euphemistically referred to it, Linda was washing some pots and pans while I
dried. I wrapped my arms around her from behind, pressed her up against the
sink, and gently began to move my hips and groin against her bottom. As ever,
she pushed her buttocks back against me and followed my rolling, grinding motion
(I believe that kitchens were created by god for this particular kind of play.
The preparation of food, etc., is only a secondary function). "I need you to
stop at the store on your way home from work tomorrow," she said. "Sure. What do
we need?" My cock was rigid and rubbing firmly in the crack of her ass. I had
stopped moving, but she had continued the motion, rising on her toes and then
slowly settling down. I cupped her breasts from the outside of her t-shirt. "A
bag of cotton balls, some masking tape and a few other odds and ends," she said
matter-of-factly. My ears suddenly pricked up. It was not lost on me that the
"fling" had happened on a Friday. Three weeks ago to the day, in fact. But
cotton balls and masking tape? Bondage....? We already had a small stash of
"restraining" toys. Hmmm. Interesting. I turned her around and held her by her
shoulders. "This wouldn't have anything to do with a little surprise you might
have in store for me tomorrow, would it?" I asked. "Darling, if I told you the
truth, you wouldn't get a good night's sleep. You're like a child on Christmas
Eve." She was right. I didn't.
I didn't accomplish a damn thing at work on Friday. I had butterflies in my
stomach for most of the day. I left a little early (boss' prerogative), and made
it home by 6:15 after stopping for the "items" needed. Linda's car was in the
driveway. So she was home this time. Opening the front door, I stepped in and
looked around. The house was immaculate. Since Linda and I were both
professionals and had little time for housework, we employed a cleaning service
during the week. But when she did have the time, Linda was meticulous in her
work. This was her doing. There was a gorgeous flower arrangement on the living
room mantle and a roaring fire below. Linda stepped around the corner and
smiled. She took my breath away. She wore a full length powder-blue evening
dress that was dangerously low-cut, her best pearl necklace, heels and a pretty
white bow in her hair. She ran and hugged me like we hadn't seen each other in a
month. We kissed like newlyweds. "Hi, sexy!" she said with a grin. "Darling, I'm
absolutely stunned. You've outdone yourself. "Well, it did take a little work.
I'll take that bag. Everything's here?" "Everything you ordered." "Dinner will
be ready by the time you finish showering. Don't dress up when you're done. Wear
your normal slob-ish attire." I grinned. "As opposed to YOUR normal, slob-ish
attire?" I asked, taking another look at my gorgeous wife. "Just do as you're
told tonight, Peter. Be a good boy." She hugged me again, and whispered "I love
you" in my ear. "I love you, too." I said, and went up to shower. I quickly
showered, put on a pair of corduroy slacks, a sweater and my loafers. We dined
on poached salmon with dill sauce accompanied by an extra-fine German white.
Dessert was a simple bowl of chilled, fresh raspberries in cream. I poured
myself a brandy, and we moved to the living room. I settled on the couch and
began to sip the 50 year old liqueur. Linda sat on the floor between my feet
with her legs curled up under her. "Well," I said. "I'm coming to appreciate
your fantasies more each time." "I'm glad, sweetheart. There's a bit more to
come, though. You may want to withhold judgment until the end of the night." The
brandy's golden burn in my throat and stomach had begun to relax every muscle in
my body. I felt ready for anything. "We need to talk, dear," she said suddenly.
Uh-oh. "You do remember our understanding and agreement, don't you? This is my
fantasy, and I expect you to cooperate in every way." She moved up to her knees
to look into my eyes. "Whatever happens, remember that I love you, and ONLY
you," she said slowly, those emerald green eyes boring into my soul. "Remember
to relax, to let things play out. Most of all, you must do as you're told. Do
you understand and agree?" Here come the butterflies. "Yes, babe. This is your
night. Let's be decadent and naughty," I said, holding her hands in mine. She
looked searchingly into my eyes for a long time. I think she found the trust
that was there and that she was looking for, because she smiled, rose and kissed
me on the forehead. "Don't move. I'll be right back." she said lightly. She
returned a moment later with a blindfold, the cotton, and the tape. "You're not
going to be able to see anything that happens tonight. I know how visually
stimulated you are. I'm sorry, but I'm hoping that, if things work out like I
think they will, you won't miss your eye-sight." She placed the cotton gently
over my eyes, then the blindfold. The cotton cut off that little area just under
my eyes along the bridge of my nose that I had always been able to peek through
before. The tape held the blindfold and cotton firmly in place. "Your brandy
snifter is full. Relax and enjoy it. Let me know if you need a visit to the
restroom, and I'll help you." She snickered. "Things should begin in about 10
minutes, as soon as our guests arrive." "Guests? Did you say guests? I'm sure I
distinctly heard you say 'guests.'" "That's right. Guests. You know, like in
visitors. Now relax. Gee, I wonder what's going to happen?" I grinned. "You are
the naughtiest, most conniving little tease!" The "guests" must have been early,
because the doorbell rang. Linda leaned down and whispered, "Enjoy, babe.
Remember that I'm still your wife tomorrow and after." I heard her move to the
door and open it. Muffled voices. Footsteps. Two pair? Three? Movement around
me. Other noises. Then quiet. A cough. A male cough. Thank God for the brandy! I
felt amazingly comfortable considering I was sitting blindfolded in front of
total stranger(s) in my own home. "Good evening, Peter. It's a pleasure to meet
you, although these are somewhat interesting circumstances. My name is William."
His voice was very deep. It had that self-assured quality I associate with my
peers who have, and are used to wielding, power. "I've had the pleasure of
meeting your wife once before, but I can assure you it was a purely friendly
meeting. In fact, it was to arrange this little get together. By the way, there
are four people in this room. You, your wife, myself and my wife. My wife's name
is Breigha. While it makes little difference what my profession is, I can tell
you that my wife is a very good photographer, and that she has all of her
equipment here tonight." "The details of how and why your wife contacted us are
also of little relevance. I assume Linda will answer all your questions at a
later time." "So. Where to begin? I am here at your wife's bequest. It appears
that we are going to get somewhat friendly and intimate over the next few hours.
I understand that you will cooperate and do as you're told. I appreciate that
and will expect it from you and from Linda. Our first ground rule is that
no-one, other than myself, will speak in this room unless spoken to first. Do we
have agreement?" I nodded. I heard Linda say "yes." "Good. Your wife has
determined the general outline of what will happen tonight. I have a very deep
appreciation for her imagination, as well as for her good looks and
intelligence. You're a lucky man, Peter. What she has not determined, however,
are the many details that, as I'm sure you realize being the professional you
are, make all the difference. In that respect, she will be as much in the dark,
so to speak, as you." Ha. Funny. "Good. The "general outline" is as follows.
First, everything that takes place will be photographed by my wife in great
detail for your and Linda's viewing pleasure down the years, although I would
suggest keeping it out of the family album." The guy was a riot. "That is the
extent of my wife's participation. Second, I am going to make love to your wife,
Peter. It will be an honor and a pleasure, I assure you. Your job, tonight, is
to assist me. Not to participate, per se, but to make Linda more "available,"
more "easily accessible," shall we say. Things will become clearer, I promise. I
must tell you that although I consider myself bisexual, there will be no direct
sexual activity, as such, between you and I. At least hardly any." Right. THAT
statement took the ambiguous prize. "Thirdly, your wife has requested that I use
graphic and explicit language. She is, as many people are, aroused by it. But
you know that. I only mention it so that you aren't shocked." "Finally, Linda
here has pretty much given me free reign as far as the kinds of pleasantries we
will indulge in. 'Anything goes,' I believe were your words, yes?" "Yes," I
heard Linda say. Her voice had a quiver in it. "I'm glad. I think I'm going to
enjoy this as much as you and Peter. We all understand, then, that this is
purely a little sexual adventure for everyone. That afterward, my wife and I
return to our world, and both of you to yours. I do not expect either of you to
ever contact us again. Although that may be a shame, it's necessary. On a final
note before we begin, I have to tell you that I have rarely met a woman more in
love with her husband than Linda is with you. Did you know that, Peter? How much
she loves you?" I nodded, a little embarrassed and not knowing if anyone was
even looking at me. "All right. Breigha, darling, you may begin setting up.
Linda, would you be so kind as to fetch me a glass of scotch? Just a little ice,
please. Thank you. Are you comfortable, Peter?" "I'm okay," I mumbled. I could
feel the heat from the fireplace as various sounds I interpreted as "camera
setting up" noises came from the other side of the living room. I had heard
Linda pick up my empty snifter beside me and, as she passed by, she had put her
hand on mine for the briefest of moments. The alcohol put me in a mellow haze,
made time slow down, and made the acceptance of what was about to happen much
easier than if I had not been drinking. Well, I thought, drop your socks and
grab your .... Here we go on another lovely little roller-coaster ride. I heard
Linda's footsteps as she returned with William's Scotch. I was seated on the
couch, apparently alone. From the sound of his voice, I knew William and his
wife were sitting to the left of the fireplace in our loveseat. Linda's
footsteps crossed back in front of me and stopped. Her hand took my wrist and
gently placed a full snifter in my hand. I heard her move to my right and seat
herself in a high-back chair facing the center of the room. The couch I sat on
was thus in the center, facing the fireplace. The only sound for a minute or two
was the crackling the burning logs. The blindfold, at least so far, was
reasonably comfortable. "I often think," William suddenly began, "that we are
too much the creatures of our eyes; our other senses are just handmaidens to
vision and are given the rump-end by our brain of the world's myriad textures
and infinite contours. I daresay many people would think nothing of taking their
lives rather than facing the world without sight. They rely on it like they rely
on the sun rising every day. They do not appreciate the more fecund "reality" of
hearing, touch, taste and smell which are more in tune with the night than the
day." "Let us take your beautiful wife, Linda, for an example. Linda, please
stand in front of the fireplace for us. Yes, thank you. Now, Breigha and I see
her quite clearly. You, of course, cannot. Let me describe what I see: I see a
woman surrounded by a halo of shifting yellow, orange and blue light from the
fire. I see a shiny stream of black hair on falling on her shoulders and
outlining a face of beauty. High cheekbones, rosy cheeks, sparkling healthy
eyes, clear, open and wide, looking at you, Peter. I see a pert nose, and full
lips that are moist. From her thin neck, her small shoulders widen. She holds
them back in a posture of self-assurance. This is a woman not to be taken
lightly, Peter, as you are surely aware." "I see her chest rising and falling
slowly, small breasts straining against the soft fabric of her dress. The
breasts, one might almost think, of a young girl. Even from this distance, and
in this light, one can make out the little points of her nipples, stiffened and
alive." I shifted uncomfortably. I was now beginning to get quite turned on.
"While it could be the fact that it is ever so slightly cool in this room, and
the fire is to her back accentuating the difference in temperature, I would
attribute your wife's erect nipples to arousal and to the fact that she knows
that I am going to fuck her. No, please Linda, leave your arms at your sides.
That's better. Now, Peter, please tell me. Can you see what I have described?
Can you see your wife displayed before the three of us in your mind's eye?" I
could. I could see her as if the blindfold were gone. As if my eyes were fully
open and unblinking. "Yes," I said. "Your point?" "Simply that perception of the
world can be clear, convincing and real whether it comes to us through the eyes,
the ears, or some other way. A case in point: a man hears his wife describe her
infidelity in graphic detail. She describes an illicit sexual encounter she
entered into for the purpose of his and her sexual arousal. Do you honestly
believe that had he been there and actually watched, the intensity of the
perception of the infidelity would have been greater than what his own mind and
imagination actually created out of a few simple words? Yes, Linda told me of
your little adventure. I was very impressed. Well?" "No, not necessarily. On the
other hand, I'm aroused by the sight of my wife, by the sight of other beautiful
women, by the sight of graphic sexual images and so on," I said. "Perhaps we put
too much stock in our eyes, but they're still a fundamental part of who we are."
"Yes. Yes, exactly! A fundamental PART of who we are. But still only a part of
our life and of our sexuality. Well, I'm being pedantic and boring here. I
believe in teaching by example and by experience. It tends to stick to the ribs,
so to speak, better than a lecture," he said. Suddenly, in a very firm voice,
"Linda, come over here to me." I heard the rustle of her dress as she moved to
him. "Kneel down between my legs. That's good." There was silence for nearly a
minute, maybe longer (my sense of time had taken a leave of absence). I could
hear the nearly inaudible sounds of a camera shutter. "Ah, very nice. Now I want
you to go over to Peter and kiss him exactly as I just kissed you." I heard her
move to me and kneel between my legs. Her hands moved to the tops of my thighs
and she leaned close to my face. Her lips touched mine gently. They were wet and
warm. Slowly, insistently, her tongue entered my mouth, swirled softly between
my lips and teeth, then went deep into the center. It mingled with my tongue,
entwined, penetrated, retreated, penetrated again. I followed it back out into
her mouth and tasted its sweetness. I felt her lift her right hand, and one of
her fingers gently touched the corner between our pressed lips, then smoothly
entered into the warm double cavity formed by our locked mouths. It probed my
mouth, the space between my cheek and teeth, then retreated into hers with both
our tongues, almost like a third small tongue. The taste of her finger was
slightly salty, and I wondered what it felt like to probe our mouths and
tongues, even as the kiss went on. It was strange and exciting to have this
unfamiliar third thing become a part of our kiss. I was perfectly aware that
William had just kissed Linda in exactly this same way. Slowly, she pulled away.
I wanted more and I was hard as a rock. "Come back to me now, Linda," William
said. "Take off your dress. Leave your panties, the necklace and the heels on."
I could "see" every movement as my wife stripped before this man. There was a
final rustle as the dress was discarded. "You are very beautiful, Linda. Any man
in his right mind would love to know you better, would love to do what I am
going to do tonight. Turn around, slowly. Yes, very nice. Now tell me something.
Do you love your husband?" "Yes, with all my heart." "Of course you do. How does
it feel to stand in front of me like this, with your husband sitting only feet
away? We can both see his erection from here. He is excited knowing that you are
exposed, and that I am in control. How does all this make you feel? Are you
aroused, Linda?" "Yes." "Come here and kneel down. Now give me your hand. There,
gently, just run your nails up and down it's length. Find the head with the tips
of your fingers; use your fingers and hand to try to imagine what it will look
like outside my pants. Is my cock larger than your husband's?" "Yes." "Speak the
entire sentence, Linda." Hesitatingly, "Your cock is larger than my husband's."
"We men are so preoccupied with things like this, aren't we? Of course that was
rhetorical; you needn't answer." "Peter," he continued, "your wife is kneeling
in front of me in a skimpy pair of yellow panties and her heels, stroking my
erection. Even through my pants, I can feel how cool her palms and fingers are."
There was silence for a minute or two. Then, "I think it's time we took it out,
Linda. Here, let me help you." My hand wandered to my crotch, pressed hard
against my aching cock, then moved away. Okay, so I was beginning to get his
point. "Yes, that's much better. Do you want to make love to me, Linda, and do
you want me to make love to you?" Silence. "Linda?" Finally, almost inaudibly,
"yes." "Say the words. Words, you know, are a kind of action. A very powerful
kind of action." "I want to make love to you and I want you to make love to me."
"Don't stop stroking it. I want to taste you, Linda. Use your left hand, put two
fingers inside of you, and put them to my lips." I was starting to get so turned
on, I was having a hard time sitting still. "Delicious. Sweet. A honeysuckle
cunt." "Breigha, sweetheart, I think it's time that we move to the next level.
Would you be so kind as to help Peter up and bring him here? Don't stop what
you're doing, Linda. With your left hand, though, make an "O" with your thumb
and forefinger around the base of the tip. Good. Now as you stroke up its length
with your right hand, squeeze the tip with the ring you've formed in your left,
then relax it as your right hand returns to the base. Yes! That's good. I know
it's hard to get your fingers all the way around it, but you're doing fine." I
felt a soft hand touch my shoulder. I stood, and was guided to the left where
Linda knelt between William's legs. As my forward motion was stopped, one hand
suddenly dropped from my shoulder to my crotch and firmly but gently squeezed my
penis. After William's graphic descriptions and with little tactile stimulation,
the squeeze was heavenly. "Breigha is naughty, sometimes. I see she wants to get
more involved tonight. We'll see, darling. Now, Peter, will you please kneel
behind your wife?" My hands were placed on Linda's warm, naked shoulders, and I
knelt down behind her. "Good. Now spread your knees and scoot up close to her,
so there's no space between your groin and her buttocks." I did so. Through my
hands on her shoulders, I could feel a rhythmic motion of Linda's arms. My knees
brushed what I sensed to be William's spread feet, and I jerked them closer and
tightly to Linda. Still sitting on my heels, my cock was pressed firmly against
Linda's backside through my trousers. "Are we all comfy? What a cozy little
scene! Linda, you may stop working my cock. Now lean back against your husband
with your head on his shoulder, raise your arms and place your hands on both
sides of Peter's head. That's it. Peter, Breigha and I would very much like to
see you caress your wife's breasts. Breigha, would you kneel to the side of me
and continue where Linda left off?" As Linda complied, the position we were in
forced her to arch the center of her back forward, presenting her breasts in a
graphic manner. I dropped my hands, reached around her, and cupped her warm
tits. Then, with the middle three fingers on each hand, I massaged each breast
in a circular fashion, moving from the sides to the center, and around the erect
nipples. I grasped each nipple between thumb and forefinger and gently pulled
them outward, then rolled them between my fingers carefully, like soft grapes.
Releasing them, I opened my hands, placed them over her nipples so they just
lightly brushed the center of my palms, and made a circular motion, gently
rubbing the very tips. Linda was breathing deeply and irregularly. "Nipples were
meant to be suckled. If you would be so kind as to present them for me, Peter, I
believe I will indulge myself." Once again I cupped her breasts from the sides,
squeezing them slightly so the nipples stood out, and waited. I sensed motion as
he leaned forward and felt warm breath near my hands. I felt his mouth close
over the tip of Linda's left breast. A low moan came from deep in Linda's belly.
Her hands were moving through my hair, and over my ears and face. The mouth
moved to the right breast. Once again, I could feel the gentle, rhythmic tug of
his lips through her breast. The motion stopped and I sensed him lean back. I
ran my fingers again over her now wet nipples and pinched them gently. My cock
was so hard, I thought I would explode. "Taste is a little appreciated sense
when it comes to the erotic. Since I've already tasted your wife's sex, as well
as her nipples, I'd like you and Breigha to taste her now, Peter. Being a
gentleman, I know you'd insist on Breigha going first. Please use two of your
fingers and pass them on to my wife." I dropped my right hand down Linda's
belly, then worked them under the elastic band of her panties. Moving through
her downy pubic hair, I circled my forefinger and middle finger down, then up
into my wife's cunt. She was absolutely drenched. Linda's body shivered as I
withdrew my fingers, deliberately rubbing them against her clitoris. I raised my
fingers from my wife's crotch, and a small hand gently grasped my wrist and held
it still. Soft and deliciously warm lips, almost like a cunt, encircled my
fingers all the way to their base. Breigha's tongue swirled around and between
them, and her mouth sucked insistently all the way up their length. All too soon
the lips retreated and were gone. My hand was released. "Your turn, Peter." I
repeated the ritual, this time pausing longer at Linda's clitoris. She squirmed
and shuddered as I teased her. I put my wet fingers to my lips and tongue and
tasted my wife. William was right. She was, as always, delicious. "I believe
you're getting rave reviews, Linda. I think it's time you appreciate what the
three of us have enjoyed. Peter, from the looks of how your fingers glistened,
I'm sure there's plenty left. Please assist your wife." For the third time, I
probed my wife's vagina. Raising my fingers to Linda's lips, she opened her
mouth and took them in. As I withdrew them, her tongue darted out and licked
each finger clean. "You may lean forward and place your hands on my cock again,
Linda. Good. Cup my balls with your left hand and gently squeeze them each time
you pump the shaft with your right. Very good. Now Peter, since you can't see
this pretty scene, I'm going to help you appreciate it fully, and to appreciate
it without your sense of sight. Remember your pledge of cooperation." My heart
was racing and it took every bit of discipline not to begin dry humping my
wife's ass. "Place your hands on your wife's shoulders. Now I want you to follow
her arms down to the elbows. That's it. Now slowly move them along her forearms
to her wrists and finally to the tops of her hands. I want you to gently grip
your fingers around hers and experience their motion. If you should accidentally
touch me, don't worry, nothing terrible will happen to you and no-one will think
you're a bad person. Essentially, I want you to "see" your wife jack me off
through your sense of touch, to have you feel what she feels as she services
another man." As I began to comply, my mind raced and time slowed. I fought the
conflicting emotions, searching for balance and for a harmony within myself that
would let me do this, let me do this for Linda's sake and for the sake of my own
peace of mind. The scene: Blindfolded, I was kneeling on the living room floor,
knees spread, groin tight against the backside of Linda, my wife, who was also
kneeling and sitting on her heels. Linda, in turn, was kneeling between the
outstretched legs of William, who sat on our loveseat. Now, picture this: Me,
Mr. Heterosexual, was leaning forward with my arms around my wife. My left hand
was placed over Linda's left hand which squeezed and massaged William's balls.
My right hand, in turn, was placed over her right hand as she stroked up and
down the length of his cock. Meanwhile, I was the only one fully clothed (I had
NO idea what Breigha was wearing). Such are the things my wife's fantasies are
made of.... I would have been more concerned about the situation, had my cock
been less in need of attention. As it was, I don't think I ever remember having
an erection so purely HARD and urgent. At times, my fingers would slip between
Linda's fingers (accidentally!), which were slick with William's pre-cum, and I
could feel the strange sensation of touching another man's erect penis. "Linda,
kneel up now. I want you to take the tip in your mouth and fellate me. Peter,
gently place your hands on both sides of her head." We did as told. I could feel
the motion of my wife's head as her mouth engulfed William's cock. "That's a
pretty sight, Peter. Ruby lips in a big "O," eyes closed, concentrating on
taking as much as she can, her husband lovingly holding her bobbing head. I
wonder if she uses her tongue on the crown like this when she sucks your cock,
or if this is just for me? My god, it's heavenly." Nearby, the ever present
sound of the camera shutter. "Linda, keep your lips locked on the head. Now,
Peter, this will be an important watershed, but I have confidence in you. I want
you to reach around with your right hand and masturbate me. I want you to jack
me off into your wife's mouth. Don't stop until I've come and Linda has taken
all of it and swallowed. I also want you to place your left hand very lightly
and gently around the underside of her throat so you can feel her swallow, but
in any case be careful not to squeeze or press too hard. Linda, look me in the
eyes. Look nowhere else until I tell you otherwise." Dear Distiller of Fine
Brandy: I would like to express my DEEP appreciation for your excellent product.
Thank-you, thank- you, thank-you.... Okay, here we go. I reached around, grasped
his erection, and began the eternal ritual. He was quite large, indeed. It was
coated with pre-ejaculate and my wife's saliva. My left hand softly held the
underside of Linda's warm throat. Each time my fingers rose to the top, they
would touch my wife's clenched lips: a soft ring of flesh capping the pole I
stroked as I would want mine stroked. "Ah, this is exquisite. And we are so
proud of Peter, aren't we, Linda? He must love you very much. Think about this,
pretty lady. Think about the two men, one in front and one behind you, one whose
cock is firmly in your mouth, for all purposes a total stranger, and the other
your husband, carefully milking that man's sex, the tip of which you hold
between your lips. Isn't sexuality wonderful? There are so many possibilities in
life....." As motor mouth went on, I could feel his hips begin to buck up into
Linda's mouth in rhythm with my hand. Linda had begun to moan softly through her
nose, and I increased the speed and pressure of my hand. "Don't take your eyes
off mine, Linda. I want to see into your soul as I come. You and your husband's
submission and trust is very beautiful, very erotic. As you swallow this,
remember that your trust is not misplaced." With that, William began to cum in
Linda's mouth. I stroked violently up and down his cock and at the same time
gently stroked Linda's throat. I could feel her swallowing motions as his semen
went down into my wife's belly. A few warm strands escaped onto my pumping fist.
His orgasm subsided quickly. Linda's tongue swirled around the still engorged
head and around my slippery fingers. After licking William clean, she took my
fingers and cleaned them also. I wanted, I NEEDED to fuck her, to fuck someone.
Hell, I'd have fucked the carpet on the floor at this point. "Thank-you, Peter.
Thank-you, Linda. Peter, please forgive the poor humor in this, but you may now
kiss the bride." Linda turned her head, and I reached around for her mouth with
mine. I tongued deeply and passionately. She tasted sweet and salty; she tasted
female; she tasted of cum and of lust. "I'm going to nurse my scotch for a
little bit, folks, and enjoy the show. Breigha, I can see, is no longer able to
operate a camera effectively, anyway, what with one hand in her pants. Linda is
not in the least bit satisfied yet. And Peter.... well, what can I say about
Peter? You look a little peaked, there, Peter. A little horny, perhaps?" "I've
been less horny." He chuckled. "Yes, I'm sure you have. Alright. Breigha and
Linda, would you please help Peter up and stand him in front of the fire?" I
stood and was guided to just in front of the fireplace. Soft hands turned me so
I faced the living room away from the heat of the flaming embers. "Remove his
pants and shorts. You can leave his sweater on." One pair of hands unbuckled my
belt while another lowered my zipper. My pants were shed to my ankles and I
stepped out of them. A set of nails ever so lightly ran up and down the length
and underside of my cock through my shorts. A cool hand slipped into my shorts
from behind and through the opening for my left leg, gently caressed me, and
retreated. Suddenly, I felt lips pressing against the tip of my cock. They blew
wet, hot breath which soaked into the fabric of my shorts. "Now the shorts,
ladies. That's good. Say, Peter, it looks like you've got a bit of an erection
there. Would you turn to the side so we can get a profile with the fire behind
you? Nice. The ladies seem to appreciate it. I think they would appreciate it
even more if you did a little showing off for them. Am I right, ladies? I
thought so. Go ahead, Peter, masturbate for them. Stroke it like your wife
stroked yours the night she came home and told you about being fucked by another
man. Spread your legs further apart and stroke it slowly for your wife and for
my wife." I reached with my right hand and began to pump my cock. Images of
Linda's "fling," of her raunchy dancing with a strange man, of sucking him in
her car, of her being fucked from behind in his apartment, and of everything
that had happened tonight sprang to mind. All my self-consciousness was gone.
There was an unbelievable feeling of release and freedom, masturbating in the
dark, to the dark, in front of strangers, in front of my wife... "You have a
sexy, masculine, well kept and well proportioned body, Peter. I'm not saying
that because I desire you, but only in admiration. We've all tasted Linda,
Peter. Now I want you to taste yourself. Squeeze the tip onto your finger and
taste it." I complied. It tasted musky, not unpleasant, and the taste
immediately went to the back of my throat. "Good. Now spread your feet a little
bit wider, just past shoulder length, and put your hands on your hips. Leave
them there until I tell you otherwise. Ladies, I want one of you to kneel in
front of Peter and take his cock in your mouth. I want the other to kneel behind
him and to put your tongue and lips between the cheeks of his ass. You are not
to touch him with your hands. I want you to make him cum with only your mouths.
The way he looks, it doesn't appear it will take much effort." A brief silence,
and then, like a dispensation from heaven itself, a wet mouth closed suddenly
over the tip of my cock. Warm breath between my ass cheeks, then the almost
unbearable sensation of an insistent, probing tongue at my ass-hole. Who was
who, here? Which was Linda and which Breigha? Did it really matter? Not a damn
bit. The feel of two mouths at the same time, one suckling on my erection, the
other gently probing my anus, was unlike anything I had ever felt. A sudden
thrust of the tongue from behind, penetrating me, would send my hips
involuntarily jerking forward into the depths of the waiting mouth and throat. I
concentrated on the pure pleasure of the sensation, exquisite as it was, and
blocked all else out. My only problem was my need to occasionally pay attention
to my leg muscles and to my balance. Although I worked out regularly, my legs
seemed rubbery just now. An orgasm began to gather deep in my gut, somewhere in
my core, between the root of my cock and my ass. It coalesced on a cliff or
precipice in my soul and I teetered at the edge, that edge of indescribable
ecstasy when the pleasure seems to be nowhere and everywhere, that brief
eternity just before we finally tip and fall into the depths of an unstoppable
orgasm. And then I came in a great tsunami of pent-up animal lust. I came in the
sucking mouth, ejaculating wave after wave of semen from deep in my testicles.
It seemed like it would never stop. I wondered briefly whether Linda or Breigha,
whoever was receiving it, was beginning to get concerned about that possibility
themselves. My knees were starting to buckle, and a hand reached out from the
woman kneeling in front of me, took my hand, and steadied me. As the reflexive
jerking of my hips and body began to subside, the lips retreated from my still
erect penis, the mouth at my ass gently kissed one last time, and both women
rose slowly. I could tell it was not my wife in front of me. She was a bit
taller than Linda and, as she pressed up against me, I could feel her breasts
were fuller and more rounded. Linda pressed against me from behind and both
women reached around me with their arms, holding themselves and me between them.
We gently rocked from side to side, and Breigha began to kiss me lightly on my
face, on my forehead, gently on my closed eyelids, on the tip of my nose. I
could feel Linda's soft, warm breath behind my ear. "I'm speechless," William
said. Right. And frogs aren't waterproof, I thought. "Okay, I know what you're
all thinking. So I'm never exactly speechless. But I am deeply impressed. If you
ladies would escort Peter to the couch before he slips down between you like a
wet rag, I believe he would be grateful." They helped me to the couch and sat
down beside me, cuddling like little girls. There was silence for several
minutes. "I think it's time to put Linda in the spotlight again," William said
suddenly. "While I can only speak for myself, it looks like I've sprouted
another insistent stiffy just from watching that magnificent performance. How
about it, Peter, are you up to a little more play?" My cock was still erect and
calling for attention, had never softened a bit, in fact. "I believe I am,
William. And I don't suppose you have anything particular in mind, do you?" He
chuckled. "As a matter of fact..." "Ladies, bring Peter with you and come stand
in front of me," William said. We rose from the couch and moved together toward
William. I was stopped by the gentle, guiding hands. Silence for a moment or
two. "Will you all kindly move so that Linda is in the center of the triad you
form. Linda, take your panties off, and hand them to your husband. Now, turn
around, spread your legs a bit, bend at the waist and place your hands on your
ankles. There, that's fine. Can you spread your feet apart a bit more? Good. And
can you comfortably maintain that position for a little while?," "I think so,"
Linda replied. "Peter, reach down with both your hands and spread your wife's
buttocks, please. Yes, just so. I do enjoy contemplating and enjoying a woman in
this position. It touches the sublimated animal nature in a man, and is more
primitive than face to face coupling. The spiked heels, long sculpted legs
rising to creamy tight buttocks, the pink rosebud asshole, nearly hairless,
topping a small and luscious cunt. Ah, yes. The cunt. That alter of adolescent
dreams and adult passion. How much semen in our long history has been spilled as
an offering to the cunt-dreams and obsessions of young boys? And even as grown
men, having just received the satisfaction of its sacrament, how often does the
lust, desire and even pain remind us that we LACK a cunt around our prick, or at
the end of our fingers or tongue, and that, by god, it's time to worship again?"
"Linda, you have a cunt of great beauty. If it could speak, it would BEG to be
penetrated. It would speak of probing fingers, or of soft tongues. The small
drop of honey just here..." Linda's entire body shivered. "Oh, god...." she
moaned. ".....entwined in the soft pubic hair rising above your clitoris, speaks
plainly enough to anyone willing to listen. It tells me that you need, you want,
you must have my cock, your husband's cock, any cock inside of you. Would you
like to milk my cock with your cunt, dear Linda?" "Yes, yes I'd like that..." "I
know you would. Peter, give me your hand." Holding Linda's left buttock apart
with my left hand, I felt William grasp my right hand by the wrist. He guided it
down and placed it into the cleft of my wife's open buttocks. Releasing my
wrist, he placed his hand on top of mine and moved both our hands downward
together, almost as one. As my middle finger moved along the beginning of
Linda's slit, his middle finger, resting atop mine, suddenly pressed downward
and both of our fingers penetrated deep into Linda's vagina. William spoke
softly, close to my ear, but loud enough for all to hear. "To share your loving
wife with another man, as you share Linda with me, is very beautiful, Peter. It
bespeaks a profound understanding that the most wonderful, the most loving
manifestation of possession is to share. And to share, unreservedly, what we
love most teaches us the gracious lesson that we can never really "possess"
another human being, that all we can ever do is to give, and give, and then give
again. It is not a trite lesson to learn that the more we cling to things, the
more they slip away, while the more we give things up, the more they come to
us." As he spoke, our fingers probed Linda. Together, they moved in and out,
turned about, returned, then slowly left her lubricated cunt. "I can see Linda
is getting a bit uncomfortable. You can stand up, dear. Peter, sit here on the
couch; let me help you. Now sit back and spread your legs. Linda, get down on
your knees in front of your husband and rest your arms on his thighs." I felt
Linda's cool hands slide along the tops of my thighs. There was a moment or two
of silence. Suddenly, I felt her hands tighten and she dug her nails into my
legs. There was a deep exhalation of breath from her lips. "My cock is buried in
your wife, Peter. Linda, you can use your hands on your husband, but not your
mouth. Right now, I want to be the only one penetrating you in any way. Breigha,
please kneel behind me and caress my buttocks." As Linda began to masturbate me,
I felt the rhythmic rocking motion, from William's slow thrusting, being
transmitted through her. Every once in a while, William's thrusts would be more
violent, and Linda would jerk forward. The only sound, besides Linda's
occasional moans and deep breathing, was the "slap" each time his hips met my
wife's buttocks. "Linda, let go of your husband's cock, lay your head on his
lap, and arch your back downward and your hips up. Much better. Now take your
right hand, place the middle finger in your husband's mou
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