My wife Kim said she wanted to do something special for our anniversary, so she asked a good friend of hers named Delia if she would film us making love. She told me Delia was gay, so I shouldn’t feel uncomfortable about it, which didn’t really make a lot of sense to me, but I wasn’t about to argue with her.
Delia said she would be glad to do it, and on the day of our anniversary she showed up around five, wearing cutoff sweat pants and a halter top. Delia was a knockout brunette, about five feet seven with the figure of a model.
Kim had had a couple of drinks beforehand, so while I showed Delia how to work the camera, my wife got herself undressed and onto the bed, and actually started playing with herself. She looked totally hot, and I quickly took off my own clothes and went to join her.
This all took place about three years ago. My wife Jill was in her eighth month of pregnancy at the time, and with her swollen belly she looked like she would pop any day. It was her first pregnancy, and she was very proud and excited—so much so that she asked me if I would ask our next door neighbor Len, who was an amateur photographer, to take some pictures of her in her swollen condition. Len of course was very pleased to have the opportunity to demonstrate his skills.
We planned the photo session for a Sunday afternoon. Jill was looking really sharp and sort of sexy in her maternity outfit as we waited for Len to show up. The bright yellow dress she had on was rather short, and as she sat across from me on the couch I could see her bare thighs above her dark stocking tops. It was a very pleasant sight, and I felt my cock begin to stir in my pants. As Jill crossed her legs, exposing still more of her bare thighs, I wondered if she might consider canceling the photos so I could have sex with her; but even as I formulated these thoughts Len showed up with his camera, so I was stuck with my hard-on.
It started as another of our block parties, which always feature plenty of good food and booze, and pretty good company—if you’ve had enough booze. My husband always liked to joke that I could be found “making the rounds with a cocktail in her hand,” which I suppose he thought was funny. That day I was wearing a modest but flimsy short dress with spaghetti straps holding the top just above my boobs. I was bare-legged except for a pair of sandals, and thought I looked pretty sexy for 41.
For a sedate suburban block there are a surprising number of cute guys, making me wish, as always, that their wives weren’t my at-least-supposed friends. But there’s no law against flirting, so that’s what I was doing when I noticed a suspicious conversation—I’d almost describe it as “conspiratorial”—taking place between Walt (my husband) and our host, Enzo, plus another neighbor, Patrick—as it happens, two hunks I’d had my eye on for ages. I didn’t know what was going on, but I had a bad feeling.
I tried to put it out of my mind, though, and enjoy the party. But an hour later, when a lot of the guests were leaving, my husband, grabbed my wrist and said, “I need to talk to you,” and started to almost drag me upstairs. I had a good idea of what was going on, and when we got upstairs and I saw light coming out of an open door at the end of the hallway, I knew where it was supposed to be going on.
Pat and I have been going strong for over 40 years and are still two horny people who make love at least twice a week. Often on Saturday nights we go with two or three couples either to a local club or to one of our homes. Either way, before the night is over we have a fling with all the others. It’s worked for us because we all believe jealousy and dishonesty are first cousins.
However, Pat and I only act like this while we’re with those friends—except if Pat has to travel for a meeting or to buy more goods for her shop. She always tries and mostly succeeds at finding a young guy who’s also away from home. She’s told me all the stories—like the time she spent a whole week with this guy in his early 30s.
In her shop Pat employs two young wives to assist her, one in the morning, the other in the afternoon, and in the afternoon a young man comes in for two or three hours to help with the heavy work and keep the stock room in order.
After college my sweetheart and I found jobs in cities near enough to continue our relationship but distant enough to create a problem when we decided to get married. Our solution: to find a cozy place in the country in between the cities where we work.
We moved in right after our honeymoon, just dumping in the boxes of shit from our old apartments. One day I was doing some unpacking while Michelle was at work and inadvertently opened one of her cartons. It was full of videotapes. Intrigued, I carried it to the TV room.
There were 36 numbered tapes. I loaded “No. 1,” and saw Michelle lying naked on the bed in her old apartment masturbating! As I sat captivated, the camera zoomed in on her glistening vagina and a male voice said, “You like playing with your pretty little pussy, don’t you?”
“I love it!” she said. “But I need to be fucked!” Which shocked me. In our (many) sexual encounters, she never once used foul language.
My friend Gayle had been married to her high school sweetheart for 24 years when she came home unexpectedly one day and caught him with their neighbors’ 20-year-old daughter. She had gotten hysterical and run them both out before packing her bags and leaving that house forever. She had then called me and asked if she could come and stay with us for a while, and of course I said yes.
When she got here the poor woman cried on my shoulder for four days, telling me how she and Cal had always taken their vows very seriously, and had been completely faithful to one another—or so she’d thought. She had never let another man touch her, shooting down anyone who tried until they finally quit. She declared that she thought no man could be trusted, and she then wanted to know how my husband Orin and I had managed to keep our marriage together for so long.
I’m sure I shocked her when I told her that both Orin and I had engaged in intercourse with other people, but never secretly and always with the other’s consent. I told her that I had been with a rather large number of men, while Orin had only found half a dozen women he’d wanted to screw.
We had been on the road about six hours and were making good time on the first day of our two-week vacation. We were out in the middle of nowhere, enjoying the scenery and each other’s company, when I spotted a herd of ponies standing along a fence. In the midst of the group stood a stallion, his long male organ dangling impressively. As we passed by I commented on its size, asking June if she would like it if I had a tool like that. She scoffed and told me not to talk foolishly. “Men don’t get that big!” she declared.
I begged to differ, saying, “I know I’m not that big, but some men are, and some are even bigger.”
She went silent then, and we drove several more miles without speaking before I finally broke the silence, asking her what she was thinking about, “Sex,” was her one-word answer.
“All right,” I responded instantly. “You want to stop for a quickie?”
I laid my head back and relaxed as my husband piloted our BMW through the early afternoon traffic on our way to celebrate our lucky 13th anniversary at a fancy upscale resort. The resort boasted in-room hot tubs and several spas that offered anything you’d ever want. They also had a private golf course, which appealed to us, since we rarely had time to play together. It was costing us a mint, but we had booked a room for a week, which gave us lots of time in which to enjoy ourselves.
Mother Nature had stepped in at just the right time to put our sex life on hold for the previous five days. Of course my period had seldom stood in our way before, but this time I held out, wanting Bill, my husband, to be horny as hell for our private time together.
We were checked in and unpacked by four, and half an hour later were enjoying a cocktail on our spacious private balcony, while checking out the view of the resort’s beautiful grounds. Bill got up to move behind me and began rubbing my shoulders until I leaned forward to allow him access to my back, which he massaged for five minutes or more before I felt him release the hooks of my bra, without going under my top. His hands moved back to my shoulders, then slipped down the front of my top to cup my breasts as he kissed my neck and whispered, “I want to make love to you, sweetheart.”
I could tell the young girl had the hots for my husband the very first day we went out by the pool. It didn’t surprise me, since most young girls have a thing for him, as do women of all ages, and rightly so. At 30 years of age, Kris, a former collegiate swimmer and one-time Olympic hopeful, still has an excellent physique, along with the most beautiful blue eyes and dark blonde hair that you can imagine. He also has a deep bronze-like tan that makes him look like an Adonis.
Kris and I met when he was 21 and I was 35. He had sustained some sports-related injuries to his hamstring and calf, and I was running a very successful sports rehabilitation clinic. I was trying to get him healed in time for the Olympic trials. As it turned out I was not able to achieve that goal, but he took a liking to me and we began dating. He was horny, and it didn’t hurt that I was rich.
We finally married eight years ago, and since then my clinics have made me a millionaire, which is probably why Kris stays with me. Sadly, my sex drive has dwindled over the years, but I encourage him to have fun with other people, as a way of keeping him.
I own a barbershop, and it never ceases to amaze me how pathetic and frustrating most of my customers’ sex lives are. They complain for ever about their lack of satisfaction. I have to tell them their attitudes are wrong.
It’s my good fortune to have a wife with needs as great as mine and a sense of adventure to go with it. Sherry is 50 but has the body of a 30-year-old. One look at her face and you can tell she can be naughty in bed. What really draws guys to her is her big tits. With her narrow back, they look enormous, espe cially when she wears a sling top with a low neckline—her “night on the town” outfit, with black stockings and heels. Her long, silky hair makes quite a package.
There’s nothing more exciting than watching her come on to some young guy who’s turned on by her but nervous because of me. They can’t believe their luck when I say that it’s okay for them to fuck her. I remember one kid about 20 who was on the couch with her and I watched him try to hide a massive hard-on until she made her move and gave him his best blowjob ever. Then she rode him, and he fucked her doggie-style with me watching and waiting my turn at her cunt.
A few months ago Sherry, a licensed beautician, was working in my shop, like she normally does twice a week, and a guy in his 20s came in. I could tell right away she was turned on by him, and I let her do his hair. She had on a tight floral-print blouse and a short tight black skirt with tan pantyhose. Her per fume was enough to give a guy a hard-on. He quickly had an apparent problem, made worse when Sherry bent over to reveal her lace bra and ample cleavage while she cut his hair.
By then I had my next customer and Sherry had this guy at the far end, so I couldn’t pay close attention. I also had my own erection to deal with! At one point I” looked over and saw that she had her hand under the pull over and was giving him a handjob while she cut his hair. He was in heaven. She looked at me and smiled.
Knowing what was next, I” turned my customer so he couldn’t see. Sure enough, on my next glance I saw that Sherry had her head under the pullover, bobbing up and down. She was sucking his cock right in the shop! Luckily he came and she swallowed every drop only a minute before the next customer came in the door. I was so excited, I nearly came in my pants.
An hour later Sherry was at it again. I saw her give another guy a handjob under his pullover while she did his cut. By the end of the day, it was all I could do to contain myself. The second I locked the door to close, we fucked right there on the floor.
Sherry now works in the shop four days a week, and I’ve seen her give countless handjobs and blowjobs, and she even lets a special few get their cock in her pussy in the bathroom or on the floor at closing. Business is boom ing, as is our sex life. We have no plans to retire!—F.H., Toronto, Ontario