The Best Birthday Present Ever

The Best Birthday Present Ever – Chapter 1 – Moving-in day

The move to Philadelphia had gone well. All the furniture was in, and in place. The new house was going to be a wonderful place to bring up the family – a large eight-roomed colonial with roughly two acres of land which, while not secluded, offered a lot of privacy. It had an oversized two-car garage attached, with a sundeck on top, which was accessed through a doorway off the master bedroom, which had its own bathroom. On the opposite side of the bedroom was a large walk-in closet that served as the main closet for Joan and me.

The boys were already around next-door, being looked after by one of our friendly new neighbours, who had two kids of a similar age. There had been a stream of callers all day – some just our new neighbours, calling to get acquainted, and one or two tradesmen, who had spotted the removal van, and were getting their feet in the door, ahead of the opposition.

Joan was dealing with one of them, now – a tall young dark guy, whose laundry truck was parked just a few yards away from the high-sided removal van.

The three moving guys were straightening out the back of their vehicle before they set off back on the long journey to New York state, and I was coming round the side of the van, to say ‘goodbye’ and to give them each a few bucks, as extra thanks for their efforts. They had done a real good job, and built up a great rapport with Joan, my wife, and Ben and Luke, our young sons.

They were talking as they moved things around and I was just reaching the rear of the vehicle when I heard Ray, the oldest one, say – “She’s got the peachiest ass I’ve seen all year. I tell you, when I get home tonight, Shirley’s gonna get some unscheduled fucking, but it’s gonna be Joan’s tits and sexy butt I’ll be thinking about!”

My pace slowed, and I stopped. I turned round. It would just be embarrassing if I walked in on them, now, with them discussing my wife, in that way. Anyway, I was having second thoughts about tipping them, now – talking about my wife like that!

“She’s really something else,” Ray was going on. “I guess she’s Italian, or something like that – really hot-blooded. That long black hair and dark smouldering eyes – and what a body!”

“You know how I’d like to do her?” That was Mike – a tall, rangy 30-year-old with long blonde straggly hair. I stopped again, a strange excitement building up in me. My mouth was drying, and my heart was beating irregularly.

“Up against a wall,” Mike went on. “My hands round these ass-cheeks, her legs clamped round my waist, and my dick sunk real deep inside her until she squealed for mercy!”

“Nah,” responded Ray. “I’d want her bent over, so I could get my hands round those big luscious tits while I shafted her from behind. She’d be even better than that one in Wichita!”

“Wichita?” The question came from Louie, the youngest one, a thin wiry guy barely out of his teens. Ray laughed.

“Ah, that was before your time, Lou. A big redhead – about thirty-five or so. We was just leaving and she came into the van to thank us. Mike chanced his luck and asked for a kiss and she said OK. Well, she really gave him a big one and while she was kissing him, Charlie felt up her ass and she didn’t object and – well, one thing led to another and she ended up naked, gettin’ screwed by all four of us, on the big tarpaulin. Man, that was some job – and she gave us each twenty bucks before we went!”

“Wow!” exclaimed Louie. “D’ya reckon Joan would…?”

“Nah!” laughed Ray. “She ain’t the type. She doesn’t even know how sexy she is. She’s an all-American apple-pie wife and mom – husband gives her a regulation fuck every Saturday night or Sunday morning and, unless some other guy gets to her, to remind her what it’s all about, she’ll just join the PTA and the country club – and just get old and forget!”

“What a tragedy,” said Mike, despondently. “Look at her now, with that laundry guy. He can’t keep his eyes off her cleavage – and she’s got no idea! I can see his boner from here!”

“Naw, you can’t!” laughed Ray.

“Well, no,” confessed Mike, “but five’ll get you ten he’s got one!”

“Yeah,” replied Ray. “Reckon you’re right. Anyways, time we stopped dreamin’ and got out of here. Any sign of the husband yet? I think we should be good for fifty each, just for not screwing his wife!”

I heard the sounds of stuff being moved around and I crept back along the side of the truck, to the front. I looked up the driveway. Joan was still talking to the laundry man. She was looking up at him, and laughing, her hand resting on his bare arm. He was smiling down at her, and I was certain his eyes were taking in the deep valley between her breasts, revealed by the front of her blouse falling forward as she leaned forward to touch his arm.

Then she squeezed his arm, turned and walked back to the house. He, and I, watched as her shapely firm butt swayed from side to side in the loose shorts she wore. Her legs were bare, slim and nicely tanned.

After more than ten years of marriage, having seen your wife through two pregnancies, and all the other ups and downs of domestic life, you do begin to lose the ability to look objectively at your sexual partner and, watching Joan, now, along with the laundry guy – and, probably, the moving guys, as well – I realised that, by any standards, she was one very sexy woman.

Joan is of Greek – not Italian – extraction, but, otherwise, Ray was pretty well right on the button. I had taken her cherry two years before we got married and we had about four years of incredible sex before her first pregnancy. Well, I didn’t actually ‘take her cherry’ – she said she had lost it through cycling – but she insisted I was the first guy she let fuck her, and I had no reason to disbelieve her. But, until she got pregnant, she really made up for lost time and, in those four years, we did everything sexual that a man and a woman can do to each other – almost.

Every part of me explored every part of Joan – and vice versa – apart from one. After a couple of years, I began to wonder what it would be like to slide my rod between Joan’s gorgeous ass cheeks into her tight anal orifice, but, despite her Aegean origins, she steadfastly refused, even at the absolute height of passion. This was a disappointment to me, but her tight cunt, surrounded with its forest of black hair, was always available to my fingers, mouth or cock, and she never failed to bring me to a mind-blowing climax, so I was more than content.

She was also an absolute artist with her luscious mouth and quickly picked up the art of giving me the most incredible blowjobs until I was nearly cross-eyed with ecstasy!

She had two pregnancies in quick succession and, inevitably, I suppose, we began to have other priorities. Her body quickly regained its shape – with the added bonus that her breasts became even larger, her nipples darkening and lengthening, but our sexual encounters became less frequent. I was working very hard and Joan had two young boys to cope with all day and – as Ray had correctly guessed – sex now took place only at weekends and, these days, I realised as I thought about it, not even every weekend …

I followed Joan towards the house. On the way, I passed the laundry man, and we nodded to each other. I noticed he looked slightly embarrassed and guessed he realised I had seen him watching my wife’s ass.

Joan was in the kitchen. I slid an arm round her waist and kissed her cheek. I realised I was more than half-erect and dropped my hand to fondle her buttocks.

“Hi, honey,” she breathed, turning her face to kiss me, briefly, on the mouth. “Did you tip the moving men yet?”

“Oh, no,” I confessed, feeling in my pocket for the twenty-dollar bills.

“Come on and we’ll say goodbye together, then,” said Joan, taking my hand and leading me out again. I followed willingly. If we could see them off quickly, we’d have time for a visit upstairs before the boys came home…… My cock was hardening at the thought.

The guys were closing the back of the van.

“All done, then?” I called, as we approached.

“Yeah, that’s it,” answered Ray, turning and smiling – his smiling broadening when he saw Joan at my side.

“Well, thanks for all you’ve done,” I said – trying to keep out of my mind the image of Ray bending a naked Joan forward at the waist so that he could squeeze her dangling tits while he rammed his dick into her soaking cunt, from the rear.

I handed over the bundle of notes, and shook his hand. His handshake was firm and dry.

“Good luck to both of you in your new home,” he said, smiling.

“Thank you, Ray,” said Joan, her eyes shining as she stepped forward. He held out a hand, but Joan put her hands on his shoulders and offered her face for a kiss. With a very brief glance at me, Ray put his arms round her and kissed her on the lips. She came close enough into him for her breasts to flatten themselves against his chest, and my heart tripped again.

I knew Joan didn’t mean anything by it – like most of her race, she is very tactile – but I also knew Ray was enjoying the sensation of Joan’s firm generous mounds against him – and I was getting a strange thrill from it, too.

I turned to Mike and Louie and shook them by the hand. Joan kissed Mike but, because he was so much taller than she, their bodies didn’t touch, but Louie, who was last, pulled her right into him – and dropped his hands to cup Joan’s butt as they kissed.

She was a little flushed as they climbed up into the van and we waved until it turned out of sight, at the corner of the street. Then Joan took my hand and we walked back to our new home, in companionable silence.

I didn’t quite know how to bring up the subject, but eventually I said – “I bet they wish it was Wichita, all over again?”

Joan turned to look at me, a puzzled smile on her face.

“Wichita?” she said.

“That’s exactly what Louie said,” I grinned – but my grin was a bit lopsided. I felt nervous, like a guy on his first date, wondering how ‘far’ he might get.

“He was a bit cheeky, that Louie,” remarked Joan, “grabbing my butt like that. Still, he’s only young – what about Wichita?”

I wanted to ask her about Louie feeling her ass, but decided to save that till later.

“Oh,” I said, as we entered the kitchen again, “I overheard them talking a little while ago, and Ray and Mike were telling Louie about a job they did in Wichita.”

I took both of Joan’s hands and backed her up against the table. I moved against her, to let her feel my erection pressing into her stomach. Her eyes widened a little in surprise, but she smiled and moved gently against me.

“What happened in Wichita?” she asked, her voice low.

“Well, there were four of them – Ray, Mike and two other guys – and, at the end, the woman came into the van to thank them. They asked her for a kiss and – well, it ended up with her naked and them taking turns with her.”

Joan’s face took on a delicate shade of pink, and she dropped her eyes.

“You mean – I had a narrow escape?” she said, softly. I pressed my cock against her and, releasing her hands, cupped her bottom to pull her against me. She put her arms round my neck and buried her face in my shoulder.

“Yes,” I whispered. “It’s just as well I was there, don’t you think?”

“Why?” she asked. “Did they – force her?”

“No,” I answered. “I don’t think so. While Mike was kissing her, the others started touching her and, when she didn’t object – well, they just carried on and stripped her, then they fucked her.”

“What – all of them?” Joan whispered. Her lower body was moving against me, her breasts pressing against my chest. I moved a hand up to squeeze her left breast. She let out a little sigh.

“Yes – they took turns with her – one after another,” I said, and rubbed a thumb over her nipple. I could feel it – its erectness – through her blouse and brassiere.

Joan was silent, but I could hear her breathing – quick, irregular. I thought about what to say next. My balls tightened.

“If I hadn’t been there – today – would you have still kissed them?”

“I suppose so.” Her reply was muffled, almost inaudible.

“And what if Louie had squeezed your butt – like he did?”

“Well… ” Joan’s voice trailed off. I waited. Eventually, she went on.

“I don’t think they would have wanted to – with me,” she said. “I’m just a – married woman – a mom, with two kids. The one in Wichita – she was probably… different.”

My hand was unbuttoning her blouse. My cock was like an iron bar. I had to wet my lips before I could speak again.

“I heard them talking about you,” I said. I could hear my own voice, shaking with excitement.

Joan’s head was buried in my chest.

“What – what did they say?” Her voice was low, breathy, quivering – like mine. I wet my dry lips again.

“Ray wanted to fuck you from behind,” I whispered, fiercely, my hand plucking her swollen tit from her bra, “so he could squeeze your tits, but Mike wanted you up against a wall, your legs round his waist, so he could feel your ass while his cock was deep inside you… “

Her grip on my shoulders tightened and she let out a muffled moan. I lifted her and carried her, unresisting, into the den. I laid her on the couch and pulled off her blouse and bra. Her naked breasts spilled out, her nipples hard and erect.

She lay, looking up at me, as I wrestled my jeans off. Her hands stroked her tits, sensuously.

“Did they say that?” she said, shyly, incredulously. I grunted, nodding my head, as I kicked my shoes to the floor.

“And you…? You were listening?”

“Yeah,” I gritted, my jeans coming off in a rush. I dragged my shorts down, over my distended erection. “I was mad, at first, then – I thought about you, and them, and them – taking off your clothes and feeling your tits and your ass – and then laying you down on the tarpaulin and spreading your legs… “

Somewhere along the line, Joan had pulled off her shorts and panties and was naked on the couch, legs apart, her hand between her thighs, her middle finger stimulating her clitoris. Her head was thrown back, her tongue running round her lips.

“Come and fuck me, Kyle,” she gasped, hoarsely. “Come on – pretend you’ve watched them feeling my bare tits and sliding their cocks up me, one by one. Come and… aaaaagh!”

I plunged my rod deep inside her wet gaping cunt and felt the tight slippery muscles grip and massage it as I began to ride her hard, my mouth fastened on to one distended nipple.

“This… was… how… Louie… wanted… to… fuck… you,” I gasped with each stroke. I knew I was taking liberties with the truth, but I wanted her to think of someone else on top of her – a new cock – a young, tireless one which could fuck her into oblivion.

“Yes,” she gasped. “And Donald, too!”

For a second or two, I thought – “Who the fuck is Donald?” – but then all coherent thought deserted me as the red mist rose and rockets and stars went off in my head and I made one last desperate plunge up my writhing, gasping wife before my cock finally twitched uncontrollably and the volcano burst forth.

I seemed to come for literally ages and almost passed out completely with the intensity of my orgasm. To my shame, I had no idea whether Joan came or not. When I returned to my senses, I was sprawled on top of her and my limp dick was hanging helplessly between her thighs.

Joan’s arms were clasped round me, tightly – a fact I noted with intense relief. Never before had our lovemaking encompassed the notion of Joan letting another man have her and, now that I had returned to a post-orgasmic sanity, I was very unsure as to how she would take the idea that such a thing could excite me.

It never occurred to me that she could be worried about how I would react to her getting turned on by the same thing and I don’t know what might have happened if the phone hadn’t rung at that moment.

It was the call I had been expecting – from the office. I was surprised they had managed to cope this long without me – and very relieved they hadn’t called twenty minutes earlier! By the time, I had finished the call, the boys had been brought back, hollering for something to eat, and Joan was back in the kitchen – back to being a normal wife and mom.

She went to bed early that night, and I guessed she was a little disturbed at the turn our lovemaking had taken that afternoon – as, indeed, was I. I sat, alone, thinking about the incredible excitement I had derived from the picture of the three moving men stripping my lovely wife in the back of their van, then taking turns at fucking her, each in his own special way. I was also incredibly turned on by the way Joan had joined me in my fantasy and, as I thought about it, my hand stroked the sensitive underside of my erect cock, through my trousers, then I had to release it, and I masturbated to orgasm, thinking of my wife gasping in ecstasy as another hard cock plunged between her willing thighs…

Chapter 2 – The Laundry Man

But, in the following days and weeks, I remained very confused about why I should feel like this, and more than a little guilty. For her part, Joan didn’t seem to want to go into that territory again, and, even though I was tempted, during our – more frequent, now – bouts of lovemaking, I managed to restrain myself.

Then, about three months later, we were shopping in the local mall, with the boys. It was a Saturday afternoon, and we were taking a break for an ice-cream for the boys, and coffee for us. Joan was queuing at the counter, with our tray, and we were sitting at a table. I noticed a tall dark guy, at another table, watching Joan, with a peculiar intensity in his gaze.

As though she felt his stare, Joan turned and met his eye. She smiled, and mouthed ‘Hi!’ at him, then her eyes flickered over to me, and I saw a pink tinge of colour on her cheekbones. The guy, too, looked a little embarrassed as he smiled back, and I thought his face was a bit familiar, though I couldn’t place him.

When Joan returned, she didn’t mention the encounter, but I noticed her eyes drifting over, more than once, to where the guy sat, on his own. Something told me that there was more to this than met the eye, but I didn’t say anything. Joan’s manner seemed a little forced, then she relaxed and, when I looked again, the guy had gone. During the course of the afternoon, this strange episode remained at the back of my mind, and I kept worrying at it, and trying to remember where I had seen the guy, before.

After the boys had gone to bed, Joan and I were having a little late supper, on our own. We weren’t saying a lot and I was thinking more and more about the incident in the afternoon. I decided to find out more.

“Who was the guy at the ice-cream parlour?” I asked, suddenly, as though he had just come to mind.

“Which guy?” came the automatic response. Like all women, Joan always answers a question with another question.

“He was sitting at a table while you were at the paydesk – you said ‘Hi’ to him.”

“Oh – that was just Donald – the laundry man,” said Joan. This time, there was no hint of embarrassment – but the guy’s name hit me like a thunderbolt, and I recalled where, and when, I had seen him before. He had turned up on moving-in day – he was the one Joan had been talking to when I was listening to the removal men discussing her.

And – his name was the one Joan had cried out when she was on the point of orgasm, imagining herself being well and truly fucked by some one other than me!

I remembered how he had been gazing down her cleavage, then admiring the sway of her sexy bottom as she walked back to the house. I felt my cock begin to stiffen and I was glad we were sitting at the table. But I tried to remain ‘cool’.

“Oh,” I said. “I thought I recognised him. Wasn’t he the guy who came the day we moved in?”

Joan’s cheeks coloured, but they always did that when one of us mentioned that day. I’m sure, like me, she couldn’t think of it without calling to mind our mind-blowing sex on the couch in the den.

“Yes,” she replied. “That was him.”

“I didn’t know you used a laundry service,” I commented, in surprise. She certainly hadn’t, before, in NY.

“Well, I didn’t really mean to,” answered Joan, “but, what with all that had to be done in the house, after the move, I thought I’d use him for a week or two, just until I got into a routine, but he does such a good job – and he’s not expensive – well, I thought I’d just keep him on – for a while, anyway.”

Her face was still a little pink, though, and her eyes were kind of downcast, as she spoke. My mouth was drying and my hands shaking a little as I thought this over. This guy – Donald – would be calling to pick up, and deliver, during the day, while I was in the city and the boys were at school. It went without saying that, unless he was gay, he would want to get into Joan’s panties – and I had seen enough, that first time, to know he was a true blue heterosexual, at least where my wife was concerned!

And how about Joan? It couldn’t be just coincidence that she had called out his name that same afternoon – the afternoon she had learned of my arousal at the thought of her…

“So – how often does he come?” I asked. Too late, I realised what I had said. Joan picked up on it, right away, and giggled.

“I don’t know him that well!” she laughed. “Would you like me to ask him, next time?”

“You know what I mean,” I said, laughing in turn. The atmosphere lightened.

“He picks up on a Monday morning, and delivers Thursday,” said Joan.

“Delivers, huh?” I sneered – and she leaned over the table and punched my arm. I grabbed her hand and pulled her over towards me. Her blouse was gaping as she leant over the table, and I leered in at the view of her appealing 34C bust.

“Like the view?” breathed Joan, latching on, right away, to what I was doing.

“Sure,” I said. “Who wouldn’t? I noticed ‘he’ did – that first day.”

“Who? Donald?” asked Joan, her dark eyes flashing, but contriving to look innocent and surprised, as well.

“Oh, yes,” I murmured. “I saw him looking – so did the removal guys!”

Her eyes dropped to the tablecloth.

“Then he watched your butt swaying, as you walked away from him,” I continued, relentlessly. “And so did I! It gave me a hard-on. I bet he had one, too!”

“Oh, he did!” Her voice was so low, I could hardly hear her.

“What?” I said, not sure I had heard right.

“He had a hard-on when he was looking down my blouse,” said Joan. “What did you think I was looking at?”

I said nothing. My heart was pounding furiously. This was the first time, since that day, I had got Joan to talk this way. I leaned forward and kissed her on the mouth. Her lips mashed against mine and her tongue darted into my mouth. I slipped a hand down the front of her blouse and cupped a bare tit in my palm. I could feel her nipple, hard and erect. She let out a little purr of pleasure.

We stood up and I led her into the den, pulling her down onto the couch, beside me.

“Tell me about him – what’s been happening,” I asked, pulling her hand across and placing it over my erection.

“It’s not really – very much at all,” she said, hesitantly. “Just – well – one or two little things.”

“Tell me,” I insisted.

“Well,” said Joan. “The first time Donald came back with a load of clean laundry, I was so pleased with the job he’d done – I, well, I gave him a kiss – nothing sexy, just a peck on the cheek, and a little hug.”

I had seen Joan’s ‘little hugs’ before. She didn’t mean anything by it, but she is very affectionate, and I just knew Donald would have felt her tits pressed against his chest.

“Well, the next time,” she went on, “he seemed to expect the same again, so – well, it became a habit with us. He delivers the laundry – I pay him – then I give him a kiss.”

“Is it still on the cheek?” I asked.

“Well, not always,” said Joan. “Once, he turned his head by accident, and our lips met – so, now, I suppose we usually kiss each other on the mouth – but only a short one!”

I thought about this. “So, is that all?” I asked, convinced there was more.

Joan took a deep breath. “Look, Kyle,” she said, “you’re not to get mad if I tell you. Nothing terrible’s happened, and there’s nothing I can’t handle.”

I decided not to pick up on the latest ‘double-meaning’ and, my excitement growing at the thought of what she might have to tell me, promised not to ‘get mad’. Joan went on.

“One day, Donald arrived very early Thursday morning. You and the boys had not long left, and I had just got dressed after my shower, and I was busy in the kitchen. I asked Donald if he would mind taking the clean clothes upstairs and putting them away in the walk-in closet in our bedroom. He said ‘no problem’ and he went upstairs. He seemed to be quite a while and, while he was upstairs, I heard the toilet flush.”

“Then he came down again and I paid him and – well, he left.”

I knew the ‘well’ covered the ‘thank you’ kiss, but I let it alone, this time.

“So – what then?” I asked.

“Well, when I had finished in the kitchen, I went up to check the clothes had been put away OK, and then I remembered I hadn’t tidied the bathroom after my shower.”

She hesitated, and her grip on my cock tightened.

“Well?” I asked.

“My panties had been moved,” Joan whispered. “I had left them on the floor beside the shower cubicle and, now, they were lying beside the toilet bowl. And – and – then, I checked the toilet bowl and there was a drop of – stuff – just under the rim.”

“Stuff?” I breathed, but I knew the answer before it came.

“Sperm – cum,” she breathed. “It had to be him – I cleaned it the day before and we hadn’t used it since. Donald had picked up my panties and masturbated in our toilet!”

“Was there any cum on your panties?” I asked, scarcely able to breathe.

“I didn’t find any,” said Joan, “but – oh, Kyle – it was hard to tell. You see, before I had my shower, I – well – I laid on the bed and – well, I was playing with myself, and my panties were covered in my – stuff!”

“So he wrapped his cock in your juiced-up panties, and…?”

“Yes,” she breathed. “Oh, Kyle, it was so exciting! It made me feel so horny and turned on – I wanted to chase the van and get Donald to come back and do it again, and let me watch! As it was, I stripped off, and put the panties back on, and masturbated myself all over again!”

I couldn’t speak. I pressed Joan’s hand round my cock as I felt a huge orgasm building up, but she wrenched her hand away and leapt to her feet.

“Don’t you dare touch yourself!” she insisted. “I’m going to get us a drink – I’ve got some more to tell you!”

It took a huge effort of will to keep my hands off my throbbing erection, but I managed – just – and, gradually, I calmed down. In a couple of minutes, Joan returned with a large glass of wine for herself and a very good measure of my favourite malt whisky.

Handing me my glass, she sat in an easy chair, on the left of the couch.

“I can’t think straight when you’re touching me,” she apologised, “and I don’t want to get anything wrong. Is this OK with you, darling? I mean, on moving day and all – you seemed – well, then I thought maybe you’d changed your mind and you didn’t like – well, me – with other men. Is it OK?”

“Yeah,” I assured her, managing to follow what she was talking about, even though she was barely coherent, her words tumbling out in a rush. “Yes, it’s OK – it’s fine with me. And it makes me feel – even better – about you. Don’t even think about stopping now!”

She stood up and kissed me. I put my hand up and caressed her gorgeous bottom. She squirmed away, laughing.

“Later!” she chuckled, and took a long swallow from her glass as she settled in her chair again.

“After that day, I always got Donald to fetch and deliver the laundry from our bedroom, and I always left something lying around that was still warm from me wearing it. It wasn’t always panties – sometimes it was a baby-doll nightie, and sometimes a brassiere – and, every time, he used the toilet and, every time, what I had left had been moved. He didn’t leave it beside the toilet, always, but it was always in a different place. And, nearly always, after he had gone, I put it on again, and played with myself until I came.”

“It was just like a harmless sort of – game. Donald never said anything to me, and he never tried to – well, come on to me, or touch me, although, when we hugged, his cock was always hard – pressing against me. But he’s really very shy. He doesn’t talk much. I asked him if he had a girlfriend, but he just shrugged – I think he might even be a virgin!”

So he hadn’t fucked Joan, I immediately thought – and was shocked by the instinctive feeling of disappointment that washed over me. Was that really what I wanted? Looking across at her, she had never looked so desirable. In her early thirties, she was in full flower.

Her hair was jet-black, down to her shoulders. Her eyes were almost ebony, dark, warm, unfathomable and, at this moment, glittering with arousal. Her body was strong and sexual – shoulders straight and fleshy, lifting her heavy firm breasts with their wide aurolae and thimble-shaped brown nipples. Her waist was well-defined and her hips spread widely – two succulent globes, jutting to the rear, which, when in motion, would move a stone statue to raging erection. Her legs were sturdy, yet shapely, especially her graceful thighs, and I had never seen such a blatantly sexual pubic bush – black curls in wild profusion, framing a deep pink gash which always seemed to be gleaming with the juices of arousal.

Deep down, I knew that the one drawback of fucking Joan myself was the inability to fully enjoy the wonderful vision of her being fucked, or fucking someone. For that inestimable pleasure, a third party had to be present – a second cock for me to watch her writhe in ecstasy on – a second pair of hands to tease her tits or grip the cheeks of her ass as her legs parted and her cunt was plugged to its full capacity.

I knew now, without a shadow of doubt, that I wanted to see that – so, yes, if Donald hadn’t had her, I was disappointed.

“But then, one day,” Joan went on, “I didn’t have enough cash to pay him, so I had to write out a check. I sat at the desk in the foyer to write out the check, and I immediately realised that, with him standing up, he would get a view down my blouse. I was wearing a push-up bra, and I knew he was getting a real good look at the crevice between my tits. I wrote it real slow, and I could feel my juices running, knowing what he was doing. Then I sneaked a look across the desk and nearly blew my mind. He was wearing a pair of light tan slacks, and his cock was sticking up like a rod – and there was a little dark patch spreading, just at the tip!”

“And it was so big, Kyle! I couldn’t see how thick it was, but it must be at least eight inches long – maybe nine! I got such a rush that I messed up the check, and had to write another one! Then I stood up and gave him the check – and the usual kiss and hug. Only, this time, he muttered something and put his hand on my ass and pulled me towards him, on to his hard-on. He’s so much taller than me, it was pushing against my navel! And he didn’t let my mouth go after a quick kiss, as he usually does. He kissed me again, and his hand slipped down between the cheeks of my ass, and I had to wriggle free from him!”

“He stood back, then he muttered – ‘See you Monday, Joan” – and he rushed away. I was breathless, as if I’d been running, and shaking, all over. But it was after that, I really started to see how much I could turn him on.”

Joan stopped again, and looked over at me.

“You still OK with this?” she said. I nodded, not trusting myself to speak, and she slowly unbuttoned her blouse, revealing the deep cleavage in her white satin half-cup bra. I could just see the tops of her thrusting nipples.

“You like?” she smiled.

“Yes,” I replied. “Just like Donald!” I showed her the tent in my trousers, and she licked her lips, her smile growing a bit strained.

“Don’t you start teasing me,” she warned, “or I might not get my story finished.”

She slid a hand between her thighs, rubbed gently, and gave a small shudder.

“Ohhhhhh,” she said. “I’ll need you to relieve that itch – later on.”

Reluctantly, she withdrew her hand and started her story again.

“The next time Donald called was a Monday, so I didn’t have to pay him. But I left the bra I had been wearing on Thursday on our bed. It was that flimsy transparent cream lace one – just ideal for wrapping round his cock!”

Joan gave a strange little laugh, and her eyes went up in her head as, involuntarily, her hand plunged between her thighs again, pulling her dress aside impatiently, and pressing against her mound, on top of the white satin panties. Her voice was shaky again, as she recalled the events of that morning.

“I waited at the bottom of the stairs, listening to Donald moving about, putting the clothes away, until I heard the bathroom door close. Then I quickly climbed the stairs and waited outside the bathroom door. I could hear him inside, Kyle – it was such a turn-on. I could hear him breathing. It got quicker and quicker, then it became very harsh, then he sort of groaned and his breathing turned to shuddering gasps – then it all went quiet. I ran back to the top of the stairs, shaking like a leaf, then I heard the toilet flush and I began to walk slowly along the landing.”

“And he came out, holding my bra! When he saw me, he went brick-red, and tried to hide it, but the straps wouldn’t stay hidden. Then he said – ‘I found this on the floor, Joan, and I was bringing it down to you.’ I put out my hand for it, and he hesitated. I knew he was worried that there might be some cum on it, but he had to give it to me.”

“I took it without saying anything, and opened it out, so we could both look at it. There were no stains on it. I said – ‘I wonder how it got in there? I thought it was in the bedroom.’ Donald looked as if he wanted the floor to swallow him up – and I was absolutely soaking! I was so turned on – but I felt so powerful! He had been masturbating with it round his cock two minutes ago, and now I was holding it up in front of him! I couldn’t help it – I rubbed it gently against my cheek. Then I said to him – ‘Oh, well, thanks, anyway, Donald – it’s one of my favorite ones. Do you like it?’ But that was too much for him, and he disappeared into the bedroom to fetch the basket.”

“But my teasing backfired on me, because he was too embarrassed to stop for his kiss, that day. He couldn’t wait to escape, and he rushed downstairs, saying he was late!”

Chapter 3 – Getting In Deeper

“I spent the next three days plotting my next move. I was so aroused all the time, knowing that I could bring his cock to erection just by flashing my cleavage, or letting him touch a piece of my underwear. One time, earlier in the summer, when the kids were still out of school, I had brushed against Donald’s cock with my hip, when I picked up Ben and turned suddenly. I could still remember how it felt, and I wondered if I could do it, again, but this time with my hand. I became obsessed with wanting to feel his cock with my hand, but I didn’t want him to think it was deliberate.”

“So, when he came again on Thursday, I dressed specially for him. I wore my semi-transparent cream blouse and, after a great deal of thought, I didn’t wear a bra, at all. I know my tits are really too big to go without a bra, but I really wanted to turn him on, so that his cock would be hard when – if – I got a chance to touch it. I also didn’t want him to jerk off, and get soft, so, when he arrived, I said I was in a hurry to go out, and he should just leave the laundry in the kitchen, and I would write him a check.”

“As soon as he saw me, he realised I was braless. Well, he’d have had to be blind not to! He had never seen my nipples, and now they were poking through my blouse like organ-stops! And I didn’t have to look twice to see that his cock was standing to attention, and saluting the flag! It looked even bigger than before, even though he was wearing dark slacks, this time.”

“Pretending to be in a rush, I sat down at the breakfast bar to write the check. It’s higher than the desk, and I was able, by hunching down a little, to let my tits actually rest on the surface and, with my blouse gaping forward, Donald could see right down inside. I’m sure he could even see as far as my nipples – I was hoping so, anyway. I was flooding, again, down below and my hand was so shaky, I’m not sure he’d even be able to read the check.”

“As soon as I’d finished, I jumped up and gave him a very quick kiss – not even a hug – saying I would have to rush. Then I turned away, quickly, and pretended to stumble. I put out a hand to save myself – and put it right on to his cock! It was absolutely rigid, Kyle – and it felt very thick, as well as long. My hand felt on fire – I could even feel it throbbing beneath my fingers.”

“Then I ‘recovered’ my balance, and apologised to Donald. But I didn’t pretend I didn’t know what I had grabbed. I said – ‘Oh, I am sorry, Donald. Oh, how embarrassing. Imagine me putting my hand there – I’m so sorry!’ Then, as if it was an impulse, I hugged him again and kissed him, then rushed upstairs, calling goodbye as I went. I waited to hear the kitchen door close, then threw myself on the bed and had a most enjoyable half hour, remembering the feel of Donald’s erection under my fingers, and wondering how he was feeling, knowing I had handled his cock!”

Even the thought that this guy’s cock was bigger than mine – which was what Joan was implying – couldn’t arrest the lustful surges which were coursing through me as my beloved wife continued these amazing confessions about her ‘secret’ life. These revelations about her latent sexuality – and her sluttish behaviour – were consuming me and, far from turning me off her, making her more and more fascinating to me.

It was as though I was uncovering a whole new side of her personality – which I undoubtedly was – and, not only that, I was looking at her body in a completely new way. It was as though I had never seen it before, let alone fondled and fucked it hundreds, if not thousands, of times. I was seeing her through another man’s eyes. I was Donald, gazing down her blouse at her uncovered tits, my cock going rigid at my first glimpse of her nipples, my mouth drying with the desire to plunge my hand down there and squeeze the firm, forbidden flesh.

I began to rise from the couch, but Joan waved me back.

“That was just two weeks ago, lover. Just let me bring you up to date, then we can go to bed and we can fuck each other senseless – but promise – promise! – you’ll tell me again what the removal guys wanted to do to me. I was so excited, last time, I didn’t hear half of it.”

I subsided again, only half-reluctantly, to hear the rest of the Donald story – so far.

“You know my black velour bikini?” asked Joan. I nodded – it was sensational, on Joan, with an ass-hugging bottom which really enhanced her curvy rear. She knew that if she wore it any place around me, at home or at the area swim club, she’d get herself soundly fucked. She’d even told me that she wore it at the swim club, when she went with a friend – one of our new neighbours – and that all the men eyed her up while she was there. My balls tightened in anticipation.

“Well, when Donald called last Thursday, I was sunbathing on the sundeck outside our bedroom. And – OK – I wasn’t wearing it by accident. I know what it does to you – and most of the guys at the swim club – so I wanted to try it out on Donald. When he arrived, he called out and I called back and told him just to come upstairs and put the clothes away.”

“I heard him come into the bedroom and go to the closet. But then I lost my nerve – that bikini just shows too much for me to wear it round Donald, without you being here. So I guessed I’d sneak in for a wrap to cover myself. But, just as I came through the window, he came out of the closet with the empty basket. He stopped and looked at me, then he took two strides forward and grabbed me. He grabbed my wrists and pulled me towards him, then he reached down my back and took hold of the cheeks of my bottom and pulled me, hard, against him. I realised that, this time, I was no longer in control and I started to struggle, but he was too strong for me.”

“I was hammering my fists against his back, but he was grinding his cock against me, and I knew he was out of control. Then he took one of his hands off my butt and pushed it up to grab my breast. He pulled my top down off my breast and squeezed it with his hand. Then he took it in his mouth and tongued my nipple.”

“I knew I was weakening – deep down, I really wanted him to give me a good fucking. I wanted to feel his hard cock thrusting inside me – but I didn’t want to be unfaithful to you. But while he was squeezing my tits, I was thinking – ‘But this is what Kyle wants – he said so! Why don’t I just let him fuck me – and then tell Kyle all about it.'”

“My legs were beginning to grow weak and my cunt was aching to be filled. I could feel my nipple erecting against his tongue and my hips were moving against his huge hard cock – and then Luke cried out! He was home from nursery school, sick, and he had slept late.”

“The sound made Donald hesitate, and I pushed against him. I told him to let me go, that I was a married woman, faithful to my husband – and a mother, with a sick child to see to! Luke called again, and he stood back and let me go. I rearranged my bikini top and put on the wrap. I told Donald to wait for me downstairs and hurried through to Luke’s bedroom. He was OK, though – just wanted a drink of water and to lie in bed for a while. I got him a drink, then went downstairs to face Donald.”

“When I got there, he was full of apologies – said he didn’t know what had got into him and promised it would never happen again. He even offered to stop doing our laundry, and fix up a replacement for us. I said maybe I hadn’t been careful enough around him – hadn’t seen the warning signs – and maybe it was a little bit my fault, too. Anyway, I said, it was quite flattering for an old married woman to have a young, good-looking guy like that interested in her.”

“So I said we’d just forget it ever happened, and he should keep on calling. Then I paid him, like usual, but I wasn’t going to hug him – not after what happened upstairs. But when I saw the ashamed look on his face – he was just like a little boy who had been caught by his mother with a dirty magazine – well, I felt so sorry for him, I just had to put my arms round him, just to show him I still liked him.”

My heart had practically stopped when Joan was describing her near-rape – especially when she had told how Donald had fondled her naked breasts – and now I was suffering the aftermath. It was like I had been the one who had been stopped, just as I was about to realise my fantasy of making love to this beautiful woman. I imagined how he had been feeling as he made his way back to the van, his hands still warm from cupping Joan’s breasts, his cock stiff, his balls drawn up tight…

I took a long swallow from my glass. Joan had finished her drink. She stood up and shrugged off her blouse and brassiere, her hands rising to cup her incredible tits.

“Do you wish he had fucked me, Kyle?” she breathed, her eyes glittering, her thumbs tweaking her already fully erect nipples. “His hands on my tits were much rougher than yours – he was really squeezing them hard, he was so excited!”

I pulled her down beside me and mashed my mouth against hers. I took hold of her breasts and squeezed them, painfully, and she shuddered.

“Oh, yes, Kyle,” she groaned. “That’s what it was like – and his cock was like an iron bar!”

I pulled her hand to the front of my trousers and she said – “Yes – it was hard – like that! I wanted to take it out and feel it in my mouth!” She hurriedly opened the front of my trousers and released my throbbing erection. With a groan, she dropped her head, and her lips enclosed it in their velvety warmth. Her tongue ran up and down the inflamed glans.

“Shut your eyes and pretend it’s Donald,” I muttered, fiercely, straining my hips upwards to force even more of its rigid length into Joan’s willing mouth. My hands were mauling her breasts mercilessly, and she was making strange little noises in the back of her throat. Her hand was now teasing the root of my cock, her lips running sensuously up and down the walls.

“It’s Donald’s big hard cock in your mouth and Donald’s rough hands on your naked tits,” I whispered in her ear, as her head bobbed up and down over my straining crotch.

“And when you’ve sucked him off and swallowed his load,” I went on, “Donald’s going to push you down on the bed and rip off your panties and spread your legs wide and – fuck you – and fuck you – and fuck your sopping cunt until you beg for mercy… “

As my mind conjured up the scene – Joan, naked, legs spread wide, writhing in ecstasy as Donald plunged his cock into her again and again – I couldn’t hold back any longer and I pumped jet after jet of sperm into Joan’s wet, warm mouth.

For a while, I was transposed out of my world into a galaxy where shooting stars darted, exploding, across an inkjet sky. My whole being was concentrated on the vibrant galactic release taking place inside my wife’s welcoming lips, then, gradually, a great peace descended, and my head fell back.

My grip on Joan’s breasts relaxed, but I couldn’t let go – I never wanted to let go. Joan didn’t move. Her head was still in my lap, my now flaccid cock still between her lips, her hand still gently pumping its base.

I stroked her hair and, unbelievably, felt my penis twitch. I thought about what Joan had said, earlier, and my cock twitched again, and began to stiffen. She said she wanted to hear, again, what the removal men had wanted to do to her. I thought back to that overheard conversation – to Ray, who wanted to bend her over and fuck her from behind, holding her tits in his hands – and Mike, who wanted to fuck her standing up, his hands holding her bottom cheeks – to Louie, who had actually taken his chance and squeezed her delicious butt globes…

I felt Joan’s fingers tighten on me as she sensed my cock begin to swell again.

“Do you want to hear about the removal men, again?” I whispered. Joan’s fingers tightened convulsively and her head rose. She buried her face in my chest.

“Ooooh, yes, please,” she breathed, against my chest. “Let’s go upstairs – I’ve waited so long – tell me everything they said… everything they wanted to do…”

Chapter 4 – The Homeward Journey

We hardly slept, at all, that night. Of course, we fucked like crazy, but we also spent hours and hours, talking – sharing all the things we had been too nervous and scared to confide in each other before. We talked about our experiences before we had met each other – mainly teen fumbles which now seemed terribly exciting, in recollection – and our most secret fantasies, dark areas of our minds which we had concealed from each other, up to now, for fear of offending, or upsetting, each other.

I now realised that Joan had always thrilled at the thought of exposing herself to men, and imagining what they were thinking about, as they caught a glimpse of her generous cleavage, or sneaked a look up her skirt. When she was alone, she played with herself a lot, thinking about being with a man, or men – quite often in a situation where she was helpless, unable to resist, as he, or they, stripped her clothes away and fondled her gradually exposed charms until lust overtook them and she was forced on to her back, legs held apart, and a succession of long, thick cocks invaded her opened vagina.

Sometimes, I would appear in these fantasies, too, as a watcher, or, occasionally, as a participant, my cock finally plunging into a cunt made slick and slippery by the entrances and exits of those who had gone before.

And these fantasies matched my own. Ever since I had overheard the moving guys in the van, I had increasingly become aroused by the thought of Joan in another man’s embrace – a stranger’s hands fondling those big beautiful tits – Joan’s mouth circling round someone else’s pulsating erection – Joan’s thighs clamping round another man’s pistoning hips as his penis thrust into her open vagina.

In the ensuing weeks, we explored these previously hidden areas and could hardly keep our hands off each other. I found myself thinking of Joan when I was at work. I’d be sitting in an important meeting, feeling an erection growing in my pants as I thought of what I was going to do to her when I got home. Sometimes, I’d take time out, to call her, and tell her what I had planned, and she’d play with herself, on the other end of the line, and tell me what she was doing, so I could hardly stop myself taking my cock out, right there in the office, and masturbating furiously.

But, I knew it was just fantasy. Joan had got a real fright when things with Donald had really hotted up that day and, having come so close to losing control, she was now making sure she didn’t get into such a situation again. Donald still called twice a week, and still got a friendly hug from Joan, on departure, but he now left the laundry in the kitchen, except on one or two occasions when Joan had company, and asked him to take it upstairs, as before, and put it away. But, on those occasions, she made sure none of her underwear or nightwear, was in sight, and she never heard him use the toilet.

My birthday was approaching, and it was Joan who suggested that, so that we could really ‘relax’ and enjoy it, we ask her parents, in Connecticut, to take the kids for a week – to stay with them. They were always asking us to do that and, although we would miss having them around, I agreed without any misgivings. The boys loved visiting their grandparents – and I couldn’t help thinking of how much less inhibited Joan and I could be with our sex life, with the whole house at our disposal for 24 hours a day, if we wanted it.

My cock was constantly stiff with anticipation at the thought of it. I was sure it was on Joan’s mind, too – and she admitted as much as we drove away from her parents’ home to start the journey back to Philadelphia. It was early evening, and she looked breathtaking, to me, in a light sea-green shell top, silky running shorts and a push-up bra which prominently displayed her tits.

She heaved a sigh of contentment as we started off.

“Oh, Kyle,” she said. “I shouldn’t feel like this – leaving the boys for a whole week – but I’m so looking forward to us being on our own for all that time. I’m going to make this the best birthday you ever had.”

I reached over with my free hand, and caressed her thigh. She grabbed my hand and pressed it, hard, into the V of her shorts. I felt the warm dampness, and my cock rose, anticipating the delights awaiting me at journey’s end. I left my hand there, my middle finger slowly caressing Joan’s cleft through the silky material, my eyes firmly fixed on the road ahead.

We were on the freeway when I heard the slow sound of a zip going down. The traffic was light, and I risked a glance across at Joan. Her shell-top was wide open, hanging down her sides, the top slopes of her breasts fully visible, practically down to her nipples. Her bra, although push-up, was also very transparent, and her large dark nipples were pushing hard against the skimpy material.

My mouth dried and I began to look for a rest place.

“No, Kyle,” she murmured, reading my thoughts. “Let’s wait till we get home. Let’s spend the journey looking forward to it – but do keep stroking me down there whenever you can – your finger will have to do until I can get your big thick cock inside me.”

By now, my ‘big thick cock’ was straining uncomfortably against the confines of my pants and, almost unconsciously, my foot was pressing on the gas pedal in my hurry to get back and fuck my lovely wife to oblivion.

I pulled out to overtake a huge truck and, as I passed it, was nearly scared out of my wits by a huge blast from its air horn.

“What the fuck?” I expostulated, as I pulled back into the inside lane, in front of the truck, which was flashing its lights at me in the rear view mirror. “What gives with that guy?”

Joan laughed, softly, and reached across for my hand, which I had pulled away from her when the air horn blasted.

“I think you’ll find the driver wasn’t passing a comment on your driving, darling,” she said, softly. “From up there, he must have had a hell of a view as we passed him!”

Realisation dawned. I glanced over at Joan, again. Her face was very pink, her eyes shining. Under my questing fingers, the crotch of her silk shorts was damp and warm.

“Wow!” I breathed, as I imagined what the driver had seen – Joan’s tits, practically uncovered, with my hand on her pussy. I looked in my mirror – the truck was well back, now, but there was another one up ahead.

I gained on him, slowly. I was about two hundred metres behind him, when Joan whispered – “Do you dare me, Kyle?”

I nearly stopped breathing. I knew what she meant.

“I double-dare you!” I replied, my voice shaking with excitement.

“How appropriate!” she giggled, then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw her fingers fumble at the front fastening of her bra. The fastening gave, and her glorious tits tumbled free. She tucked her bra away to the side, under her shell top. I started to indicate, to overtake the truck, and pulled out into the outside lane.

Joan’s hands were gripping the sides of her seat, her eyes staring ahead. As I drew level with the cab, I matched the truck’s speed. For a few seconds, we drove side by side, then, again, I heard the blast of a horn. I stayed where I was, driving one-handed, my hand caressing Joan’s soaking pussy. I could feel her wriggling her butt on the seat, then she moved her head and looked up at the truck.

The horn sounded again, and Joan lifted her hands away from her seat and cupped her breasts, running her fingers lightly over her nipples. The horn was now sounding incessantly, and Joan was squirming on her seat with excitement.

Suddenly, I pressed the accelerator, hard and shot away. The sound of the horn, and the sight of flashing headlights, signalled the truck-driver’s appreciation as he rapidly receded into the distance.

Joan sank back in her seat, and pulled her shell-top closed.

“Ohhhh,” she said, her voice quavering with excitement. “Oh, I’ve always wanted to do that. Oh, Jesus, Kyle – that was so exciting!”

Her hand disappeared inside her top, and she moaned in pleasure as she caressed her bare breasts. Her other hand slid down the front of her shorts.

“You just drive, now, Kyle – I have to do something about this – now! Just get me home as quick as you can – my finger’s only a substitute for the real thing!”

But I couldn’t help asking, as I returned my ‘other’ hand to the wheel – “Did you see the guy?”

“Oh, yes,” she shuddered, as her fingers plunged down her shorts. “He was looking right down at my tits and, when I lifted them up, he made that sign that meant he wanted to fuck me! Oh, please don’t let him catch us up, Kyle, or I’ll have to let him take me into his cab and play with my big tits and fuck me … ohhhhhhhhh!”

Her body jerked convulsively and her head shot forward as she doubled up in the throes of a huge orgasm.

“Ohhhhhh,” she breathed again, a long while later, as she straightened up. “Ohhhhh, that was soooooooo good.”

Acting on a mischievous impulse, I began to drop my speed. The road behind us was empty. I was down to half our previous speed before she noticed.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” I replied. “I’m losing power, somehow. I’ve plenty gas, so it isn’t that. Oh, well, I’ll just have to wait for that trucker to catch us up, so I can ask him for help!”

“Kyle!” she cried, in sudden alarm, sitting straight up in her seat. “No!”

Her head swivelled, to look out the rear window, just as I stepped on the gas, again, and laughed. Joan swung her arm and punched me on the shoulder.

“You rotten bastard!” she said. “Just for that, I’m sleeping in the spare room tonight!”

“You can run, but you can’t hide!” I laughed. “I’ll come and get you – then you’ll think you’ve been fucked by a dozen truckers!”

I slid my hand over the seat again and nestled it between her thighs, which were, now, a little sticky. Joan murmured contentedly, covering my hand with her own, and we drove home like that.

Our lovemaking that night was enlivened by tales of how the first truck driver had radioed all the other trucks on the freeway about the magnificent tits on display, resulting in our car being surrounded by huge horn-blowing trucks, and Joan having to spend half an hour in the cab of each one before being returned to me, stark naked, and covered in sperm and love-bites, for me to take home…

Chapter 5 – Happy Birthday!

We had a great few days together – plenty sex, uninhibited by the presence of the kids, but also a lot of ‘normal’ pursuits – shopping, picnics, visits to parts of Philly we hadn’t yet got around to seeing.

My actual birthday was on Thursday, and Joan had arranged a drinks party for all our new friends and neighbours, to start early in the afternoon. At 11.30, she said she thought I should start getting ready – to take a shower, then dress casually. When I had done that, Joan said that she would have to dress, ready for our ‘guest’.

“Guests!” I corrected her. She gave me a strange look.

“Guests?” she said. “I though I said ‘guest’.”

Something inside me quivered and I suddenly felt a little shaky. My heartbeat was irregular and my tongue was suddenly too large for my mouth. The expression on Joan’s face was strange – I had never seen anything quite like it before. She looked nervous, as though of an approaching ordeal, but excited – anticipatory, as well.

Suddenly, she stepped forward and took my head in both of her hands. Pulling me down, she gave me a long, deep kiss.

“I love you, Kyle,” she said, with all the sincerity at her command. “Just don’t forget that – whatever happens. But now – you’ve got to trust me, and don’t ask questions. OK?”

I didn’t dare think. I just nodded, and hugged her, tightly. She clung to me for a few seconds, then stepped back.

“Will you do what I ask – no questions – please?” she asked, her face serious, with ‘that’ look on it, again.

I nodded my agreement.

Joan explained that she wanted me to get into the regular closet with the louvered doors, opposite our bedroom bathroom. From that vantage point I could see the entire bedroom, including the entrance to the walk-in clothes closet. She made me promise to not say anything until she asked me to, and to remain in the closet until she asked me to come out. And she insisted that I keep my eyes open. She put on the stereo and tuned it to a soft rock station.

I watched her in the bathroom through the louvered doors. I could see right in. She put on a white satin garter belt and sheer white thigh-high stockings. She then put on a pair of her white bikini panties, which emphasised the glorious cleavage of her wonderful ass cheeks. Then a pair of white sling back pumps that raised her magnificent ass to a beautifully featured prominence, tightening the muscles, and rounding its incredibly enticing shape. It was a sight that always gave me an instant hardon and started me thinking about the virgin orifice nestling within. My cock was now huge – painfully erect.

She began applying her eye shadow and then her lipstick. I watched as the reflection of her beautiful breasts lightly swayed from side to side, in the mirror. I asked her if she wanted me to get one of my favorite brassieres for her to wear but she refused, saying that she’d get it.

“Just please stay in there, and say nothing, Kyle – please,” she said. I could tell that her tension had gone up several notches – and mine was practically at breaking-point. It was then that we heard the sound of a vehicle drawing up, in the drive outside the house. Joan stiffened, and her face went a little pale. She turned back to the mirror.

It was as I heard the back door open that I suddenly realised – it was Thursday – the day Donald delivered the laundry. I had never heard his voice, but there was no doubt in my mind who it was when a male voice called out for Joan. She didn’t answer – just sat staring at her reflection in the bathroom mirror.

There was a short silence, then I heard footsteps ascending the stairs. They were slow and steady – clearly someone carrying a load. I watched as I saw the guy from the ice-cream parlour – Donald, as I now knew him to be – enter the bedroom and proceed into the walk-in closet, carrying a basket.

At the same time as Donald entered the walk-in, Joan came out of the bathroom, naked from the waist up. Her hands were by her sides, her breasts bouncing gently as she walked. My heart was beating furiously – I couldn’t believe they couldn’t hear it. Joan walked quietly to her mirrored dresser where she kept her lingerie and perfume vials. The radio music covered her soft footsteps.

Joan selected a vial with a cruet top on it. I could see her keeping her eye on the lower corner of the mirror, awaiting Donald’s emergence from the walk-in closet. She saw him starting to come out of the closet – turned, as if she didn’t know he was there – and started to take the top off of the perfume vial. She ‘saw’ him emerge from the closet and gasped, dropping the cruet top onto the carpet, as if by accident.

A look of horror on her face, she cried out – “Oh, my God! Donald! I forgot!”

She got down on her hands and knees and looked for the vial top. Donald dropped the clothes he was carrying and started forward to help her, but she quickly found the top and put out a hand for him to help her back to her feet.

I had an erection like nothing I’ve ever had before in my life. Donald reached out to give Joan his hand and arm to grab onto, to help her up. She took hold of it, and got back to her feet.

As she did so, the sight and nearness of her proved too much for Donald and he pulled her into his arms. Beside himself, he began kissing her fiercely, on her neck and shoulders and hair, as she twisted her mouth away from his, in what, only Joan and I knew, was feigned resistance.

Donald was clutching her ass-cheeks, tightly, with one hand, pulling her against him, while his other hand was frantically fondling one of her exposed breasts. He was watching his hand, reflected in the mirror of the dresser, as it squeezed the firm flesh of her buttocks through the sheer white of her brief panties.

It was only with a superhuman effort of will that I managed not to clutch my jerking prick – I knew one touch would be all it would take to reduce me to a gasping ejaculation.

Joan was calling, protesting – “No, Donald – no – no – no!”

But her cries increasingly lacked conviction, until they slowly ceased and, with an almost imperceptible sigh, her body relaxed, her arms slid round his neck, and she began to return his kisses. He no longer had to clutch at her bottom to pull her against him, but his hand stayed there, anyway, exploring the delicious contours, encased in the white satin of her panties. His other hand was now caressing, rather than grabbing, her left breast, and I could see his thumb and forefinger stimulating the hard brown nubbin of her nipple. I knew how much she liked that, and I imagined how she would now be beginning to flood, between her legs.

Then I saw Joan’s hand slide down and in between them, on to the front of Donald’s pants. Her fingers circled around the very obvious bulge, and she sighed, and leaned back from him, breaking off their kiss.

She looked up into his face. “All right,” she breathed, softly. “Just this once, Donald I think I owe you that much – but once only. OK? Do you understand?”

He nodded, his face very serious, but working spasmodically, as Joan’s skilful fingers stroked his engorged penis, through his pants.

“OK,” she breathed, assuming control. “Now – let me see what you look like. You’ve seen most of me – now it’s my turn.”

Donald leaned forward to kick off his shoes and pull off his socks. Joan reached for his belt buckle, opened it, and then opened the clasp of his pants and lowered his zipper. Putting his hand on her shoulder for balance, Donald quickly stepped out of his pants and took off his tee shirt. He was left in just a pair of white jockey briefs which were tenting massively.

Joan began to slowly rub the head of his cock outside of his briefs.

“Oh, it’s very big, Donald,” she flattered him, her eyes wide, looking down at the shape jutting against the material. “Is it all for me? Do you think I’ll be able to manage it?”

Donald was panting like a winded puppy, his hands all over Joan’s tits and caressing the cheeks of her curvaceous ass. Then, he slid his right hand around and began to stroke upward into her pussy crevice. Her panties were soaked and I could hear her panting – hard.

“Yes, yessss, oh, oh, yessssssssss” she moaned, and I realised she was starting to have mini-orgasms, standing up, and stroking his cock-filled briefs, then she slid her hand inside his underwear and, at last, felt the bare skin of his cock with her trembling fingers.

“Ohhhhhh – take them off, Donald,” she gasped. “I want to see it. I want see your cock. I can’t even get my fingers round it. It’s sooooo thick!”

He pulled his briefs down his long, strong thighs, and Joan gasped as his cock sprang into view. I wanted to gasp, too. He had a real thick one. Not quite as long as mine, but certainly a lot thicker.

Joan said – “Oh, you’re bigger than my husband, Donald! I don’t know if I’ll manage to take you!”

I knew this was just flattery – and, maybe, just a little bit of humour at my expense. Joan was beginning to relax, and enjoy herself. Me – I had been enjoying myself from the moment she had walked into the bedroom with her lovely naked tits bouncing in front of her, and her gorgeous ass – her ‘jelly-ass’, as she called it – jiggling behind.

Joan reached down and grasped his cock in her small fist, as Donald’s fingers, now inside her pulled-aside panties, brought forth a series of little gasps from her as he massaged her clit.

Then he pulled her backwards and they fell onto our bed, with him underneath. He was now trying to pull her sheer panties down, moaning like a wounded animal, his thick rod standing straight up, rearing up above his hairy, heavy ball-sac. Joan was on her knees, over him, and I was looking straight at her panty-covered ass. It had never looked so beautiful.

I watched as Donald’s hands dragged her panties over her hips, exposing her cheeks, then he drew them down her thighs.

Joan took over then, sliding them down her calves and throwing them across the room. Before she had done so, Donald’s hand was burrowing into her black pubic nest, and I could hear Joan gasp in exquisite pleasure as his fingers made another contact with her engorged clitoris. Then I saw, first one, then a second, of his questing fingers disappear into the moistened crevice between her parted thighs.

As they did so, Joan let out a strangled gulp of sheer pleasure, and reached down to close her fingers round his wide, thick cock. His balls, covered with the same black coarse hair as was spread across his tight belly, were hanging low and heavy, and I speculated on the load of semen soon to be released, and where Joan would elect to receive it.

The scene before me, I now realised, was becoming fantastic, in the literal sense of the word. I couldn’t believe it was really happening. It was as if I had a front-row seat at the most erotic movie of all time, starring my own wife. My cock was still fully hard, but the temptation to touch it had almost gone – I knew I would need all my strength later, once Donald had been sent on his way and it would be my turn.

Then Donald reached up and rolled Joan over on to her back. There was no doubt, now, about the destination of his first ejaculation. Donald has made the choice – he wanted my wife’s cunt! His hands reached down and parted Joan’s thighs. Her pussy opened up like a flower in front of my eyes – her erect throbbing clitoris, her blood-engorged labia, and the deep, tight tunnel beyond, glistening with her flowing love moistures.

With a groan of pleasure, she reached between his legs to take hold of his cock again, and guided it into the open, welcoming gash between her splayed thighs. There was no time for more foreplay between them. They each wanted nothing more than to fuck the other.

And, for the first time, ever, I watched my wonderful Joan fuck – and be fucked. She was magnificent in her lust. She exhorted Donald to fuck her hard – harder – harder! She spurred him on by telling how good his big cock was, and how well he used it. How she was going to come harder, and longer, than she ever had before.

Donald was a machine out of control. His hips were moving like a car’s camshaft. He was setting a speed record of thrusts per second into her welcomingly juicy pussy. His eyes were rolling up into his head, showing only the whites. He was in a world of abandoned lust.

Then, with an unworldly strangulated roar, Donald finally abandoned himself to a juddering climax and, only seconds later, Joan, too, let out a long strident shriek of pure pleasure, her legs scissoring tightly round his waist as she pulled him into her, as far as he could go. Their bodies locked together in passion, they became one, lost in their own mutual orgasmic galaxy.

They both seemed to pass out for several minutes and then, they finally began stirring. Donald was the first to speak, his hands still roaming over Joan’s curves and hollows, like a little boy with the Christmas present he thought he would never get. He said that he never would have believed it. He had never made such wonderful love, nor had a woman as beautiful as Joan. He’d wanted to make love to her from the first moment he’d met her, over three months ago. She was exquisite. He admitted that he’d jerked off many times, fantasizing about fucking her – seeing her naked – touching her.

Joan told him that she had found herself very attracted to him, from the first, and, on a few occasions, she had been very tempted to make love with him, but that she couldn’t be untrue to me. She loved me, and our sons, deeply. Donald and she couldn’t have an affair. They could only have that afternoon, and then kiss each other goodbye.

But the afternoon didn’t have to finish right then!

She leaned over and lifted Donald’s now quiescent, but still large and impressive penis, from his thigh. Dropping her head, she took it into her skilful, tantalising mouth, teasing it back to life with her lips and tongue. As she did so, her fingers gently cupped his testicles and stroked the hardening base of his cock, until a low moaning, deep in his throat, began again. She moved her head up and down his shaft, at an ever-increasing pace, fondling his balls at the same time.

Every so often, as she felt his cock thicken, prior to coming, she pulled away and just rubbed his length across her face, sliding it lovingly along first one cheek, then the other, and giving it tiny nibbling kisses as it passed across her lips. In the closet, as I watched her apply this technique, with which I was so familiar, I knew what bitter-sweet agonies of sensation would be pulsing through him, and I fought desperately to retain my very consciousness as I vicariously shared his exquisite torture.


Finally, Joan relented and swung a leg across his, and mounted him. With one dexterous movement, she fed his rampant cock into her pussy and began to ride him. Like a drowning man, he reached up and clasped her swinging breasts – then he clutched at her butt cheeks – then back to her tits. He was making animal noises again, and his head was rolling from side to side, his mouth open.

The sight never leaves my mind. Joan’s beautiful ass cheeks rippled with each downward thrust. They jiggled from side to side to side in a blatant display of sexual wantonness. I thought I’d come without ever touching myself. It was out of this world – beauty in motion. I’ll never forget it.

Finally, as she felt Donald thrusting frantically upwards into her deepest depths, his breathing turning into one endless choking gasp, Joan let herself go, and, flinging herself down on top of him, clung to him desperately as she began to shake uncontrollably.

Their mutual climax lasted even longer, this time and, when they were both spent, they lay like dead people, entwined in their spent lust.

At last, Donald stirred, and Joan rolled off him, lying, legs splayed, beside him on the bed.

She said he should get going and finish his route, and Donald agreed he thought it would be best. Joan asked if he would let himself out – she wanted to have a brief nap before she got things ready for my birthday party. She told him that they must never get together again. That this was a one time only ‘fling’. Donald accepted all of this without objection, and dressed quickly.

He bent to give Joan one final kiss, and was unable to resist a last caress of her beautiful naked breasts. But when his hand slid downwards, she caught it and shook her head. He smiled ruefully, then turned and left the room. I heard him hurry down the stairs, then the kitchen door closed.

Joan rolled over onto her stomach. I started to come out of the closet and Joan asked me to stay there until the truck had left the drive. She was lying on our bed, clad only in her satin garter belt, pumps, and stockings with her magnificent ass on display. I heard the truck move and came out of the closet. I looked out of the window to see the truck turning into the main road and then he was gone.

Then I looked down at my gorgeous, well-fucked wife. My mind was in a complete whirl, but I had no regrets. I had never loved Joan as much as I did at that moment. Lying on her front, she turned her head and smiled up at me – but not without some trace of apprehension.

“Well?” she asked, taking a long, deep breath, then blowing it out again. “I suppose you must have enjoyed that – otherwise, you’d have put a stop to it, wouldn’t you?”

For answer, I slowly stripped off all my clothes and let her look at my rigid erection, standing straight out from my belly.

“That.” I said, “was the best birthday present I’ve ever had – by a million miles!”

Joan smiled again.

“Oh, no, it wasn’t, my darling. That was a present for me, for your birthday. This is your present – all for you!”

Reaching up beyond her head, she dragged a pillow down the bed and slid it under her stomach. Then, reaching behind her, she put her hands on the cheeks of her luscious bottom, and separated them, slowly. The seemingly tiny, puckered hole of her anus was exposed to my incredulous gaze.

“I think I’m really ready for you now, my love,” she said, a little shakily, but with determination. “You know I’m a virgin there, Kyle, but I’m ready to give that up, now – to you, and only to you. Whatever happens from now on, no-one else will ever have me there. Please do it to me, now, Kyle – please – I want it!”

It was the realisation of a dream. I got on my knees behind her. Reaching between her legs, I drew my hand along the shiny lips of her swollen vagina. My fingers came away liberally coated with slick moisture, which I massaged, slowly, around my erect penis, for added lubrication.

Then I leant forward and gently touched my glistening knobhead against her virginal orifice. Joan’s head was down in the pillow, and she had raised her hips up to meet me. She didn’t flinch at the first contact, and I pushed forward, gently, experimentally. Centimetre by centimetre, the tip of my cock entered her. Her opening seemed to expand with each light thrust, just enough to take a little more of my pulsating erection.

My eyes were fixed on her gently quivering cheeks and the incredible sight of the tip of my cock slipping in between them. I put my hands on her cheeks and squeezed them, lovingly. I heard a muffled sigh of contentment.

The room was totally quiet, the only sound that of distant traffic. The sunlight streamed in, diluted by the curtained windows. After a minute, I realised she had taken a full inch – the head was fully in.

“OK?” I breathed, apprehensively.

“Mmmm,” came the reply.

I pushed a little harder. Another inch disappeared. Joan gasped a little.

“OK?”

“Oh, yes,” she whispered. “Don’t stop!”

I could see her butt cheeks begin to ripple as her body started to move, tentatively, in what I prayed was the first sensation of pleasure.

I pushed again – now I was sliding in, inch by inch, tightly, but comfortably. It was a sensation unlike anything I had ever experienced before. Every millimetre of the surface of my penis was gripped, gently, and a thousand sensations were running up it, from stem to stern – for, now, I was in, completely!

I was totally inside Joan’s oh-so-desirable and long-desired ass, my hipbones pressed against the luscious softness of her cheeks, my entire cock inside her virgin anal passage. It was so warm and tight – and so welcoming! I reached forward and grasped her hipbones. She raised herself up until she was on her knees, her butt pressed back against me.

“Ohhhhhhhh,” she said. “Ohhhhhh – if I had known it would be like this! It’s like nothing I’ve ever known before. Oh, fuck me now, Kyle – ride me – ride my ass!”

I wasn’t sure, but I think she was in tears – tears of relief, and joy, that her sacrifice was giving her, as well as me, such sensuous pleasure.

“Oh, fuck my ass, Kyle, please – harder!” she moaned, and I withdrew halfway, then slid in again, then withdrew further, and slid in, harder this time. Her moans of pleasure intensified, and her hand reached down to fondle her clitoris.

I found my rhythm and began to piston in and out of her, my cock gripped by an entirely new, velvety warmth. Joan’s gasps increased in intensity, and I felt the upsurge beginning to build, in my own deepest depths.

Then, without further warning, I blew! It was a climax like nothing I’d ever experienced before – mind-blowing, cataclysmic. Joan followed me quickly, her fingers flying across her clit, her ass thrust back against me, her vocal abandon even greater than it had been with Donald, and her ecstatic cries formed the perfect accompaniment to the multi-coloured starburst in my brain!

I was in another world!

Happy birthday to me!

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