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During the daytime the streets were like that of a ghost town, as
everybody remained inside with shades closed to beat the heat.
Air-conditioners became the number one most stolen item in the city,
beating out televisions by a wide margin. It made sense of a sort, after
all, you don’t even need to get inside the house to steal one. Many a
homeowner returned from work in the evening to find a large hole in the
wall where the family’s most cherished appliance once rested and
subsequently broke down in tears. However, the chief of police had a sudden
brainstorm that guaranteed a quick end to this new and despicable crime
wave. He promptly instructed all four hospitals in the Willyville area to
inform the police of any emergency room cases involving hernias or slipped
discs. When the anxious media questoned the chief of police on this new
tactic, he simply replied that the results so far were “interesting”.

In other news, weather forcaster Bob Katt had been suspended for
appearing on his show wearing boxer shorts, a tie, and nothing else. It
seems the building’s air-conditioning system had been stolen the previous
night (an impressive feat in itself, considering that the compressor alone
weighed half a ton) and Bob had refused to work in a suit in the stifling
heat. So he had walked into the studio, dressed only in his skivvies, and
up in front of the camera before any of the stunned studio crew could even
think of stopping him. Of course, it would have been very bad form to yank
him off the camera, so they simply let him do his broadcast. Once he was
finished he was greeted by a purple faced station manager. Despite the
indian pressure groups, Bob was still very popular in Willyville, so he was
not fired on the spot.

Instead, the station manager sent him on a long overdue vacation…

Saturday dawned bright, clear, and warm (surprise, surprise!). Harold
was up with the sun, mostly because he hadn’t slept at all the previous
night. His stomach was a tight little knot and his heart would not stop
pounding. He was having second thoughts about the party. Harold Sykes had
never been a party animal, and recent… events… had convinced him that
he would be very wise to stay away from certain segments of the human race
(read: female) for a long time to come. In fact, now that he thought about
it, he was rather frightened of them. After all, if he couldn’t keep Cindi
happy, would he be able to keep any woman happy? And there would be lots of
girls there, probably all laughing at him. Why go?

Then he thought about his depression of the last couple weeks. Tom had
a point: right or wrong, he had to do something.

Tom came by at 2:30 and picked Harold up. As they drove over to
Squirrel Heights, Tom did most of the talking. Harold had lapsed into a
moody silence, soaking up Tom’s words and saying almost something in
return. If Tom noticed, he didn’t show it as he kept up a steady monologue
all the way to the house.

The Squirrel Heights Boarding house was a dumpy three story affair
sitting in front of about two acres of worn out farmland. The place was run
by an aging ex-stockbroker named Michael Wilburn, who believed in free
expression of everything and threw wild parties as often as the house’s
budget would allow. Some of the parties were solely for the house’s
inhabitants, but most of them were for whoever wanted to come. Booze and
most kinds of drugs generally circulated freely, and Harold had heard
rumors even more outrageous than that. All in all, it was pretty
intimidating to an introvert like Harold, and as he stepped out of Tom’s
car and looked at the peeling gray mass of the boarding house looming over
him, and the virtual sea of cars surrounding it, he knew he had made a
mistake. He as much as said so to Tom, who ignored him completely.

The affair was already in progress, as he discovered when Tom led him
around the back of the house. There must have been almost a hundred people
there, engaged in all manner of outdoor activities. People everywhere,
talking, yelling, running, horsing around, just generally having a good
time. A table had been set up by the back door, and there was somebody
serving booze and food to an endlessly regenerating queue.

Harold looked around and noticed that Tom had abandoned him and was
nowhere in sight. For an instant he almost panicked and yelled for Tom,
then his rational mind took over. What’s your problem? it said. You’re an
adult, you don’t need a keeper.

So Harold decided to walk around and see what he could see.

In one corner a net had been set up for a vollyball game. There was a
team on each side, if a pushing, laughing, staggering group of people could
be called a team. Harold stood off to one side with a small group of
spectators and watched. All of a sudden his attention had been captured by
one particular member of one team.

She wasn’t tall, maybe five seven or so, buxom, and maybe a few pounds
overweight. Which, as far as Harold was concerned, made her all the more
nicely rounded. Her hair was blonde and fell down past her shoulders. Her
face was pretty, but not spectacularly so. What had really caught Harold’s
attention was what she was wearing, or, more to the point, not wearing. She
was dressed in frayed cutoff jeans that were so tight they had split along
the sides halfway up her hips, and a string bikini top that struggled
valiantly to hold up under the weight of enormous breasts. Harold glanced
around and saw that she had the attention of pretty much every man in the
crowd.

His heart fluttered as he watched her move, and he couldn’t help but
wonder what it would be like to take her to bed. He imagined her long hair
spread out over the pillow, glimmering faintly in the moonlight, those
magnificent breasts moving in slow liquid motion as she arched her back in
sheer pleasure, her frenzied gasps as she reached a sudden and powerful
orgasm…

Harold shook his head to clear it. Get real, he told himself. Someone
like that certainly already has a boyfriend, and even if she didn’t, why
should she be interested in somebody like him? He turned around and began
to make his way back towards the house.

Sudden catcalls and whistles made him turn around again. She was
sitting on the grass, apparently having just fallen. When she landed, the
overburdened top string of her bikini had given way, exposing her for all
the world to see.

He could not help but stare. Her nipples stood out hard, the aurioles
colored light rose pink. He ached to take them in his mouth, to feel their
soft but firm weight in his hands. Then he looked up and saw she was
staring directly at him.

He locked eyes with her and suddenly his face turned beet red. Why, he
didn’t know, because surely every other male here was staring and thinking
the same thoughts. She made no move to cover herself, she just sat there,
challenging him with her gaze.

Finally, Harold turned and pushed his way through the crowd. His heart
was pounding in his ears and his balls, denied their release, ached
miserably. He still had a raging hard-on and kept his hands in his pockets
to conceal it. He felt sick, and ashamed. And he wanted to leave this
instant.

But that stare kept coming back to him. On reflection, he felt there
was more than just a challenge in her eyes. What, he didn’t know, but he
somehow knew it. It was almost as if a spark had passed between them.
Undoubtedly it was just his overworked imagination, but…

He felt as if she wanted him, too.

Day gave way to night, as days usually do, and slowly Willyville began
to cool off. People moved out of their stifling houses (except for those
who hadn’t had their air-conditioning stolen yet) and into their back
yards. They brought TV trays, TV’s, barbecues, bedrolls, and just generally
prepared to enjoy the night in relative coolness.

All over Willyville the night was alive with the sound of voices,
televisions, stereos, lustful moans and the other noises of humans enjoying
themselves outdoors. With one exception. In Squirrel Heights, all was
quiet. The place seemed deserted, in fact. Virtually all human life in the
area had gravitated to one spot. At the Squirrel Heights boarding house,
when night fell, the real party began…

Harold Sykes hadn’t left the party like he planned, although he came
awful damn close to doing so when he spotted Cindi in the crowd. But, in
the end, the thought of going back to his lonely, empty, stuffy house was
just too much. So instead he wandered around the yard, just watching the
extraordinary panorama of human activity taking place before him.

Eventually he found a peaceful spot on the back porch where he just
sat and watched the sun set. Tom came by and asked him how he was doing.

“Better.” sighed Harold, “I really feel better.”

Tom gave him a wink. “You may be feeling better than that before the
night’s over, old buddy.” and sauntered off before Harold could say
anything.

Now what was that supposed to mean?

As it got dark, the party outside thinned out. A few left, spinning
their wheels in the gravel lot out front, but most just went inside the
house. Probably gonna booze it up good, Harold thought, Although it looked
to him like they had been boozing more than adequetely already. Harold
didn’t feel like drinking very much, especially after his binge the other
day. Drugs didn’t hold much of an attraction for him, either. Just sitting
there, alone with his thoughts, seemed to do quite a bit for him.

Eventually he awoke from his musings and was startled to find he was
alone. With a sigh he got up and went in through the back door.

The back hallway was unlit. There was the low murmur of voices and
music coming from somewhere ahead. He could make out dim light from around
a corner in the distance. Cautiously he made his way down the hallway,
hoping nothing solid was in the way of his shins.

Eventually he made his way to the light, and when he turned the corner
he recieved the shock of his life.

The front room was spacious and poorly lit. But the light was more
than adequete for Harold to see what was going on. There was about twenty
to thirty people sprawled about the room, all naked, contorted in every
kind of sexual position imaginable. And a couple that weren’t imaginable.

Harold could only stare dumbly. The floor was almost lost amongst the
moving, writhing bodies. There were six people on the couch, in some
bizarre group contortion that made them look like something from another
planet. One man sat moaning softly in an easy chair with a hard-on that
Harold would have sworn was twelve inches long, at least. He watched in
total amazement as all twelve inches dissappeared into the mouth of the
co-ed sitting on the floor between the man’s feet.

The blonde he had seen earlier was conspicuously absent.

He heard creaking above him, and he looked up. In the rafters, some
twelve feet above, a rope and pully setup had been arranged with a large
wicker basket. Three people were in the basket, which swung back and forth
alarmingly. Harold quickly moved several feet over, out from under the
setup.

His head was spinning. His experience with sex had always been
limited, and now he was confronted with a full-fledged orgy. It was too
much. He didn’t want any part of this. All he wanted was out.
Watching his step carefully, he made his way for the nearest door. He
was almost there when he saw the one thing he *knew* he didn’t want to
see.

There was a clear spot at the far end of the room. Only two people
were there, a man flat on his back with a woman sitting astride his hips,
moving up and down in sensuous rhythem. He didn’t know who the guy was but
he knew the girl. Cindi. Pain that had been mercifully submerged now rose
to stab arrowlike into his guts. Cindi turned her head at that instant and
their eyes met. Instant recognition and something spiteful and unpleasant
glittered in her eyes for a brief second, and then she turned her attention
back to what she was doing. Her movements became more frantic, and her
moans much louder, exaggerating as much as possible.

Her parting words rang in his mind: “I want a man, dammit!” Well,
fine. All Harold wanted was out. He averted his eyes and ran blindly
towards the closest exit. He stumbled over one couple on the way (startling
them into a premature orgasm) and mumbled apologies as he kept going.

Then he was in a hallway, but not the one he had come from. Doors
lined the hall on both sides. He grabbed one and pulled it open, only to be
rewarded with several outraged yells. Redfaced and near tears from
embarassment, he pulled the door shut and looked around desperately. And
empty room, anything, just so he could get out of sight and get his
thoughts together. If he didn’t do it quick, he feared he might lost his
mind. He had to get away, somehow!

There, at the end of the hall. An open door, the room dark within. He
paused at the doorway for a second, but could detect no movement within.
Empty, thank God! He slammed the door shut behind him and let the blackness
envelop him as he sank to the floor with a hoarse sob. He lay in a heap for
who knew how long before he finally calmed down.

His heart gave a sudden leap as he somehow realized, in the total
darkness, that that the room wasn’t empty after all. After a long moment,
he finally summoned up a weak voice. “Who’s there?”

There was a longer silence, and he almost began to hope he was alone
after all, when a soft voice answered “Are you all right?”

Fuck NO! I ain’t all right, you stupid… But Harold controlled
himself before replying, “I will be, eventually. In about fifty years or
so.” He hesitated before the next question, “Are you, um, alone?”

“Yeah.” she replied, “I just wanted to be by myself. I kinda outgrew
the scene out front a long time ago. All the interesting guys already have
somebody. There was one guy, but I think he went home or something.”

Harold got up, a little unsteadily “I’m sorry. Sorry I barged in on
you. I’ll leave now.”

“Please, don’t.” she said, “Unless you really need to. I think we
could both use someone to talk to.”

Harold sat back down against the wall with a weary sigh. “Sure, why
not?” After a silent moment, he continued, “Would you mind turning on a
light? I’d like to see who I’m talking to.”

“Well,” she began doubtfully, “you may feel more comfortable without
the light, but if you insist…” There was a click and a flare of light
exploded into his eyes, blinding him momentarily. When he could open his
eyes, he recieved the last shock of a very long day.

Standing by a lamp on the dresser was the blonde from the vollyball
game, still dressed in the frayed shorts but minus the bikini top, which
lay discarded on the bed. She had her eyes screwed shut against the light,
opening them a moment later.

“Oh! It’s you!”

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things, don’t they?

These days a mixed marriage elicits very little response from others;

people are more tolerant, more carefree, I guess just more apathetic.

But thirty odd years ago things were very different.

Since Corina and I grew up together in the same small town, neither of

us had any concern for the colour of the other’s skin – she was black,

I was white. That was all we knew and all we cared about. But,

unfortunately, our liberal views were not shared by the whole town.

We matured and I began to see Corina as more than just a childhood

playmate. Her lithe, black body as it undulated under the loose

fitting tops and skirts that she would wear had me experiencing

sensations that I had never previously felt. Corina’s feelings towards

me were also changing; the way that she looked at me with her sexy,

crooked smile and the way that she would brush up against me or touch

my hand or arm sensuously during a conversation made me realise that

she was experiencing the same feelings of young lust that I was.

Whispers were rife all over town – a white man and a black woman

getting together? It was practically unheard of and we were looked

upon with distrust and uncertainty by a lot of the townsfolk.

But Corina and I didn’t concern ourselves with what others thought. We

kept ourselves private and in a world known only to us. Long,

meandering walks out into the countryside became our favourite

pastimes. The clear, blue sky, the sounds of wildlife all around us,

the rich, fragrant scent of the pine forests and the joy of being

together – we felt we had it all!

I never even asked her to marry me; it was something that we both just

expected to happen – as if some unspoken telepathy existed between us.

The ceremony was small and informal. We knew that many of our

neighbours were not impressed by our mixed creed relationship, but

what did we need them for anyway, we had each other.

But feelings surrounding our marriage were intensifying. It seemed

that Corina and I had underestimated the attitude of the townsfolk

towards us and we were about to discover exactly how strongly some of

them felt.

We had moved into a small house on the outskirts of town. The land

surrounding us gave us good crops of fruit and vegetables that

supplemented the meagre rations that my work as a furniture maker was

able to provide. We had few luxuries but were happy spending our

evenings sitting on the porch, watching the stars and planning our

future.

Our sex life was wonderful. Apart from a little touching and fondling

before we married, we had virtually saved ourselves. But now we were

free to enjoy the fruit that we had for so long forbidden each other.

And enjoy we did. I discovered that Corina was extremely sexual. She

would use her body while we made love, twisting and turning her

slender frame to maximise the pleasure for both of us. There seemed

little that she wouldn’t try and I remember the exquisite sensations

that I experienced when she took my dick into her pretty mouth for the

first time.

We were sitting out on the porch as usual that evening. The air was

cool and fragrant and we cuddled up as we watched the sun go down and

the stars begin to pin-prick the darkening sky. The sound of the

vehicle seemed a long was off and I gave it little thought as I buried

my face in my wife’s thick black hair and let my fingers wander over

the dark, smooth skin of her thigh below the hem of her loose dress.

“I think that car’s getting closer, baby.” Corina said with a giggle

as I tickled the inside of her thigh. “Maybe you better stop that

before you go too far. We might be getting visitors!”

“You really want me to stop?” I whispered into her ear.

…End of the part1. To be continued..

it successfully and see how she handled it. He ran a gloved hand over the

frosted intercom panel, stopping and pressing one labeled “9 – Sanders” and

cleared his throat.

“Yes?” It was the sound he’d fallen in love with – the voice of this woman he’d

never met, but knew as intimately as he knew himself.

He immediately assumed the lazy Southern drawl he’d been practicing, covering his

normally flat voice. “Phone company, miss. You a ‘Ms. Sanders’ who wants a

second line installed?” “Oh, yes; you’re early – the person at the office said

this afternoon-” the disembodied voice replied.

“Well, yer lucky; my first call was supposed to be a repair job that’d take all

morning, but they cancelled.” He was having trouble not adding small things like

“darling” or “my lovely lap-dancer”.

“Good; the sooner I get the line installed, the sooner I can log-on and-” The

rest of her plans were drowned out by a harsh metallic buzz. He grabbed his

toolbox and reached to open the door, unable to suppress a grin at the irony of

her statement. He breathed deeply as he mounted the half-flight of stairs,

shaking his head to rid himself of any stage fright. He’d always worried about

the wrong things before – surely this meant that all would go well? The hard

part was getting his body to believe it.

He concentrated on projecting the image of an American phone technician on his

first job of the day. A coil of cable was over his left shoulder, a large

tool-case in his right hand and blue, insulated coveralls obscuring his body from

neck to ankle. A hard hat covered his dark hair – ’she’d spot that right away

after what she said upon getting my picture’ he thought – and to complete the

facade a worn, weathered clipboard in his left hand.

He stepped to the correct door, stuck his gloves in a pocket, placed his toolbox

on the floor, and rapped on the door. To add to the illusion, he stood on his

toes – adding to his apparent height. He also grabbed a pen from his chest

pocket and started ‘writing’ on the clipboard held *just* in between the fish-eye

and his face – right-handed to further lull his prey from detecting her

“Grammar-Checker”.

He was rewarded with a series of clicks and the door opened. “I’d like the plug

near the table over there-” she said as she pointed back into the apartment, and

gasped as the ‘phone technician’ dropped his things and hugged her, surprising

her with a deep, passionate kiss. She felt the bristle of his moustache,

myopically saw the small scar on his cheek, and stopped resisting. When they ran

out of breath, they separated and she cried out his name with a child-like look

of delight on her face. “What ARE you doing here?”

“Gee, what do you THINK, lover? We’ve both been champing at the bit to meet

finally.”

“How’d you do all this?”

“Simple – you mentioned that you were finally getting an ISP and extra phone

line. I stayed at that motel just outside Geneva and waited to see a phone

company van to go by – handy thing, you living in a small town. I was lucky

enough for it to pull into a gas station on the way. When the driver went in to

pay, I slipped up and took a peek at the work orders.”

“But what if I’d have been the first client of the day, or if he hadn’t stopped?”

“Just lucky I guess – there’s only so much planning you can do. Anyway, happy

birthday.”

They kissed again. “Thank you; it’s not ’til Wednesday, but I think this is a

wonderful gift. One question remains – how could you even afford a plane ticket?

You never got that work term in Kansas City!”

“Well, there’s an interesting story that will explain my ability to be with the

one I love…but that will wait for lunch; right now we’ve got some things to

attend to.” His mouth curled into a salacious, wolf-like grin – showing her what

he’d meant every time he added “” to an email comment. He turned to grab his

things in the hall and was rewarded with a slap on the buttocks.

…End of the part1. To be continued..

The stereo ground out an old Beatle’s tune, slowing now and then with the
power failures typical of poorly wired urban apartment buildings. It may have
been two high school girls dressing for their first dates, judging from the
excitement and expectations, matching lipstick and nail polish, changing
stockings and shoes.

“It all went well last night then?” asked Sandy, stroking the hair brush
through her long, thick locks.

“Perfect. Just perfect! In fact,” confessed Chris poking an earring
through her pierced ear, “he was a real doll. Very mature and dignified and he
didn’t even try to kiss me! God, maybe I have bad breath or something,” she
chuckled, never loosing sight of her profile in the dressing mirror.

“That could almost get to be a drag,” mused Sandy, with raised eyebrows.
“That has never happened to me, so I wouldn’t know. ”

Chris snapped the earring shut. “Tell me about it, Sandy.” she said
light-heartedly, but with a sting of sarcasm.

“Come on. I can’t help it if I like to make love. It’s the neatest
thing in the world. Can you think of anything that feels any better?”

Chris laughed. “Its been so long I couldn’t say…”

Sandy turned from her girlfriend and searched through her big leather bag
until she found the foil-wrapped packet she had stashed there for emergencies.
Actually, it was Roger’s idea, but she had to agree it was a good one. “Chris,
come on, this will get you in a party mood.”

Chris looked up, saw that Sandy was holding a lighted cigarette in her
hand. She held the lighted stick of marijuana in offering and Chris accepted
it, though reluctantly. Too many times she’d let herself loose control while
stoned; it was a vice she had grown wary of.

“I’m no sure…”

“Don’t be such a prude!” chided Sandy, taking a deep puff herself. “Here,
smoke a little. C’mon.” She held the hand-rolled cigarette to Chris’s lips;
first the blonde turned away, but then when it was obvious that Sandy would
persist, she reluctantly took one tiny puff. A tingle of warmth followed the
sweet-smelling smoke down her throat and along the nerve channels of her body;
just the one puff was enough to bring a wave of relaxation to her excited body.
She felt her mind loosen as if obeying some secret command; another, deeper
drag followed, then still another…

Soon, in minutes, or in hours, they had finished the joint and Sandy had
produced another from her tin foil packet. Chris didn’t hesitate this time;
the nerve-soothing drug seemed to answer a deep inner need, and the inbred
instinct to resist it had been destroyed.

“There, you feel more like partyin’ now without getting goose bumps?”
Sandy asked her shy friend.

Chris nodded. “Yes, thanks. I feel a lot… a lot better now.” Her
words were beginning to blur together, and she hesitated at places that needed
no pause.

“Now about tonight. We’re getting paid one hundred dollars each since
this is a private party that Roger is giving for some business friends. Is
that cool with you?” asked the brunette watching her friends eyes sparkle with
dollar signs.

“That sounds okay to me!” burst Sandy, stepping into her platform shoes.
She always waited ’til the last minute to put them on out of consideration for
the neighbors below who had to listen to the heavy clump, clump of her wooden
heels. Bending over to secure the straps and buckle the tiny metal fastener at
her slim ankle, Chris lost her balance and fell on her buttocks, with a groan.

Sandy looked down at her stoned friend. “For god’s sakes, Chris, get
your act together. We’re supposed to be calm and sophisticated debutantes,
remember? Not a couple of burned out hippies.”

“All right, all right,” snapped Chris defensively before bursting into
giggles.

Sandy headed toward the living room and called over her shoulder to
Chris, still in her bedroom. “Why don’t you make yourself a cup of coffee! I’m
going down to see if everything is cool with Roger.” The door slammed behind
her and Chris, kicking off her uncomfortable shoes, padded in her level bare
feet to the kitchen.

“Roger!” Sandy knocked on the door and was greeted on the second knock,
but she didn’t step in; there wasn’t time.

“Howdy, Sandy. Everything set?”

“Just like you said. A few pulls on the grass and she’s ready for
anything. Grass does that to her.” Sandy leaned against the door jam and
stared at a scrawled note that lay on the doormat. Stooping over, she picked
it up and handed it to Roger. “Looks like this is for you. Must have blown off
the door.”

“Thanks,” said the landlord, scanning the pencil-written note. His eyes
narrowed disconcertedly, a gesture Sandy did not fail to notice.

“What’s the matter? Somebody’s tub overflow?” she giggled.

“Naw. It’s from Margaret… she lives upstairs from me. Christ, I wish
she would stop nagging me. Goddamn women, can’t leave me alone,” he chuckled
egocentrically. “Ah,” he sneered. “She’s just a dumb immigrant from the old
country,” he said, mimicking Margaret’s Swedish accent.

“Anyway, I came down to see if everything’s okay. I’m sure I can handle
those friends of yours, but I’m not too sure about Chris. She’s pretty shy,
you know.”

“Just keep gettin’ her loaded. She’ll be okay.”

He kissed her on the forehead and she sauntered down the musty smelling
hallway, passing by door after door, hearing muffled sounds of the evening
news, mixed with low conversation and the heady smell of dinner wafting out
from under closed doors. Sandy had one hand on the railing when something
behind her made her jump.

Appearing from nowhere — she had to be hiding in the hall to go
unnoticed — Sandy spied a blonde haired woman, mature and buxom in her tight
fitting cotton dress. Smiling, Sandy turned to greet her, to say hello, but
the woman stiffened and brushed on by, her mouth turned down in a hateful
grimace at the sight of the young black haired girl who’d replaced her in
Roger’s life.

Margaret’s low-heeled shoes pounded rhythmically on the threadbare
carpeting of the steps, then silenced as she reached the hallway above and
charged for the quiet of her modest apartment. The tears she’s struggled to
hold within burst free and she collapsed on her bed.

She’d heard it all. So that’s what Roger thought of her? A stupid Swede
from the old country. Margaret took one loving glance at Sandor’s photograph
and plotted her revenge. And, she the goods on him, she mused with a sudden
taste for retaliation. In the last three days that she’d been following him,
she learned enough about him to make a complaint to somebody. Who, she wasn’t
certain of, but there had to be laws against pandering women and reading other
people’s mail as she’d seen him do through the window of his living room where
she’d stood on the fire escape.

At the time of this story my Dena was 29 years old, about 5′ 5″
with stylish blond hair. She’s trim and without doubt her face and
ass are her best assets. She is a former state beauty pageant
winner and her features are smooth and defined, like her
personality. She’s a knock out in a bikini and enjoys the attention
she gets form other men.

We had heard of men who encourage and enjoy watching their spouse
have sex with other men. We were fascinated and aroused by reading
such stories in magazines about swinging and mate sharing and I
often fantasized about seeing my wife screw another man. Dena and
I had talked about a threesome but I never really thought it would
happen. That was until four years ago.

Shortly after accepting a new sales position that required
extensive travel I began to suspect Dena of having an affair. The
idea of her falling in love with another man didn’t enter into my
thoughts but I was convinced that she was seeing someone. I
secretly hoped my suspicions were true and often made excuses that
I had to stay out of town overnight when it wasn’t really required.

Many times I would lay awake fantasizing about Dena with another
man as I lay alone in my motel room. I imagined her rushing off to
meet her lover as soon as our nightly phone conversation ended. On
several occasions I waited ten or fifteen minutes and called home
again only to hear up to five minutes of unanswered ringing. I
would do this every half hour or so until around one or two in the
morning she would answer the phone. I always hung up without saying
anything. I never told Dena that I had called back and she never
said anything about going out anywhere.

This behavior continued for about two or three weeks and just when
I had made plans to try and catch her she started answering each
time I called home. Dena began to complain that someone was calling
and hanging up the phone when she answered so I waited much longer
between calls.

I became disappointed because now it seemed that my suspicions were
unfounded or the affair had ended. I began fantasizing about ways
of having her seduced when another set of events began occurring.

I was at our local club having a drink at the bar when a neighbor
I knew only slightly came in and took the stool next to mine. Our
conversation was casual but he asked a question that caused me to
rethink my doubts about Dena and a possible affair.

During our conversation our neighbor asked how I liked my new car.
At first I thought he was talking about my new company car which is
a Buick. I told him that I really liked the car and that I was very
satisfied with the gas milage. It wasn’t until he said how he too
would like to have such a car but that he certainly couldn’t afford
anything so expensive. I knew a Buick was well within his means so
he A) Had me confused with someone else. Or B) Someone driving an
expensive automobile was visiting my house.

Without acting surprised I told my neighbor that I had gotten a
very good deal and that it really hadn’t cost as much as he might
think. This seemed to satisfy him and our conversation moved to
other subjects, although I’m not sure what we talked about because
I was thinking about the strange automobile parking in my drive. I
revived my plans to see if Dena was having an affair.

The following Monday I told Dena that my duties would require me to
be out of town until Friday night. As always she seemed
disappointed but accepted that it had to be. I on the other hand
imagined that she was already preparing to invite her lover into
our bed.

I drove to a local hotel and checked in for four nights. I parked
my car in the hotel’s indoor lot so it couldn’t be easily seen. I
then called Avis and rented a completely different car making sure
it was of a completely different color.

I made the necessary business phone calls from my hotel room but
remained in the room and out of view until darkness. Around 7pm I
called home as I had always done when away. After my brief
conversation with Dena I called room service for dinner and watched
TV. By 9pm I had waited as long as I could.

Driving the rental car past my house I was mildly disappointed to
see only the normal house lights and only Dena’s car in our drive.
I drove around town until I made another pass by our house around
9:30pm. Even more disappointment when I saw only Dena’s car in our
drive. I continued to drive around until I made a third pass by the
house around 9:45pm. Nothing had changed and I was now really
disappointed. I wanted to catch my wife with another man but it
seemed it wouldn’t happen tonight.

I had driven about half way down one of the two main entrance roads
leading to our subdivision when a 530 Mersadies sports car passed
going in the direction of my house. I quickly took the next turn
and turned my car around. The Mersadies tail lights were still
visible and about a quarter of a mile ahead. I closed the distance
between us slightly but made sure to remain well back.

My heart was racing and I was wondering. Was this the car my
neighbor had been talking about? The Merrsadies made a left turn
onto the street our house was on. This had to be the car that had
been parking in my drive I thought. “Please be the car.” I said
aloud to myself. I passed the street leading to my house knowing
that I could see our drive clearly only a few hundred yards ahead.

As I slowed and looked in the direction of my house I saw the
Mersadies head lights as it pulled into my drive. I almost shouted
knowing this had to be my wife’s lover. I turned my car into the
street that ran behind our house. Knowing the house directly behind
ours was vacant I pulled into the drive and killed the lights.

I waited a few minutes then got out of the rental and keeping to
the shadows I slowly jogged into my back yard. Remaining in the
shadows I approached the side of my house and made my way to the
den window. I knew there was little chance that I would be seen but
I had worn dark clothing and was being a quite as possible as I
looked into the window.

There on my sofa sat a man of about 45 years I had never seen. He
was certainly well dressed and clean looking. “So this was Dena’s
lover and I approve.” I thought to myself. Then found myself
wondering how large his cock was and did Dena give this man head as
she had often done for me. If she did give him head did she allow
him to cum in her mouth or did they only fuck straight? Did they
use protection? I hoped they didn’t. For some reason I hoped he
would cum inside Dena.

Dena entered the den carrying drinks. She handed her friend a glass
and sat down beside him. Before taking a drink both my wife and her
friend placed their drinks on the sofa table and locked themselves
in a very passionate embrace. As the kissed I noticed this man was
unbuttoning Dena’s blouse. Dena’s hand was on his crotch and I knew
she was massaging his cock and balls. “I hope he’s hung like a
horse.” I thought.

My own cock was rock hard as I watched the couple before me undress
each other. When the gentleman stood Dena unbuckled his belt. She
unzipped his trousers and tugged them down. As this man stood
before my wife his trousers fell around his ankles as Dena pulled
his jockey shorts down.

I couldn’t see the man’s cock because he was quarter turned away
from me but I could clearly see Dena had his cock in her mouth.
Dena’s hands were slowly stroking this man’s ass and upper legs as
she took him into her mouth. This continued for about a minute when
Dena’s lover turned to sit down on the sofa.

Dena released her mouth hold on his cock and as the man sat down
she got on her knees before him. Clearly she planned to continue
sucking his cock. It was at this time that I saw the man’s cock for
the first time. It was much larger than my seven and one half
inches. I would guess at least 10 or 11 inches in length and very
thick. It was so thick that the head of his cock seemed small.
Almost as if it belonged to a 7 inch cock but was attached to this
massive sausage.

Dena took this stranger’s cock in both hands and began jacking it
as she took as much as she could in her mouth. To me Dena looked
beautiful as she knelt before the man sucking his monster tool. I
was slowly massaging my own cock through my trousers as I hoped
they would continue until he shot his load in Dena’s mouth.

Within a few minutes I had my wish. The man laid his head back and
closed his eyes. I knew he was about to cum and so did Dena. She
was jacking his cock faster now and sucking him as deep as she
could. The man stiffened and Dena slowed her hand and head motion.
I knew he was shooting his load into my wife’s mouth and she
appeared to love it. “Please swallow his cum.” I was thinking as I
shot my own load into my shorts.

Dena did as I had hoped because when the man had finished climaxing
she got up to sit beside him. She said something to him and they
both laughed and took a sip of their drinks. There was no trace of
cum on Dena’s face so I knew she had done as I had hoped and had
swallowed his load. I hoped his cum had been thick and plentiful
but I had no way of knowing.

Dena and her lover sat on the sofa talking, kissing and fondling
each other until I saw the man’s cock begin to come alive again.
Dena bent over a sucked his cock until it was fully erect again
then she stood up. Although her blouse and bra had been removed
earlier she now let her skirt fall to the floor and removed her
bikini panties.

The man pulled my wife to him and began to eat her pussy as she
stood wide legged before him. I sure he couldn’t get to her pussy
very well and he said something to her. Dena laid back on the sofa
and with one foot on the floor and one on the back of the sofa she
offered herself to her lover.

I watched as the man began to eat my wife and slowly jack his own
cock. Since my cock had remained hard the entire time I unzipped my
trousers, now very wet from the load I had shot earlier. Taking my
cock out I began to jack off as I watched the scene before me.

The man continued to eat Dena pussy until I could tell she was
about to cum. He then made his way on top of her and I could
clearly see his cock as it entered Dena’s now very wet pussy. At
first he pushed only the head and perhaps two inches in. Dena’s ass
was moving up to him, urging him deeper into her. The man was
fucking her with only a few inches of his cock when he suddenly
plunged his entire cock into my wife. His balls, again much larger
than mine, slapped against Dena’s ass as he began to fuck her
harder.

Even above the air-conditioning and through closed windows I could
hear Dena. “Oh God! Oh God! Fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck me! Oh God Fuck
me!” I felt my balls tighten and my own cum began to shoot as I
watched the couple before me. It was truly beautiful watching my
wife enjoy being power fucked by this stranger. I wanted them to
continue but the man’s body stiffened and he pushed himself as deep
as he could into Dena. I knew he was depositing another load in
places much deeper that I ever had.

It was clear that Dena was enjoying being fucked by this man
because she was having one orgasism after the other. I saw their
combined juices, thick and white, on the shaft of the man’s cock as
he fucked in-an-out. It was slowly running out of Dena’s pussy and
down her ass. So that’s what those stains were on the sofa. I
continued to jack myself as the lovers continued to fuck each other
on the sofa.

I must have jacked myself as they fucked for five minutes or more
when the man’s body stiffened again. Plunging himself deep into
Dena’s pussy he began to shoot another hot load of his semen. I too
shot another load and gave a silent prayer of thanks for allowing
me to witness my wife being so thoroughly fucked.

I pulled up in front of my mother’s house and beeped the
horn. My daughters, 12 and 10, came running out and I waved at
their Granny as I pulled away.
Melissa, the 12 year old, looked over at me, “Wow, Mom, what
have you been doing? You look a mess”
Krissy concurred from the back seat, “Yeah, your hair looks
terrible.”
I asked them about their day and we went through McDonald’s
Drive-Thru without incident. At home, Frank was just getting out
of his car as we pulled up. He waited and then kissed us all on
the cheeks.
“Hi, Honey. You look like you had a tough day.”
“Yeah, it was long and hard. The girls already told me my
hair was a mess. They just don’t appreciate the effort I went
to, to get it looking this way!”
He tousled it with his hand, “I noticed, but I thought it
looked sexy. How was the traffic on your end?”
I smiled at him, “Well, Dear, the Beltway was a real mess.
I won’t soon forget today’s traffic jam. This one guy was really
zipping in and out, then he got behind me, and he just wouldn’t
get off my ass.”
Frank patted my shoulder, “I know, Julie, there are some
real fucking assholes out there.”
“You can say that again, Honey.”
Maybe the guilt would come later.
Then, again, maybe it won’t!

[From The San Francisco Examiner, June 9]

International pornography magnate and accused racketeer Reuben Sturman
is converting a landmark North Beach strip joint into a big peep-show
arcade, according to city records.

City building inspectors have allowed the Sturman firm to begin tearing
out the club’s interior, but they want assurances that two of the peep-show
booths will be wheelchair-accessible before they will issue a permit for
remodeling….

–

First Woman: “This is very embarrassing, but every time I sneeze, I
have an orgasm.”
Second Woman: “You poor dear! Are you taking anything for that?”
First Woman: “Snuff.”

————

What’s the definition of the perfect woman?
1) She’s three feet tall, has a round hole for a mouth
and her head is flat so you can put cocktails on it.
2) The sports model has pull-back ears and her teeth fold in.
3) The economy model – she fucks all night and at midnight
she turns into a roast beef sandwich and a six pack.

————

Three old ladies were sitting on a park bench when a flasher walked up
to them and displayed his endowments. The first old lady had a stroke,
the second old lady had a stroke, but the third old lady’s arms were too
short to reach.

————

This guy walks into a bar, walks up to the bartender and
says, “I’d like a scotch and soda and I’d like to buy that
douche bag at the end of the bar a drink.” The bartender
says, “Hey, she’s a regular and you can’t be talking about
her that way.” The guy says, “Okay, I’d like to buy that
nice, young lady at the end of the bar a drink.” The
bartender says, “That’s more like it,” and he walks up to
the girl and asks her what she wants to drink. She says,
“Vinegar and water.”

————

A man meets up with an old roomate whom he has not seen for many years.
The roomate has had a sex-change operation. “Was it painful?”, asks the former.
“No, not really” says the second. “How about when they cut off your dick?”
“No that really wasn’t the worst of it.” “Really?” says the first. “How
about when they had to create the new hole? That must have been painful.”
“No the worst part was when they stuck the straw in my ear and sucked out half
my brains.”

————–

Why did God give women nipples?
To make suckers out of men.

Why did the Detroit Lions hire two nuns and a prostiture for the new season?
Because they needed two tight ends and a wide receiver.

Why are clams like women?
When the red tide comes, you don’t eat them.

How does a man know when he’s eaten pussy well?
When he wakes up in the morning and his face looks like a
glazed doughnut.

Did you hear about the new video game for women only, called Dick-Man?
You put a quarter in and get fucked.

I’ve got a joke so funny it’ll make your breast fall off:
Oh…I see you’ve already heard it.

What do you call a virgin on a waterbed?
A cherry float.

What do you do when your Kotex catches fire?
Throw it on the floor and tampon it.

What’s 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1?
Bo Derek getting older.

Did you hear about the new douche powder made of alum, LSD, and Kentucky
Fried Chicken batter?
It’s uptight, outasight, and finger-lickin’ good.

What’s the difference between a light bulb and a pregnant woman?
You can unscrew a light bulb.

What do fat girls and mopeds have in common?
They’re both fun to ride until a friend see you.

Why are women giving up bowling for screwing?
The balls are lighter and you don’t have to change your shoes.

What’s the difference between a job and a wife?
After five years, the job still sucks.

How do you make paper dolls?
Screw an old bag.

What’s the white stuff you find in women’s panties?
Clitty litter.

Bumber sticker: Support E.R.A. – make him sleep on the wet spot.

What do you call a rehabilitation home for ex-prostitutes?
An all-the-way house.

Definition of a wife: “An attachment you screw on the bed to get the
housework done.”

How are an oven and a woman alike?
You have to get them both hot before you can stick the meat in.

Remember what’s worse than getting raped by Jack the Ripper? (Getting
fingered by Captain Hook.) Well, you know what’s worse than that?
Getting eaten out by Jaws.

What’s the purpose of a bellybutton?
To put your gum in on the way down.

Why was the stamp commemorating prostitution so unpopular?
You had to pay an extra ten cents to lick it.

What’s the difference between a hormone and an enzyme?
You can’t hear an enzyme.

How do you make a hormone?
Put sand in the Vaseline.

What’s a cunt that talks back?
An answering cervix.

What do you give an eighty-year-old woman for her birthday?
Mikey … He’ll eat anything.

What do you call a woman who uses too much contraceptive cream?
A spermicidal maniac.

Why do women have legs?
So they don’t leave snail tracks on linoleum floors.

What do you call a hooker with no legs?
A nightcrawler.

What do you call a girl who’s just been run over by a car?
Patty.

Why do female parachutists always wear pantyhose?
So they won’t whistle.

How do you tell when a woman is wearing pantyhose?
If she farts, her ankles will swell.
…End of the part1. To be continued..

I wanted to thank you for that nice exercise video you sent me. I was
really surprised to find it in my stocking…I mean…at 36 24 35…I didn’t
feel chubby! But the phone lines were down this morning, and I was bored
so I tried it out for a lark….it WAS a LARK!!!!

I got into my leotards and leg warmers and started the tape. Good
old warm-ups…yuck!!…but this tape has some damn good looking dudes
doing the exercises…and I got….”warmed up” as I watched. I even felt
a little kinky doing the pelvic rocks as I watched their pelvises tilt
provacatively towards my own. My gaze remained riveted on their pelvises
as Jane began the arerobics. Through their stretchie suits I could barely
make the outline of a certain muscle that I thought could use some exercise.
…damn…better get back to work! 1-2-3-4 arms front…arms back…arch
out that chest…push it out! …well Jane…I’m thrusting my chest out
as arched as I can…can’t you see those taut nipples pointing at those
hairy chests beside you?!!!?? I’ld like to lick their nipples each
time they arch them towards me!

But its a little warm in all this…I’m sliding off the leg warmers
and unbuttoning my leotard. The background music is nice…reminds me of
this time I was with this guy in his car…well, never mind.
1-2-3-4 better follow the steps turn right 3-4…oh…lordy…look at HIM!
There is this gorgeous hunk of man working on my phone lines…well…
actually it seems he’s more interested in playing peeping Tom! And
he didn’t catch me looking…I think I’ll have a little fun with him!!
Besides…these dudes on the tape have been totally ingnoring me!
Instead of moving my arms around in circles..I’ll let my hands circle
my breasts as I rock my chest back and forth in time to the music…
oh, yes…he’s still watching! I wonder if he’ll notice me licking my
lips…mmmmmmm….

Ah…back to the pelvic rock again…guess I’ll point mine towards the
window as I pretend to keep watching the screen. My hands start on my
hips but move toward my thighs with each rock…my hands are just reaching
under the leotard as Jane swithches to floor exercises. I’m really putting
on a show now as I unbutton all my buttons and caress my breasts thru my
bra…yeah…this’ll make him HOT!!! Now my hands are roaming up and
down my thighs and I too have gotten very HOT…my breathing has changed
and I no longer want to tease…I want that man…NO ..I NEED HIM…NOW!!
I look at him and our eyes lock this time and he smiles wolfishly.
I beckon with my finger but he just smiles at me…and rakes his eyes
over my wanton body. Now HE pretends he’s working…but he’s still
peeking!!!

Two can play this game! I closed the curtains and waited…hoping.
The door bell rang! “can I have a drink of water” “Please do cum in”
I gave him his water then turned to open the door to let him out. HE
grabbed me then and said he wanted to do a few exercises with me. He
had the strongest tannest arms and I wanted him…so I took him into
the exercise room and started on warm-ups. I exercised my tongue on
his lips and his salty, musky neck. He quickly joined me in these
routines..as we deviated quickly from Jane’s routines. His strong
and gentle hands began to explore my hungry body…my nipples arched
longinly for his touch…I moaned when he found them. He caressed
them with his hands…then explored them with his tongue, sending
shivers throughout my body…when he took each nipple in his mouth
and sucked it was too much. I became so hot and so dizzy, I begged
him to stop. Instead he continued to suck while his fingers drifted
down and under my leotard. He felt around for my clit as I greedily
guided my clit to his lovin fingers. I needed it then. Sucking
and stroking he took me higher and higher..no chance for a breath
my clit hot and swollen soon exploded its passion climaxing for
what seemed forever!! Damn it was good! Thank You Mister!!!

I asked if there was anything I could do to repay him…and of
course he was ready with an answer. He took off his jeans and stood
over me. He was ready! Through the bottoms of his red Boxers I
saw his gleaming hardness. I got up on my knees for a better look
and pulled the boxers down to expose his want. I quickly gave him
a “blow job” breathing lightly over the lenghth of his shaft. He
responded by moving his dick closer to my mouth…”suck me…please”
I kissed the tip then wrapped my tongue aroungd his head…as he
began to moan. I continued feathering his shaft with my tongue
as I felt his need increase. He begged me to take it all in and
I relented. He was so hot he began to thrust into my mouth… I put
an end to that. I held his hips steady as I slowly sucked his weapon
deep into my throat, sliding it out, sucking it deep. When I was ready
I increased the tempo. He soon spurted with joy.

AS he rested himself I finished undressing and demanded equal
time! He laughed and said we should be even already but that as he
was in a very generous mood I should prepare myself. But I wasn’t
prepared for such an onslought! He started with my lips and ears
and my neck…teased my nipples and then totally mastered me with
his attentions to my clit. He used his fingers, his toes, his teeth
and his tongue…and what a tongue…he had me so high I never knew
if I was cuming or going…I know I did a lot of cuming…Then he
gave me a very wet sloppy kiss and entered me with his hard cock.
I wouldn’t have thought that I had any energy left to respond.
But after a few deep thrust, an answering need grew in me. My walls
responded trying to capture his higness as he drew back after each
new thrust. He positioned himself so that the thrust was greatest
near my clit. Each time he thrust a surge of shivers raked my body…
I was climbing higher and higher again nearing the places he had
already driven me. He had total control and held himself back till
he felt me climax…then he spent himself with 3 great deep strokes
and we lay spent in each others arms.

I must admit, it WAS a GREAT workout!!! Eat your heart out, Jane!!!

Love,
Sadie.

We were attired as typical tourists: they were in swim wear; I was
wearing a flat Bahamian straw hat, aloha shirt and walking shorts, and Ellen
was attired in a white sundress with a broad yellow ribbon tied into a
headband around her black hair. Now, as Ellen laughed at a joke, the ribbon’s
long ends were flapping about in the warm breeze. It was difficult making
conversation above the pounding surf and whistling wind.

Jeff, a brawny six-foot-plus with a booming voice, leaned across the
table and asked, “You here in a boat?” His reddish hair was tousled by the
breeze. His stunning blond wife, Virginia, was leaning back in a sun-chair,
which squeaked as she fidgeted and appraised us.

“We flew over,” I told him. Two years before, we’d been here in our
twenty-foot boat. A troublesome storm convinced me I’d never take anyone
else in a small craft, so this time we’d flown commercial, as we have each
time since. “We’re checked in at the hotel.”

Jeff gulped his drink, gestured toward the distant docks, and murmured,
“We’re staying at the marina. They charge an arm and a leg to hook up to
electricity over there. We’re down here from Texas. Where you from?” When I
told him, he responded, “Yeah, well your state’s doing a lot better than mine.
You have Disney World and a state lottery. We have these closed down oil
wells and one hell of a lot of empty offices. We’re thinking of moving to
Florida.”

I grinned, “Doesn’t make Floridians too happy to hear that. Too many
people coming in now. I tell people who’re thinking of moving there that
alligators come out of the lakes at night and drag away little babies.” He and
Virginia chuckled.

Ellen’s a natural conversationalist, but now she was particularly
animated; she’d won them over. Jeff invited us for a tour on their sloop to an
out-island. We declined, explaining that we’d made reservations for an early
dinner at a local calypso club, so Jeff offered, “O-kay, what if we make it an
evening trip, around 7, 7:30? Think you could make that, ol’ buddy?”

I was considering it when Ellen grabbed my arm and blurted, “Come ON,
Bill, let’s DO it!” Turning to Jeff and Virginia, she smiled, “Takes him
forever to make changes in plans!”

I grinned, “Sounds like a great idea.”

That evening, over dinner, Ellen admitted her excitement. I’d noticed her
observing Jeff’s handsome, muscular features at the cabana. She remarked, “I
think they have MORE than just a tour in mind. We’ll see.” We skipped the
floorshow, donned our swim suits in the hotel room, and walked down to the
harbor where Jeff’s 38-foot sloop bobbed amid a line of boats at the unpainted
docks.

Virginia was tossing crumbs at a flock of seagulls swooping and
squawking around her. Jeff looked up from his blue canvas deck chair and
acknowledged,”You’re right on time.” He cast off as soon as we climbed aboard.
The Atlantic was now red beneath the setting sun. I noticed Ellen and Bill
stealing glances at the other now and then, until finally, they were openly
staring. When she turned away, Jeff gazed at her long legs and full,
half-exposed breasts thrusting out beneath the one-piece black suit, completely
bare on the sides except for four thin black ribbons on each side securing the
front and back.

By the time Jeff cut the engines, a half mile from the island, stars were
blinking like diamonds on black velvet. This close to the island, the five-
foot waves we’d plowed through most of the way had calmed. The waters’
crests, silver beneath the moonlight, softly slapped against the hull. The sloop
rocked gently as Virginia and Ellen clambered up the galley stairs to the
deck. Jeff anchored as we stared at the scene off the bow. Beneath the puffs
of gleaming clouds, the island seemed to float on the midnight-blue waters.

Virginia stood on her toes, stretching her arms, as she said, “This
breeze is wonderful!” She casually reached to unhook the top to her red and
white striped bikini; that isn’t unusual for boaters when the sun’s up, but
this was night. Ellen smiled as if to say, “I told you so.” I stared at
Virginia’s breasts, firmed by exercize. Her legs were as long and well-formed
as Ellen’s. She stretched again, her blond hair blowing in the soft warm
gusts. Outlined by the Bahamian moon, she looked like a goddess.

So Ellen slipped out of her suit. She stood nude alongside Virginia, who
turned to evaluate the similarity of their figures; “You’re beautiful,” she
told Ellen, staring down at Ellen’s shaved mound. The contrast between
Virginia, the half-nude blond, and Ellen, the nude brunette, was stunning.

Jeff’s engorged manhood had been evident even before then. But now,
appraising them, he smiled, turning to me as he whispered, “Are you two
swingers? You see, Virginia isn’t, but she’s a ‘watcher,’ and if you are,
we’re interested.” Then, he added, as if I might misunderstand, “I mean I’m
straight, not gay.”

I grinned, almost laughing. I could hardly wait for his reaction when I
told him, “Actually, Jeff, I’m a watcher too. Think Virginia would be jealous
if she saw you with Ellen, while your wife and I watched?”

When we told Ellen and Virginia, the coincidence seemed neither as
humorous nor as surprising to them as I thought it was. I learned later that
Jeff and Virginia had met many other agreeable couples during their travels.

We made small talk as if no one had mentioned “watching.” Ellen stared
at Jeff’s face and body, occasionally looking down at Jeff’s penis bulging
beneath his red biniki trunks. Under a pretense that we going down the stairs
to turn on the stereo, we made our way down to the dimness of the sleeping
quarters where moonlight streamed through a line of portholes. Virginia and I
stood in the doorway. Jeff and Ellen sat on the bunk, looking through compact
disks, selected one, and inserted it into the overhead stereo as Virginia poured
wine. When Ellen passed a wine glass to Jeff, their hands brushed. I could
almost feel the electricity as their eyes locked. Ellen’s soft breasts heaved.
Setting aside the glass on a bunkside table, Jeff leaned to kiss her neck,
moving down to her breasts. She moaned lowly, her lips trembling.

Virginia nuzzled her breasts against my side as I put my arm around her.
Leaning into the doorjam, we gaped, breathing heavily. Jeff and Ellen melded
in a deep kiss, their arms entertwined. Ellen’s hips rotated softly in desire as
she lay alongside Jeff. Virginia looked up at me, her lips trembling, her blue
eyes wild with passion, as she muttered, “God, aren’t they beautiful?” I
agreed, my shaft swelling beneath my trunks. Ellen, her nipples taut,
disengaged to slide to floor on her knees. Her lips grazed his thighs. Gulping,
as if in fear, she took Jeff’s long, raging cock in her mouth. He closed his
eyes, groaning, as her full, pale lips slid over his glistening member. Tears of
passion welled in Ellen’s eyes as she moaned. Her tongue and slender fingers
glided along his dark rubbery shaft.

Now, as Virginia peeled off her bottoms, her hand was massaging her
clitoris. I slipped out of my trunks as I stroked my hardness. Virginia pressed
against me. I slithered an arm around her, cupping a breast, her nipple
standing out like a spike through my fingers. Ellen’s eyes were now wide with
passion as he thrust into her greedy mouth. The intensity of their tempo
increased. Ellen moaned in rapture. His cock had ballooned to massive
proportions, straining her lips as she whimpered.

Withdrawing from her mouth, Jeff lifted her to the bunk beneath a line
of portholes. He kneeled on the floor between her long legs, kissing her
shaved mound. Ellen wailed in desire! Her hips gyrated beneath his tongue’s
manipulations. Her body quaking, she locked her thighs about his head, lost in
their own distant universe of adulterous passion. The smell of their lust
permeated the warm night air.

Virginia placed her arms around my waist, her hips grinding her clitoris
against my leg. “They’re so beautiful,” she breathed ecstatically. She looked
down, her lips trembling as I pumped my shaft.

Jeff’s strong arms enveloped Ellen’s quivering body. He hovered above her
splayed legs, his shaft swaying above her pussy which was quivering up to
touch it. Her lips were parted, her eyes wild and fearful of his large
instrument pushing apart her vaginal folds. She wrapped her legs around his
hips, drawing him deeply within, and yelled out in painful pleasure. Her
vagina was stretching to accommodate his large tool. They shared a sigh as he
buried his full length.

Whimpering, Ellen turned to watch us. Virginia had grasped my cock and
was stroking it as I squeezed the fullness of her breasts. The sight drove Ellen
into ecstasy as her arms enveloped Jeff. She bucked against him, meeting every
thrust into her steaming cave. Virginia’s nostrils flared, her breath huffing,
her mouth open in wild desire. I felt a kinship with Virginia as we watched
our respective mates, united in sin, her husband’s cock plunging into my wife’s
vagina; she mewed, “Oh, god, Bill, don’t you FEEL it happening BETWEEN
them, between US?”

And, yes, I did. Virginia’s soft fist pumped my shaft as she grinded her
blond mound against my leg. Her lips brushed my neck and ears.

Ellen’s head thrashed from side to side, her wide eyes rolling as Jeff’s
thickness filled her. She wailed as her tremoring arms encircled his neck, her
hips lifting to meet her lover’s. Her groin swirled beneath his fervid fucking
as she threw back her head, pleading for him not to stop. His jaw slackened
as he stared down at her, his eyes glazed with lust. Then, Ellen screamed, “Oh
GOD Jeff, I’m going to COME! Please come WITH me!” She mewed helplessly,
her body shivering with the building climax.

Virginia’s hand pumped furiously as she looked up to me, parting her lips.
We kissed deeply. Everyone was moaning, sharing the climactic thunder that
was engulfing us in an emotional hurricane.

At the last moment, Virginia spread her long, taut legs, guiding my cock
into her creaming depths. She screamed in pleasure. Then it happened, the
sexual energy crackling throughout the cabin! I exploded as everyone was
wailing; Ellen and Virginia were crying and writhing madly. Virginia fell to her
knees, taking my length deeply into her mouth. Ellen and Jeff now turned on
their stomachs to watch as Virgina brought me again to hardness, her hair
tossing as her lips slid along my full length. I’d lost track of time until my
semen burst into Virginia’s throat. Ellen and Jeff were applauding. Virginia
bumped to the floor, her arms around my knees, as we turned to look at our
spouses on the bunk. They were laughing.

That was the only time that either Virginia or I had experienced even
that slight an adultery with anyone. Neither of us were sure our spouses truly
understood, but what we had was just perfect.

I’d been mulling over the physical evidence we had… and it
wasn’t much.

My attention had shifted to the booze as it made oily swirls
through the smoky amber, just like it always did. I’d heard the
tap of high-heels, and unconsciously glanced up and smiled as
Janine carried a tray of fresh drinks to the table in the corner.
Somehow, she always drew my attention. It was her long tapered
legs I suppose, or maybe the way she filled out her blouse.

I’d been stopping in to have a drink a few times a week ever
since I moved into the neighborhood. A nice enough place, but
nothing special. I suppose it was a combination of their chili
and Janine’s muscular calves that kept me coming back. It’s
unbelievable when you think how fast a year can pass. One day
blending into the next, on and on. ‘Maybe your booze consumption
has something to do with the way the days run together,’ I
thought, as I sipped my drink.

I was always coming up with brilliant ideas like that. “Stop
smoking. Stop drinking. Start exercising. Win the Lottery.
Write a book about some interesting case and make a million.” I
was a real fountain of great ideas.

So far tonight, Janine had been to my table twice. The first
time to deliver a glass of my usual, and the second when I waved
her over to pay the check. Both times we played eye games, and
flirted, like always.

I’d gathered up my raincoat, from the empty chair across the
table, where I’d tossed it in a sodden heap. I said my goodbyes
and gave Janine a wink, . I was in the process of shrugging on
the soggy coat, and trying to open the front door at the same
time, when it crashed open…. And everything changed.

Like I said, I was leaning forward, shrugging on my beat-up
London Fog, so the door smashed into my forehead, and I fell flat
on my ass. I knew what had happened, so I looked up to see what
kind of ill-mannered son-of-a-bitch had whacked my melon. Little
did I know…

From my vantage point on the floor, my eyes flicked up and saw
what looked like a full acre of firm, tapered, nylon encased
inner thigh that went up and up until it disappeared in the
darkness under a short navy blue skirt.

“I’m so sorry,” were the first words she said, as I scrambled to
my feet.

“Forget it,” I growled, as the adrenalin rush started to pass,
and a whole different set of hormones kicked in. I brushed
myself off, with a little help from the lady, and mumbled
something about getting another drink.

“Oh, let me buy,” she said. “It’s all my fault!”

“Okay, okay,” I grumbled. “That was my table over there,” I
added pointing.

She set out walking toward our objective, and I followed. About
this time it struck me that this lady didn’t walk. She
“moved”… What I had taken for a navy blue skit was really the
bottom half of a knit dress that hugged her body like the skin
fits a grape. And the skirt wasn’t a typical knit. It was split
up the side, nearly to the hip.

I suppose my mouth dropped open, because when I checked out the
guys at the bar, that’s what had happened to them… We all
looked like frogs catching flies.

My attention quickly shifted back to the lady’s back, or rather
her backside that shifted alluringly with every step. Her skirt
ended above mid-thigh, and her trim ankles, sculptured calves,
and trim tapered thighs flashed, as the split displayed nearly
their full length, in the subdued lighting, as that tight knit
bun-hugging, ass-emphasizing skirt showcased her tight, rounded,
undulating butt; that moved like two well-oiled footballs.

She turned, as she reached ‘my table’, pointed at a chair, and
raised her eyebrow, asking if her choice of a seat was
acceptable. I nodded. She sat, as I approached, and crossed her
long thoroughbred legs, as her skirt rode even higher on her
thighs.

I sat, and I guess I stared, because she asked if I was all
right.

All right was hardly the term to describe my condition. If you
placed your emphasis on HARD, it would been much more accurate.

I waved to Janine, who by now was glaring daggers at me, and as
she made her way to ‘our table’, I asked my companion what she
would like.

“Black Jack… And have her bring the bottle.”

As we waited for a now surly Janine to return with our drinks, I
introduced myself… “By the way, I’m Eric… Eric Thornquist.”
I always was real smooth with the ladies.

“Nice to bump into you, Eric,” she laughed. “I’m Candice.”

“I’d enjoy bumping into you too, Candice… repeatedly, but next
time I’d use something other than my head.”

She laughed, at my attempt at humor. Little did she know how
honest I was being. Shit, I’d been checking her out, during our
stroll to the table (which I thoroughly enjoyed), and again as
we faced each other across the expanse of ‘our’ heavy oak table.

She was about 5′-7″ and probably weighed 125-130 soaking wet.
(Was that a Freudian slip?). Her hair was long and blonde,
falling in soft waves until it ended, below her shoulders. Her
complexion was flawless, and her lips were full and friendly.
The top of the dress accentuated the rich fullness of her
breasts, and maybe it was the chill, but just saw a hint of her
nipples, when the light was just right. And her face was as
perfect as the rest. Open, and honest, with sparkling green eyes,
there wasn’t even a hint of pinched meanness. Maybe my luck was
finally changing.

“So, Mr. Eric Thornquist. What are you doing here tonight?” she
queried.

“Just stopped for a drop of the usual,” I answered. “And you?”

“I saw this place written up in the Arts and Entertainment
Section a while ago, and thought I’d give it a try. I thought it
had a cute name…”

“You mean, The Broken Drum?”

“Yes, but that’s not the cute part. The cute part is the
rest..’You Can’t Beat it’. That’s what the article said too.
That you couldn’t beat their steaks.”

“They are pretty good,” I answered lamely, and then plunged on,
with what I thought was a suave segue. “But, by yourself? What
about your significant other?”
…End of the part1. To be continued..