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Open Marriage chapter 4

11/23/2010

Although Bill objects to the word, "addicted, "
that's the best term I can think of to describe his attachment to card games. At
the peak of our experiment with open marriage, bi-weekly Friday night
poker had become a ritual with him and his friends, held at our home. Like young
boys, they called themselves the Nautilus Pack because of their
membership in a health club. "The game at Pier Point" was
what the players called it, referring to our home's wooden pier that stretches
out over the lake behind our house to the land's edge. Each evening the pier
looks like a walkway to the sun that sets across the water.


When they held poker night, I would go out with a divorced
friend, Christine.


Last May, Christine confided that each of these pack members
had occasional flings, adding, "except, of course,
for your husband, Bill." She'd learned this from our friend, Paul, with whom
she had recently been involved for some three months. I was stunned only
by her mention of Tom, a one-time seminary student who'd been a friend
of Bill's since their days as Reconnaissance Marines. I couldn't
have imagined Tom playing around!


Over the next two weeks, I found myself awakening after
wild dreams about sex with faceless men who - I somehow realized - played
poker every other Friday. So I begged off one night out with Chris
and laid a plan. I would be staying home during the poker game.


BILL'S STORY:


Because I'd encouraged Ellen over the past two years
to dress provocatively, I couldn't complain about her outfit
the night she offered to stay home and help serve snacks at the poker game. She
was wearing a loose red blouse and red skirt that was slit along her sides
to the waist. Her black hair hung loosely over her shoulders. She wore
her highest heels, which made her taller than two of the players.


Each man arriving was surprised to see Ellen. Sitting across
the gaming table from them, I grinned, noticing them glancing
at her from the corners of their eyes as she walked to and from the kitchen.
Ellen was serving short drinks and small snacks to make sure she'd
be coming and going frequently.


When the demand slowed, she relaxed on the sofa in the living
room and inserted a CD into the stereo. We could observe her through
the high arched door separating the rooms. She lay back, her legs
crossed as she leafed through a magazine. Because her skin was slightly
burned from sunning alongside the pool and lake the day before, her
long legs glowed red beneath the lamp behind her. She seemed detached and
unconcerned, but I think even at that time, I was catching onto her plan. She
looked toward us occasionally, noticing one - then another - glancing
away from his cards toward her.


Leo's luck was sagging. His head was down so far, staring
at a sad hand that all I could see was his brown hair, like he had no
face. He grumbled, "Tough game! Want to watch ESPN instead?"
he was hooted down, called a "wussy." So he laughed, "You
guys have no sympathy at all! What if we just ask Ellen to dance for us instead of playing this
damn game?"


Tom grinned, "NOW you're talking!" He
wasn't serious when he turned to Ellen and asked, "How about it? Think you could
liven up Leo?"


Ellen surprised them, eagerly responding, "Sure!
I'm only here to serve your bidding!" She turned up the stereo, dimmed
the living room light, and walked to the center of the room. The three players
across the table looked at each other with eyebrows raised. Paul
squinted his blue eyes and muttered, "She isn't kidding.
IS she?"


The last half of a heavy metal French song was underway.
Maybe because I'm ten years older than Ellen, I don't like rock
music; but Ellen likes it, so I don't object.


Her legs flashed through the open slits in the skirt as she
twirled. Ellen's an excellent dancer, and she was showing off
her athletic ability. Her hips thrust forward savagely, her eyes taking in their
mutual appreciation. Two of them were wide-eyed and grinning
broadly. Paul was staring intently, his mouth opened like he was watching
a nude dancer at on of the topless clubs he frequents. Maybe I should've
known how well she could dance, but I didn't, and her performance
surprised me. Except during her modeling eight or more years before, she'd
never danced alone before others. So I was a bit taken back, realizing just
how good she really was. She threw everything erotic she knew into the
dance. I grinned at the guys' pleasure they were enjoying.



Then, as she swirled, thrusting her hips, Ellen loosened
three buttons from her blouse, exposing a generous portion of her ample
breasts. Until that moment, I hadn't realized she had been sunbathing
in the nude; but no one could have failed to notice that the sunburn covered
her breasts.


When it was over, Leo shook his head in disbelief, muttering,
"Hot Damn!" And when Ellen walked to the kitchen for more
beer and chips, Leo added, "Best poker party we ever had!"


A half hour later, we called a break. Paul walked away while
Tom, Leo, and I were talking about pro football, which bores him.
Paul strode into the kitchen where Ellen was tidying up.


ELLEN'S STORY:


Paul is lean, his hair as red as my sunburned skin. At six-three,
he's the only player taller than Bill. He walked past me to the
sink. Watching him as he toweled a splash of picante sauce on his aloha shirt,
I said to his back, "Hope you don't mind my staying around
tonight."


He turned off the water, pulled on his sixth beer, and turned,
grinning, "Glad you're here. Adds class to this
crowd." Paul had had one beer too many. His eyes were on the portion of my breasts
that were still displayed beneath the half-unbuttoned blouse. I'd
crossed a leg over the other as I leaned against the counter and sipped a tumbler
of wine. One leg was bared. He gazed over my body, then glanced toward
the closed door as if someone might walk in. He turned again to me and
inquired, "Want to join us on the next hand?"


I told him, "I'd be in the way. I stroked my sunburned
leg, turned to the cabinet behind me, and pulled out a bottle of lotion.
Spreading the cream over my shoulders, I said, "This burn isn't
as bad as it looks. I'm a little warm, but comfortable."


The intimacy of the enclosed kitchen excited him. Glancing
at the lotion bottle, he gulped, "Can I help with your back?"



"Sure, " I smiled, offering him the bottle.
As I turned, he splashed the lotion on his hand, smoothing it over my neck. His touch
was electric. He stroked my shoulders erotically. I sighed, "How
about the backs of my legs?"


I looked behind me. His manhood was surging beneath his
white slacks. The broad head of his member was bulging flat against his
stomach, pointing to his belt. His face reddened as he saw me staring
down at it. He mumbled, "Uh, sure, no problem." He squirted
cream into his hand, then reached beneath the skirt, massaging it over my calves
in slow circles.


His hand touched the back of my thigh. I turned until his
broad fingers were brushing the smoothness of my shaved mound.
I shuddered as his fingers stroked my clitoris. Had anyone walked in,
his throbbing member would have been obvious.


Glaring like I was warning him, I held out my leg to rest in
his hand. He reluctantly moved away from my groin to my leg.



Knowing he shouldn't be doing this and pretending
he wasn't, Paul tried to appear unaffected. I glanced at the clock. Five
minutes had passed. He was holding my foot, my leg straight toward
him. I wriggled my toes, brushing his bulging member, and reminded him,
"Don't you think it might be time for the game to start over?"



He murmured, "Yeah, " swallowing. He lowered
his hand, allowing my foot to linger against his hardness. His brown eyes searched
my face as he said, "Hope that helped." He turned for the
bathroom. I heard water running for two minutes.


An hour later, I was walking down the hall from the bedroom.
I heard Tom push away from the table and say, "I'm out.
Sorry it was so early, but you guys keep dealing me lousy hands."


I ducked into the bath. Tom's long shadow turned down
the hallway's corner. I walked out, bumping into him. I asked if he'd
like to see the rest of the house.


I walked to the kitchen, picked a bottle of wine and two glasses,
then escorted him through the rooms. Upstairs, our arms
brushed against the other's. I didn't move away. Tom was slightly
intoxicated by the time we walked through the bedroom toward the hot tub. He hadn't
seen our waterbed before and was staring down at it for a half minute.
I took his hand and led him to the hot tub room. The room was lit by a dim
red bulb.


Tom muttered, "Looks like fun."


I agreed, "Sure. With an agreeable tub partner."



Tilting his glass, he peered over its rim, his gaze roaming
my body as he said, "Any time."


I was a little drunk as I nodded affirmatively and acknowledged,
"Well, ALMOST any time." Turning, I brushed
past him in the doorway.


His fist curled around my arm. Pulling me to him, he kissed
me deeply. I responded eagerly, my groin rotating against his. His
burgeoning tool awakened. He fondled my breasts. Taking a firm nipple in
his lips, he slithered his hand through the slit in my dress. His fingers
were stroking my clitoris. I gasped at the contact, shoving
my hips against pressure of his hand. I moaned.


Moments later, I whispered, "We'd better go
back."


As we walked into the game room, Leo dejectedly flipped
his cards on the table and complained, "O-kay, I'm out too.
My luck's not holding."


It was time! I blurted, "Don't quit, Leo! Why
don't you use ME as your prize chip?" When they asked what I meant, I smiled,
"If Leo's beaten, the winner can go to bed with me." I said it
like it was a joke, so that Bill could disapprove. Then, I could have backed
out gracefully, without seeming to mean it.


I'm not sure it came across that way, though. The men
were in a hilarious uproar, with hoots and shouts of "Whoa!"
and "All RIGHT!"


I trembled a moment, wondering if I hadn't gone too
far. I watched Bill carefully; he pursed his lips thoughtfully, then
smiled, nodding his assent.


I'd sobered, adding, "I really mean it. The winner
gets ME!"


Tom was standing beside me, at first in disbelief. He turned
and and strode to the table, saying, "Deal me back in!"



BILL'S STORY:


Tom looked away from Ellen, then at me and smirked, "Is
this for real, Bill?"


I looked at each player and asked, "You guys really
WANT it to be for real?"


They looked at each other, nodding affirmatively, as Tom
spoke for all and grunted, "Yeah, we do." Turning to them,
he asked, "Right?"


Paul said, slowly, "Absolutely."


Leo added, "Right."


I grinned, "Then it's for real." I turned
to Tom and inquired, "Think you've known me long enough to trust my word?


***********************************


Tom knew. He was the only other man besides myself who was
still living from the goon patrol. He works for me as a client liaison,
and he'd worked for me when we first met in the marines.


It was thirteen years ago this month when Tom was pointing
out that we'd seen more men die than either of us could ever know
as friends. It was our third day back in the States. We were sitting in a dimly
lit San Francisco bar in neatly pressed uniforms talking about
Mojo, Franklin, and Reid who were the best memories we'd have from the hell
ground we'd kissed good-bye the week before.


A dark haired, bearded young man was sitting two stools
away and talking to another hippie between him and us. The man glanced
around his friend's shoulder toward us and said to his clone,
"Fucking soldiers are running down the neighborhood."


His clone turned to look at us, adjusted his purple glasses,
lit up a joint, and told him, "Lay off, Louie."


Figuring his friend was offering him good advice, I ignored
them; but Tom turned to the clone, who seemed the most reasonable,
and asked, "You a conscientious objector?"


He responded, as if with sadness, "Yes."


Tom nodded sympathetically, "I understand."
Tom wasn't lying; he'd left seminary school from where he'd hoped one day
to be a Catholic priest. He'd joined the marines and spent the next four years
worrying about losing his soul. Tom turned to the other man and asked, "And
you?"


The surlier hippie clanked his beer against the counter
in a show of irritation. Wiping his heavy paws across a bright yellow
shirt emblazoned with a large blue star on his chest, he smirked, "Student
deferment." He spit on the floor, ignoring the angry retort from the bar
tender. I looked straight ahead, across the bar, and told Tom, "Tell
him to fuck off and forget it."


A TV set above the bar glared. The TV commentator was intoning
about a greenhorn lieutenant and his squad who'd gone hyper
in Vietnam and wasted the better half of a village we'd never heard of.


So Yellow Shirt glanced away from the set and growled, "Were
you two with those My Lai baby killers?"


I shouldn't have said anything, but I pulled on my beer
and explained heatedly, "He was Army! We're Marines!"
I felt an immediate twinge of guilt about implying the army was incompetent; it had been the
army's helicopters and the army's green berets who pulled Tom, me and three
other reconnaissance marines from a hell hole where we officially
shouldn't have been but had been sent anyway.


********************************


We'd been on the run for a dozen days and nights from
an unrelenting enemy who probably thought we were fifty or more men instead
of just five scared marines, three of whom wouldn't live to
celebrate their twenty-third birthdays. We'd slept in short shifts
with thunderstorms arriving on the hour and pesky snakes crawling through
our mud-soaked sleeping bags. I was suffering from a fractured wrist,
influenza, diarrhea, and a festering cut to the groin from crawling
through a quarter mile of jagged riverside rocks. And, as if the jungle
gods hadn't done enough, I was stumbling along half-blind with a three-day
migraine. Yet because, I was to be checked into a hospital for two weeks,
I was to be the luckiest of the five.


I was scared out of my wits from the first night's rumble
of mortar fire to the moment the flock of army choppers and the berets
cleared the jungle and whisked us away.


**********************************


I was remembering all that while this loudmouth was asking
if we were baby killers. I remembered it all.


As the helicopter turned south, a hulking green beret grinned
down at our six-foot-four superstar, Mojo, and asked, "How'd
you guys keep going?"


Mojo turned his determined black face to the beret and said
simply, "Semper Fi, baby."


A week later, a red-eyed sergeant who'd been leading
Mojo's new team strode down the double line of hospital beds to mine. He
had bad news. They'd just plucked the two dozen pieces of Mojo's
body from the stale waters of a rotting rice paddy. His remains were in a black
body bag, folded inside an ice chest on the hospital's west end.
Nervously gesturing his thumb over his shoulder, the sergeant added, "Near
the noncom's dining hall." And, by the way, how would I fucking like to
visit what was left of Mojo?


The next two hours, I was chewing pages from the Time Magazine
I'd been reading. I spat out paper balls I was imagining were
bullets aimed at everyone I could blame for us been sent to that hell hole.
Then I remembered. It was me. And Mojo. Nobody had forced us to
volunteer. Mojo's last fond memory was having learned the green beret talking
to him in the helicopter had been a pro football player for Mojo's
hometown team. The beret's reserve unit had pulled the unlucky number
and was called to Vietnam. The sergeant had told me Mojo had been talking
about the beret and his team that morning Mojo was killed.


Two months later, I was assigned to a fresh recon team. It
didn't get any better.


*************************************


So I pushed away from the bar but was too late. Tom had already
walked around the man who said he was c.o. and gripped the throat
of Yellow Shirt whose legs were now dangling inches above the marbled
floor. His arms were flailing. Tom was yelling at him, " A student
DEFERMENT! You're a DRAFT dodger!"


I told myself this was why Tom shouldn't have been a
priest anyway. Turning to Tom, I said, "Forget it. This piece of shit
isn't fucking worth this."


Tom murmured, "Guess not." He released his
grip. Yellow Shirt thumped to the floor. The man sat there in his bell bottom jeans,
his peace symbol dangling from a silver chain. Choking, he coughed
out obscenities about the brutality of mother-fucking, baby-killing
bullies.


Grinning, I turned to Tom, swallowed the last of the beer,
and scratched my forehead. I asked him, cynically, "So,
you proud of yourself?"


Tom's face reddened as he said, "Guess not."
Turning to the conscientious objector, but not to the man on the floor,
he apologized, "Sorry. And I mean it." He dropped ten dollars
on the counter and told the bartender, "Keep the change." The bartender
swooped it up, leaned over the counter, and shoved the bills back into Tom's
pocket, saying, "Gy-renes, you got a free beer here anytime you want
it." The bar man told Yellow Shirt to get the fuck out of his bar and not to come
back.


*******************************


So here we were across the country, light years later, sitting
across a card table. Playing for my wife as the prize.


Assured that Ellen and I were serious, they played furiously.
Their attitudes had changed to a determined lust. Now and then,
Leo, Paul and Tom looked toward Ellen who was sitting on the couch.


She looked fearful. She squirmed each time one of us dragged
the pool of chips across the table, like she was trying to determine
who would win. Once, her body shuddered, her hips involuntarily thrusting
in excitation. I didn't know who was the most eager, her or them. Or
me.


I lost purposely. No one noticed when I didn't show
my hand. To hurry the game along, the remaining players drew for the highest
card. Paul won.


They breathed heavily, leering at Ellen. Wide-eyed and
tremoring, she walked to the staircase, looking back at us in the dimness
of the game room.


ELLEN'S STORY:


I had known from the beginning I'd have to involve all
these men; otherwise, anyone of them could have talked. My voice quaking,
I murmured, "I want you all. But Paul's the winner.
He's first."


My knees were shaking as I took Paul by the hand. I turned
once more to Bill like I hadn't made up my mind. My stomach was
churning. Bill's eyes glinted beneath the chandelier. The long faces of Leo and
Tom displayed disappointment, but they smiled. Paul and I turned for
the stairs to our bedroom.


Paul's eyes are dark and brooding. Muscular and lean,
his arms look like telephone poles, the fingers of his large hands like
bananas. My body trembled as he closed the door, taking me in his arms.
His hands fondled my soft breasts as I unzipped his gray slacks, stroking
his stiffening manhood. My breasts heaved as he unbuttoned
my blouse and untied my skirt. My clothes puddled to the floor.


I'd known Paul and his wife for two years. Perhaps that
should have made me feel guilty, but somehow the thought heightened
my desire for the sin. I unbuttoned his shirt, then pulled away his slacks.
I knelt to worship the long engorged member curving up before me.



My fingers were shaking like leaves in the wind. I grasped
his hips as my trembling lips enveloped his velvety manhood. As
my lips slid along his length, my eyes rolled up to watch his face. He
stared back, chewing his lower lip, his hands clasping my bobbing head.
His hips thrust madly. His eyes glazed.


I tremored with fright as he grasped my arms, lifting and
pushing me back on the waterbed. My groin was thrusting
in excitation toward his twitching tool. Hovering above me, he spread
my legs. His tongue lathed my breasts, then traced a sensuous path down
my stomach. My vagina quivered up to his mouth.


He guided his lengthy tool's broad head to my vagina.
I wailed, realizing the others could hear me downstairs. I no longer cared.
My shaved cunt closed tightly around his throbbing staff. My eyes widened
as I stared down at the huge instrument sinking its full length. My
hips rotated, my cuntal walls contracting and pulling his engorged length.



He thrust into me like a wild stallion fucking a young mare.
My vaginal walls smoldered. I mewed with each entry. Closing my eyes,
I locked my legs around his back. His hips were slapping against my hungry
loins.


I shuddered. My straining vagina accepted each entry of
his broad tool. My body lifted from the waterbed with each withdrawal.
Paul's rod tunneled deeper. My mouth formed an "oh"
as I moaned in thrilling ecstasy, my eyes opening widely to watch the instrument
driving into me.


The door creaked open. Leo and Tom were standing nude in
the doorway, their forms outlined by the dim lighting from the bathroom
down the hall. Each walked to a separate side of our bed. My husband was
leaning against the doorjamb, pumping his cock furiously.


*******************************


BILL'S STORY:


When we opened the door, Paul turned to acknowledge us but
continued fucking my wife. Ellen looked at Leo. Leo is about her height,
heavyset but muscular, with the thick neck, shoulders, and arms
of a weight-lifter, which is just what he is. Her tremoring hand reached to stroke
Leo's semi- tumescent member. She grasped Tom's soft cock, pulling
it to her lips. As Tom's cock gathered its full, hard length, it glistened
beneath the dim stream of light filtering through the door. Leo's
broad chest hovered above her as he suckled one of her nipples that were standing out
like spikes. Her moans of pleasure were muffled by Tom's broad-beamed
member fucking into her hungry mouth.


I wondered whether Ellen thought about these men being
married to her closest friends. As for Leo, Tom, and Paul, I knew that at
this point they didn't give a damn.


Paul was fucking my wife with a frenzy. She was pumping Tom's
thick cock and mouthing Leo's full length. Paul shuddered,
then groaned as he exploded.


Leo took his place. As Leo's body hammered between
her splayed legs, her hips grinding and thrusting with his rhythm, the bedside
telephone rang. I said, "Let the recorder answer it, "
but Ellen put a finger to her lips for us to quiet down and picked up the receiver. Ellen's
lips ovaled in awe at the size of the cock ramming into her shaved pussy.



Leo hadn't missed a stroke. His broad member thrust
deeper. Ellen's hips tremored at the onslaught. Her voice quaked softly
as she answered into the telephone, "Hel...Hello-o-o-oh!"



It was her friend, Christine, who was telling her what a
great movie she'd missed that night. Finally, Christine asked,
"Are you all right? You sound a little strange." Whatever Ellen said
in response, Christine laughed, "Oh! You're being fucked by BILL! WOW!
Can I ever pick some great times to CALL! Look, I'll call back tomorrow night!"
When Ellen told us about the conversation, we broke up in gales of laughter.



Leo, however, seemed oblivious to what had happened and
kept thrusting into her. The mood returned as he began erupting his hot
sperm. And then, Tom was pumping into her. Her ankles locked around his back.
He murmured, "Oh, GOD!"


She told Tom, "I love you, Tom! I've always loved
you! Oh, fuck me, Tom! FUCK me!" I didn't know whether she meant
it or not, but for some overwhelming erotic reason, my cock expanded to enormous
proportions as she was proclaiming her deep love for him.


She rolled until her legs were straddling him. Leaning
over Paul's supine body, she brought him again to hardness. Her hand
stroked Leo's cock.


ELLEN'S STORY:


The heated male flesh around me electrified my mind and
body! I could feel our cosmic orgasms rolling up from the distance. A
massive groan in unison surrounded me.


I was pumping Leo's cock furiously, relishing the
feel of his soft outer skin that slipped over the hardness beneath.
His purple veins bulged over the pale skin.


I curled my hand around Paul's member, pulling it to
Leo's. I rolled one slippery shaft in a circular motion around the other
as they closed their eyes to experience the fleshy veins of another man's
tool jerk and throb in my hands.


I stared at the bulging shafts I was rubbing together. The
cock- heads surged in excitation, glistening a deep crimson.
Tom stared at the two cocks that were only inches from his face. Tom rode me
savagely. I pulled Leo and Paul closer; the undersides of their shafts
met from root to head. Softly grasping the upper half of each cock,
I slid them together in lengthwise motions.


Raising my torso, I strained my lips to envelope the heads
of both penises, my tongue lathing the walnut-sized cock heads
as I pressed them together at the roots. They groaned at the thrills rippling
through their rubbery tools.


Electrical currents shimmied through my body. The feeling
of two throbbing shafts in my hands and mouth, and another fucking
into my fluttering vagina, drove me wild. Rolling my head, I screamed
ecstatically.


Tom's tongue twined around mine. I pulled Leo's
and Paul's lengthy rods into my mouth, rolling my tongue through the crevice
between Tom's tongue and their shafts. Tom's body tensed. His cock
twisted and slammed into my vagina with full force, plunging to the furthest
reaches of my steaming cuntal walls. My clitoris pulsated in pre-orgasmic
spasms with each savage entry.


My head was thrashing from side to side, my vision blurring
from the sensual overdose of multiple fucking. A fire storm
was raging through me as I shivered helplessly beneath them, like the maiden
prize of an ancient conquering army. My eyes rolled in excitation
as I felt the throb of an expectant eruption.


In the dim light, I could see a large pale vein pulsating
in Tom's temple as he drove relentlessly into me. My hips gyrated
madly in passion. My hair flailed the warm night air. I shuddered wantonly,
my groin rotating wildly. The searing heat of his rubbery staff
flooded through me. My hands were still stroking Leo and Paul. Tom's
broad tool painfully stretched my lubricated walls to the breaking point. My
body throbbed in an explosive shower of mind-numbing pleasure as I thrashed
beneath his hammering hips. Murmuring my desire, I radiated with passion.



I was insane with desire! I rolled, until my long legs were
kneeling away from Tom, my backside to him. I released my grip from
the other two men. My elbows braced my body against the headboard as Tom's
hands grasped my hips; he entered my quivering pussy from the rear. I wailed
when we were united. And strangely, it was as if no one else were in the
room; just Tom and I. My passion smoldered.


His manhood throbbed within me. His swollen balls slap-slap-slapped
against my buttocks. Crazed with desire, I cried as he thrust
into me. My hips rotated like a ferris wheel gone mad. I fucked back
against him like I was riding an untamed bronco. I breathed lustily,
"Oh-h-h! Fuck me! FUCK me, Tom!" Hot ecstatic coals had been poured
into my vagina.


I turned my head to watch him, my eyes wide. He hammered his
long instrument like a massive machine. My lips ovaled in wonder.
I was a cosmic surfer, riding a celestial wave. When our eyes locked,
we each recognized the mutual feeling - We loved fucking the other. We loved
this adultery. We loved.


I relished the exquisite feeling of his huge cock slipping
into me. As Tom's hips gyrated, twisting his manhood deep within,
my cuntal walls irradiated in a passionate white heat. I was whimpering
in delight.


I glanced to Bill who had groaned from the doorway. His nostrils
flared. His eyes gleamed like those of a hungry coyote surveying
his prey. Bill squinted, his lips parted, as he gripped his cock.
He murmured savagely, "Oh, God-d-d-d!" The realization that my husband
was about to come while watching his friends fuck his wife rocketed my desire into
hyper-drive. Tom was now ramming his shaft into my cunt like a sledgehammer,
his hard stomach flattening my buttocks each time he slammed into
me from behind.


The other men, pumping their tools furiously, were slack-jawed.
They stared in wonder at Tom's and my passionate union of
orgiastic flesh. Tom was still lost in the lusty vortex, oblivious to the others.



Then it began. The thunder of cosmic orgasm was rolling
up from lust's distant mountains in lightning-laden clouds. The breadth
of Tom's manhood was now expanding monstrously like the explosive upsurge
of a volcano about to burst. We shared an ecstatic sigh. I was sobbing
like I was about to die. As I realized Tom was about to come, I moaned, "Oh,
GOD-D-D-D, YES-S-S-S!" I writhed in ecstasy as his thrilling
tempo increased and cried, "Oh DO it to me, Tom! I'm so fucking hot,
I don't know what to DO! Fuck me, Tom! FUCK me-e-e-e!"


I sobbed, staring straight ahead at the headboard as he
rammed into me from behind. Warm tears of joy streaked across my
face like tropical rain on the windshield of a speeding jetliner.
The salty liquid spread through my mouth as I moaned, "Oh God, Tom!
I'm going to COME! I'm going to COME WITH YOU! Oh God! It's so fucking AWESOME!"



And now, it was happening! Oh God help me! The tidal wave
was upon us. I shuddered, my body on fire with the cosmic power of
our orgasmic flood! We wailed in unison. The lightning thunderclapped. A million
stars burst throughout the room.


Tom's hot semen burst through my waiting channel.
I screamed as his lengthy member erupted molten lava through my steaming
cuntal walls. My arms enwrapped the shuddering torsos of the men kneeling
on each side. I was sobbing with passion, my tears flowing in torrents.



I throbbed in a sensation of dying in rapture. My mind was
separated from my body as if my eyes were looking down from the ceiling
upon Tom's body fucking his climactic crescendo into my cunt from
the rear. The vision of overwhelming passion was playing out before
me like I was a spirit watching from a cloud. I knew I was dying but no longer
cared. I reached for Tom's shaft as it was about to explode,
my mouth pulling its surging cream from deep within his balls. He collapsed
on the bed, his body jerking as he groaned mightily.


At the final moment, as I screamed in abandon, Leo rammed
his broad, steaming cock into my wide open mouth. My lips clamped upon
it as my tremoring tongue gripped the underside of his cock. I was
swallowing his warm sperm as it spurted through the walls of my mouth. My
mind was spinning in rapturous torrents, capturing the lusty thoughts
of every man in the room.


The final orgasm rippled electrically through my cunt
in a massive explosion. I imagined a skyscraper collapsing into rubble.
My body was shuddering like leaves in a hurricane.


After we'd fluttered to earth, we showered. I was lathered
and rinsed by the four men until my skin squeaked. We returned
to the bedroom. I collapsed face down on the waterbed. The others lay across
my body. We drifted asleep but were awakened an hour later by the alarm
Bill had set on the headboard. Leo took the final ten minutes before
they had to leave; I guess he wanted to prove he was the ultimate stud.
Leo rolled me above him until I was straddling his hips, then fucked
me twice more. It wasn't that erotic; the other men were laughing and
muttering, "Come off it, Leo!" and "You think you're a teenager
again?" I gladly took all he could give. It had been the greatest night of my life.


Bill and I still relive that night in the privacy of our bedroom,
but for reasons too numerous to tell here, its history wasn't
repeated. The rapport and friendship established with these men in a
non-sexual way was amazing to me. Occasionally in a social situation, a coded
remark is dropped by one of them with a wink. Their wives and other
friends are unaware of the meanings of these remarks. And not one of
them would dare offend Bill by suggesting to me that we get together on the
side.

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Extremely hot!!! I would have loved to have participated!

11/24/2010