My wife Mimi and I have been married for about eight years now. I met Mimi during our last year of college. With her long blonde hair and great tits, it was love and lust at first sight.
It was hard to keep my hands off her great body, but I restrained myself during our first three dates, just trying to be a nice guy and not go too fast. But our next date was at the local motel. After we checked in I still made an effort to play it cool and not undress her too fast. Then she asked me to go out and get us some wine to drink. She said she would be all ready when I got back, and I would like the surprise too.
I was gone for about half an hour or so, and when I came back to the room it was dark, except for a small light in the bathroom. Mimi was lying on the bed, and I could just barley see that she was doing something. All of a sudden she threw back the sheet and I got the surprise of the night. She was dressed in a black corset and nylons, and she was rubbing her pussy. She said I was taking too long, and then told me to get down and lick her pussy. It was already soaked, and soon she was coming all over me.
I’d had no idea that she was that wild and ready. I ended up fucking her all night long, and again the next morning. It was then that she told me that I’d better be able to keep her happy, which meant keeping her pussy full of come.
I celebrated my 50th birthday by going on a fishing trip with some of my friends. As I was leaving, my beautiful wife Terri gave me a passionate kiss and then whispered into my ear: “No jerking off on your trip, sweetie. I want you to save a week’s worth of come for a memorable birthday celebration when you get home.”
The fishing was fantastic, and I enjoyed the trip even more as I eagerly anticipated a special homecoming reunion with my wife.
When I arrived home, Terri told me to pack my bags for a weekend getaway at a bed and breakfast in a little resort town, where she had reserved a special room separate from the main house. We had stayed there before, and we loved the waterfront location and the easy access to the local bars and restaurants.
After we arrived and got settled in the room, Terri asked me to make a round of drinks. She then gave me a mischievous smile and asked me to show her which of our sex toys and supplies I had brought along for the weekend. I had chosen her two favorite vibrators, a couple of issues of Penthouse Letters and a few X-rated DVDs. When I showed them to her, my sexy wife gave me a wicked smile and said that was all fine and dandy, but she had brought some supplies of her own. She reached into her black leather bag and pulled out a shiny pair of handcuffs.
My husband Ron and I operate a business together, and I often travel to meet with clients in different cities. This allows me the opportunity to engage in my favorite activity, which most people would call cheating. But it’s not cheating, since Ron and I agreed from the beginning that I would be free to engage in extramarital sex, as long as I told him what I had done, keeping no secrets.
When I found myself stuck in Kansas City one Friday evening, having to wait over the weekend to meet prospective clients on Monday, I decided to get dressed and go down to the lounge instead of sitting in my room all alone. I jumped in the shower to freshen up and closed my eyes as I soaped myself, thinking of the wonderful lovemaking I’d shared with my husband the previous night.
I was kind of tired, and was planning to just have a few drinks and come back up to bed, so I put on some basic underwear and a simple cotton dress. I’d called my husband earlier, and he’d said he hoped my weekend wouldn’t be too boring. I’d told him I could always make something happen if I needed to, and that I might troll for cock on Saturday night, but I wasn’t looking for anything at the moment.
I was having a very sexy dream when the alarm went off at a quarter to three, so I responded eagerly when my husband, after silencing the shrill alarm, rolled over and gently cupped my already-moist pussy. With not much time before his buddy Rod would arrive to pick him up to go bird-hunting, I urged him to hurry and fuck me.
Even after nearly 20 years Pete has never grown tired of fucking me. This morning he thrust eagerly into me for five lovely minutes, bringing me to orgasm moments before unloading his cream.
He went to shower, and I put on panties and a robe to go down and start breakfast for the men, which I’d offered to do since Rod’s wife was fixing their lunches. I’d fixed a breakfast casserole the night before, so all I had to do was stick it in the oven I’d set to preheat early. I already had the table set, so there wasn’t much for me to do except have a cup of coffee and wait.
I’d just poured my coffee when Rod tapped on the back door. I let him in and poured him coffee, but when I told him Pete was in the shower he leapt into action, pressing me against the counter and locking lips with me. I wasn’t totally surprised, as he’d been trying to get in my pants ever since Pete and he became good friends at least 15 years ago.
I was trying to finish some boring paperwork when the receptionist buzzed and said that there was a man on the phone identifying himself as “Zach, a childhood friend from Nebraska.” I thought a moment, then said I couldn’t remember any such person and hung up. She buzzed right back and said, “He said he got your number from Clara, your mother.”
I said I’d take the call, figuring I could just hang up if it was some nut. It took a few hints, but I finally realized that this was my “first boyfriend,” so to speak. He was a neighbor’s only child, the same as I was, so we were sort of thrown together in our rural area—until his family moved away when we were about ten. Being raised on farms, we knew how animals reproduced and it didn’t take much exploring to figure out how it works for humans. We never did actually do it, for fear of making a baby and getting into big trouble, but after he moved away I cried myself to sleep many nights thinking I’d lost the love of my life.
We talked for 40 minutes. Zach was married with four kids. I told him I was married but had no children. He said he was going to be in my area in a few weeks with a few days between appointments and would love to see me for lunch if at all possible. I took his office number and said I’d get back to him in a couple of days after checking my schedule.
I thought about talking to my husband about it. Alfie and I have a relationship that’s somewhere between “open marriage” and “don’t ask, don’t tell.” We’re both well aware that we’ve both “strayed,” and we find that it works best if we don’t talk about it too much. In this case, though, I was concerned that since Alfie knew about my ancient history with Zach, if he should find out that I was meeting him, or had met him, he might feel that I was concealing something from him.
We had trouble with our car, so I called the mechanic. He said to bring it to the shop and leave it overnight. He would drive me home, and the next day I could take a cab to pick up the car.
I asked my wife to take it to the shop. She said okay and left. Three hours later she returned and gave me a big kiss. She sat down across the room from me. While we watched TV and talked, I noticed her skirt was nearly up at her waist. She opened her legs and I saw that her cunt was wet—she wasn’t wearing panties! I went over, stuck a finger in her cunt and finger-fucked her, then licked my finger. She tasted good enough to eat! So I stripped and had her strip, and as I laid down she sat over my face.
Her hot pussy smelled like it’d been fucked. I said, “Whose pie am I eating?”
“The mechanic’s, Jeff,” she said. “I saw him taking a pee, and his dick was long and his balls were full. When he saw me watching, he kissed me, pulled my skirt up and my blouse off, then stripped and took my bra and panties off. He laid me down and put a pillow under my butt. I raised my legs as he slid in until his big balls slapped my ass. He fucked me for an hour, with me coming like crazy, then pulled out of my stretched pussy and drove me home. On the way he said, ‘Tomorrow I’ll pick you up and take you back to the shop.’”
My wife had her first affair about three years after we were married (15 years ago), with my best friend Daniel—and his wife Donna. Donna is the same age as Pattie (25 at the time) but a couple of inches taller (about five-six). Pattie enjoyed the sex, and in the years since then we have gotten together with Daniel and Donna on average every two weeks for a sexually charged evening.
Pattie only fucked other people when I was present to watch, which she knew charged up our sex lives. We didn’t consider it cheating since both parties were aware of what was going on.
A couple of years ago the four of us went out nightclubbing. The girls were wearing black pants suits with pantyhose underneath. Neither was wearing panties. When we arrived at the nightclub, Daniel challenged them to remove their pants and wear just the jacket part of the suits with their pantyhose. At first they said no, but after a little coaxing (and a little drinking) they relented and removed their pants, thinking their tops were long enough to cover their asses.
This may have been true if they were standing still or walking from one place to another, but when they were dancing, a person on the side could clearly see their bare asses through their sheer black pantyhose. Many men at the nightclub stared at them all the time they danced, watching for glimpses of those beautiful bare asses. I’m sure there was a lot of hard wood in the club that night!
I love westerns, which exasperates my wife, who’s an anthropologist who’s worked a lot with Native American tribes and gets nuts when I go on about “cowboys and Indians.” It’s childish, but she gets so serious that I want to be childish.
Even now, as a tenured professor, Margaret spends part of each summer (a couple of weeks to a couple of months) “in the field,” at various reservations. I used to go along but found it boring. I may have deliberately embarrassed her to encourage her to not want me along.
But then when she came back from her solo trips she often went on about men she supposedly “worked” with in a way that made me wonder.
She looks incredibly hot for her age, or any age. She looks a good 20 years younger than she is, and has this way of getting people’s confidence. Call me crazy, but I kept hearing her rhapsodize about the men’s hard bodies and how agile and athletic they were, how soulful and sensitive, and she got this look in her eyes, a gleam that went out the second she glanced at me.
Last summer Margaret was invited back to a reservation she’d visited a lot, producing a paper the tribe had used to attract investment that brought a big boost in living conditions. They were celebrating and wanted her to be the guest of honor.
I always wanted to see my wife Olivia, who is 38 with a dynamite figure, pose for pictures tied hand and foot, looking completely helpless. But I was embarrassed to ask her, feeling she wouldn’t be too keen on the idea.
To make it still harder, the person I wanted to take the pictures was our neighbor Chuck, who does a lot of photography but is no favorite of Olivia’s. She just didn’t like him. (I had no hang-ups with another man seeing my wife’s equipment. To be honest, I liked the idea.) It took me weeks to get up the nerve to talk to Olivia, until one evening while we were having hot sex, I carefully brought up wanting pictures of her tied and helpless.
“Helpless?” she said. “Are you nuts?” I thought she’d take my head off! “Getting photographed tied up is sort of kinky, but did you really dream that I’d let you tie me up and do whatever?”
My wife and I live in a small college town, with both children now in college. Teresa is a department head at the college, while I teach science at a local middle school. I often tease her that she’s the chairperson in our family as well. She’s a Latina, and has always been a strong-willed, no-bullshit type of person.
Teresa’s extremely attractive, a dark Latin beauty, and keeps her athletic body in peak condition with regular workouts and running. Over the years she’s had close relationships with several male colleagues, and I often wondered if any of them “crossed the line.” The thought of her writhing with passion beneath another man has tormented me—and sometimes, confusingly, titillated me as well.
We live in a gated townhouse community but still own the small house just off the college campus which was our home when we were first married and the kids were small and money was tight. Now we rent it out, and we also rent out the small pool house behind it, which we converted into a studio apartment. For the past semester Teresa was renting the pool house to an Austrian graduate art student named Bruno. I had never met him, but Teresa described him laughingly as “not much of an artist but a whole lot of hunk.”
Bruno often got behind on rent, and Teresa always gave him an extension. Since she handles the money in our family, I said nothing about it. One night he called and said he’d just sold a painting and had the money to catch up on his rent. She said she would come by for it the next morning, a Saturday.
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