"A thousand modes of Love are there"
Ovid, "Art of Love," III, 787, 88
My wife
and I had been happily married for a number of years. Our sex
life, while good, was not as spectacular
as it once had been. After two people have
fucked each other over a thousand times,
they know each other's likes and dislikes,
their moves, their reactions.
There's a tendency to get into a rut, to do things in the
same way time after time. They
no longer experiment. The ADVENTURE of sex
is gone.
It was
with this in mind, that I decided to surprise my wife. I have the
kind
of job where nobody worries about the
hours, only that the job gets done and done
well, so I'm free to come and go pretty
much as I wish. One Thursday around mid
morning, I left the office and drove
home, carefully parking on the next block so
my wife wouldn't see my car. I
cut through our back yard and quietly snuck into
our house the back way. I was
reasonably confident that at that hour my wife
would be in the kitchen. To be
sure, I waited until I heard her rattle some dishes,
and then I tip-toed up to the bedroom
and into one of the closets. I left the closet
door slightly opened so I could still
hear and see. My idea was to wait until she
came into the bedroom, as I knew she
would sooner or later, if only to go to the
bathroom, and to surprise her when she
did. I hoped that the element of surprise
would provide something new and exciting
to our screwing. Little did I know.
About
ten minutes later, someone rang the doorbell. My wife answered.
I
could hear most of the conversation
from my hideaway. It was, evidently, a
salesman who introduced himself as the
Candyman, "I'm trying to introduce my
line of hand dipped chocolates into
the neighborhood. I'd like to you try this one
and, if you like it, I'd like to try
to sell you our introductory sample package."
Both my
wife and I love chocolates, so I wasn't surprised that she was
willing to taste the one he offered.
"Mmmm, that IS good," she said. "Tell me
about your sample package."
"I'm offering
this small sample at only one dollar for two reasons. First, I'd
like you and your family to taste my
chocolates. Once you do, I've no doubt that
you'll want to buy more. And second,
I'd like to come back next week and
interview you as part of a survey about
the different kinds of chocolates you'll find
in the sample." There was a pause
while my wife got the money and paid him.
Then she closed the door and, from the
sound of it, went back into the kitchen.
What then
followed was a period of quiet, no clatter of pots and pans, no
walking around, no closets opening and
shutting, not even the rattling of the
newspaper. After about fifteen
minutes, I heard her leave the kitchen and start
toward the bedroom in a slow, hesitant
kind of step. I slid toward the back of the
closet so she wouldn't see me and prepared
to give her my surprise.
It was
I that received the surprise. As she came into the room she looked
flushed. She had slipped her left
hand into her half-unbuttoned shirt, and was
rubbing her breast, while with her right
hand she was pressing against her crotch.
She stopped in front of the mirror and
stood there, rubbing her breast and crotch
for a minute or two, and then finished
unbuttoning her shirt, which she dropped to
the floor. Her bra soon followed
and she stood in front of the mirror rubbing her
index finger along and around the engorged
nipple of her right tit. She pulled on
the nipple, then pressed it to the side
and then inward, hard against her tit, all the
while rotating her pelvis and pressing
on her crotch with her other hand. I stood
frozen in the closet, watching this
display, which I had never seen before, and
which I certainly hadn't expected.
Next she
unbuttoned and unzipped her jeans, and slipped her right hand
inside her panties. She stood
there, still fingering her nipple and, evidently, now
fingering her cunt. Then she removed
her hand from her panties, and I could see
her finger glistening with cunt juice.
She stepped out of her shoes and quickly
removed her jeans and panties.
Her hand went back to her cunt. Her index finger
rubbed around her clit and then dove
into her cunt and then back again to the clit. I
watched her repeat this process about
a dozen times and then she turned and
headed straight for the closet I was
in.
At this
point, I had no idea what to do. I automatically shrank to the back
of the closet, concealing myself as
best I could behind the clothes that were
hanging there. She openned the
closet door and, luckily without a glance in my
direction, reached up on the shelf for
the dildo I had bought her a number of years
ago, half as a joke. I hadn't
realized that she ever used it in my absence. She then
went to the bed, fortunately leaving
the door opened a crack. Lying on the bed on
her back with her knees raised and spread,
she returned to massaging her nipple
with her left hand. With her right
hand, she rubbed the tip of the dildo around her
now swollen and oozing labia and back
and forth across her clit.
Her breathing
was becoming audibly heavy as she slowly began inserting
the dildo into her cunt. It slid
right in. The dildo was not particularly large (I
wanted one similar to my prick, which
is a little below average in size), but her
ready cunt looked as if it could have
swallowed a much larger one. In the closet, I
felt my prick pressing to get out of
my pants and had to struggle to control the
sound of my own rapid breathing and
the beating of my heart.
It then
happened very quickly. The dildo went in and out barely a few
times when her body became racked with
the spasms of her orgasm. This in turn
inspired her to drive the dildo more
rapidly in and out of her now sopping cunt. As
her groans and grunts reached a peak,
I felt spasms run up my prick. Without
touching myself, I had come in my pants.
My wife
lay there breathing slowly. The dildo slid out of her cunt.
I
quietly took several deep breaths.
I tried to pull the cloth of my pants away from
my prick so that there wouldn't be a
cum spot showing.
We remained
that way for five or ten minutes. Then my wife got up to go
to the bathroom. I took advantage
of the opportunity, quickly left my hideout, and
quietly slipped downstairs and out the
back door. I made my way through the back
yard to my car, checked my pants for
any tell-tale spots, and headed back to the
office.
The next
couple of times we fucked were enhanced, for me, by the image,
now burned into my brain, of my wife
cumming in wild abandon while
masturbating with the dildo. In
anticipation of finding myself in the closet for
another show, I took the precaution
of moving the dildo to a drawer, and made sure
my wife knew where it was. After
using it during one of our bouts that week, I
told her the closet was too inconvenient
a place when I wanted to excite her with it.
In the
meantime, we both tasted the various chocolates in the sample and
found them excellent. We discussed
our preferences and I encouraged her to buy a
larger box when the Candyman came back.
The following
Thursday, I decided to sneak home again. I had no reason to
believe there was any connection between
the Candyman and my wife's show, but
they were linked in my mind. Again,
I entered the closet undetected and waited.
This time, I had brought some tissues
with me so I wouldn't mess up my pants if
there were a repeat performance.
Again,
the Candyman rang the bell. "How did you like the chocolates?" he
asked. After my wife enthused,
he continued, "I'd like to ask you a few questions."
He then proceeded to ask her whether
we liked the samples, which we liked best,
did we have any suggestions, and the
like. The only slightly unusual question was,
"Did you notice any difference between
the free chocolate you tried last week and
those in the box?" When my wife
said she really couldn't remember, he offered her
another one, which, he said, was the
same as the one she had tasted last week.
After eating it, she said it seemed
to taste the same as the others. "No different
aftertaste or aftereffects?" he asked.
"No, I don't think so."
She asked
him if we could buy some more chocolates. "My husband and I
really like them," she said. He
only had the small sample boxes with him, so he
sold her another for one dollar and
told her he'd return the following week with
some larger boxes. Again, once
he left, there was the strange silence, followed by
my wife's entrance into the bedroom,
this time with all her buttons opened. She
seemed in a greater rush this time,
rapidly shedding her clothes. No posing in front
of the mirror like the previous week.
She lay on the bed and fiercely rubbed her
clit as if she were angry with it.
Her other hand squeezed and prodded her tits,
while her fingers kept up the rapid
pressure on her clit, occasionally dipping
between her red, swollen and glistening
labia to bury themselves in her cunt, and
then returning to work her clit.
Just as rapidly, my prick swelled to its hardest. I
slipped some tissues inside my pants,
over the head of my engorged prick. Then,
watching my wife working her tits and
cunt, I rubbed my prick from outside my
pants, trying to time my orgasm with
hers. Both of us exploded in seconds, she
with loud yells, while I struggled to
remain unheard.
Again,
I retreated when she went to the bathroom. Again, the image of her
angrily flailing away at her cut heightened
my excitement whenever we fucked that
week. Again, we greedily gobbled
up the small sample of chocolates. And again, I
found myself hidden in the closet the
following week when the Candyman called.
This time,
he asked if he could come in and get a drink of water while he
showed her the different assortments
and asked a few more questions for his
survey. They chatted a while as
my wife selected the assortment she wanted to
buy, which he sold at a very reasonable
price. Then he turned to his survey. After
a few preliminary questions, he again
asked if there was any difference between the
free taste he had given her and the
ones she had bought, particularly whether there
was any after effect. To help
her, he gave her another free taste, which she quickly
gobbled up. "The reason I ask
about this," he then said, "is that it's a bit of an
experiment. The free chocolate
contains an extra ingredient that some people think
is an aphrodisiac. Since it doesn't
seem to affect the taste, I'm thinking of
marketing it as a 'marriage enhancer,'
but, of course, I need to be assured that it
actually has some effect. Since
it doesn't seem to have any effect on you, it may all
just be a silly rumor and maybe I should
forget the whole thing."
"Well,"
my wife admitted, "it's not something I normally talk about, but I
don't want to mislead you and cause
you to lose out on your marketing. It really
seems to be a powerful aphrodisiac.
I wasn't sure after the first one, particularly
since the chocolates you sold us didn't
have a similar effect, but after the second
one, I was pretty sure. Already,
I'm beginning to feel the effects of the one I just
ate."
"What
are those effects?"
"A tingling
that runs through my body, particularly the tips of my nipples
and my clitoris," she replied with,
for her, an unusual candor and openness. "I
have an overpowering urge to rub those
spots."
"Give
me a moment to record this in my survey. Don't worry, there's no
identification with any names," he said.
"There," he continued, "I've got it. Now,
what do you do? Do you masturbate
after I've left?"
I couldn't
hear any response, but my wife must have nodded because he
continued. "Good, that's the effect
I want. Why don't you now to try it with your
husband? These two have the aphrodisiac.
You can tell by the small gold spots on
the wrappers. When the time is
appropriate, offer him one and eat one yourself.
Don't tell him about the aphrodisiac
effect. I'll come by next week to ask you how
it went. Now I better leave so
you can relieve your urges."
She wasted
no time. No sooner had the front door closed than she was up
in the bedroom ripping off her clothes.
This time she showed renewed interest in
the mirror. She moved a chair
in front of it, grabbed the dildo out of the drawer,
and sat in the chair with her legs spread,
pressing her feet against the wall on either
side of the mirror. After playing
with her tits, she began pressing the dildo against
her cunt. From my hiding place,
I could see her cunt in the mirror as the dildo
began to slide into it. In and
out she drove it, while she rubbed her tits or her clit
with her other hand. She'd push
the dildo almost completely in, and then slowly
pull it out, it's surface glistening
with the juices that ran so freely from her cunt.
Slowly the pace picked up and she began
to mutter words, quietly at first, then
louder and louder. "Yes, ram it
in, yes, yes, more, faster!"
Under
the cover of her noises, I unzipped my pants, and freed my rigid
cock. Grasping it loosely, I began
sliding my fist up and down its length, keeping
the tissue ready in the other hand.
As her pace and cries increased, I pumped
harder and harder. Then she let
out a cry I thought could be heard a block away as
spasm after spasm racked her body.
It was all I could do to get the tissue to catch
the gobs of cum that spurted out of
my prick. Surely, I hadn't been this excited
while jerking off in a long time.
I escaped
in the usual way, wondering how the chocolates would work on
the two of us, and eagerly looking forward
to it.
Saturday,
I was sitting in the living room reading when my wife asked me if
I wanted a chocolate, and offered me
one. As I unwrapped it, I noticed the gold
spot on the wrapper. "This is
it," I thought and looked up to see her smiling as she
bit into her chocolate. I pretended
to go back to my reading, but it only took a few
minutes before the aphrodisiac kicked
in. We reached for each other and began
tearing our clothes off. In a
moment we were naked with my wife sitting on the
couch and me on the floor with my head
buried in her cunt. I licked her clit, then
dug my tongue into her oozing cunt,
then back to her clit, then around the labia,
into her cunt again, and around it in
a wide circle, even going as far as her ass hole,
a place from which she normally kept
me away. At the same time, she grabbed my
hair and pulled my head forward as if
she were trying to stuff it up her cunt. With
her legs over my shoulders, she pressed
my back with her heels, so that between
her pulling my head and her heels pressing
on my back she established the rhythm
of my sucking to suit her urges.
Then, not wanting to cum too soon, she pulled
away and dove for my cock. I was
as hard and big as I've ever been, but one
advantage of a smallish prick is that
she had no trouble swallowing it up to my
balls. Her head bobbed up and
down and she wrapped one hand around my balls
and pulled on them in the same rhythm.
When I couldn't stand it anymore without
cumming, I pulled her off.
Together,
we both realized that we were plainly visible through the front
window from the street. Any of
our neighbors passing by would have had front
row seats at our "live show."
We rushed to our bedroom and started again. I sat on
the edge of a chair and began sucking
her nipples, which were now almost as rigid
as my prick. She moved forward,
straddling my legs, and slowly began to lower
herself to my prick. She reached
down and fitted the tip of my prick between her
labia and then continued her slow downward
motion until my prick was completely
engulfed in her cunt. Then, supporting
herself with her arms on my shoulders, she
began a lap dance that nearly drove
me wild. Still sucking on her nipple, I reached
around and began massaging her ass.
She reached down, took one of my hands,
and began suckling my middle finger.
She positively slobbered over it, leaving it
quite soaking, before she returned it
to her ass.
As my
fingers ran up and down her crack, she leaned forward and softly
whispered in my ear, "Stick your finger
up my ass." This was something she had
never wanted me to do in the past, so
I thought I had misunderstood her. "What?" I
grunted, squeezing her ass cheeks, with
the tips of my fingers still in her crack.
"STICK YOUR GODDAMN FINGER UP MY FUCKING
ASS!" she shouted, as
she continued to rock back and forth
on my prick. I didn't need a second invitation,
I slid my soaked finger into her tight
little hole and rotated around the orifice.
"FURTHER," she yelled, "AS FAR
AS YOU CAN REACH." I slid my finger up
to the third knuckle and with the tip,
through the thin membrane separating them, I
could feel my cock going in and out.
I took my other hand off her ass and slid it
between us to massage her clit as her
motions got wilder and wilder. "I'M
COMING, YOU FUCKER," she screamed, "RAM
IT IN!" I let go of her nipple,
lest I bite it off, and with a cry of
my I, released a stream of cum that was lost in
the juices of her cunt. We both
continued screaming as I pumped load after load
up her hole. I could soon feel
our mingled juices dripping down my leg as, her
eyes closed and her face distorted,
she continued to cum for what seemed like
hours. Finally, we both collapsed,
sliding off the chair onto the floor.
True to
his word, the Candyman returned the next Thursday. My wife let
him in while she bought more chocolates
and he continued asking her questions for
his survey. He wanted to know
how the aphrodisiac in the gold-dotted chocolates
had worked on the two of us. "Wonderfully,"
my wife responded. He wanted
details. Did I respond rapidly?
Did it get us out of any routine we might have
fallen into? Did we do things
we normally didn't do? In different places than we
normally did? Did it add to our
marriage?" To all of these questions, my wife
responded with emphatic yesses.
Would she like one now? Again, an emphatic
yes, followed by her usual "Mmmm" as
she chewed it. Did she enjoy masturbating
under the influence of his wonderful
chocolate? "Oh, yes," she responded, and
from my hiding place in the bedroom
closet I could feel the smile that must have
covered her face.
"Would
you let me stay and watch you?" he asked. That was a sudden
change of pace. My wife said nothing
for a moment, then "No, I couldn't do that."
"Please," he said, "I get terribly excited
watching women masturbate. I'll just stand
there. I won't come near you or
say anything. At the end, I'll quietly let myself out
without a word. Please.
As long as you'll let me, I'll keep you and your husband
supplied with the gold-dotted chocolates.
Please." I could imagine what was
going through my wife's head.
She was afraid. It wasn't right to masturbate in
front of a stranger. But, at the
same time, the idea was exciting. She had been
discussing these things with him and
he had been very objective and well-behaved.
And finally, the idea of having a supply
of those aphrodisiacal chocolates for the
two of us must have brought back memories
of last Saturday. On top of all that,
the chocolate she had just eaten must
have been working its magic, urging her to
stop this discussion and get on to more
sensual business. "Well," she finally
replied, "alright, if you promise to
just stand by the bedroom door and not come
any closer." "Gladly," he responded,
and a short time later they both appeared in
my view.
This was
the first time I had seen the Candyman. He was a nice looking,
clean-cut man, maybe five or ten years
younger than me. He was slightly taller but
rather thinner than me, with dark straight
hair, a largish nose, and long fingers. He
stopped by the door and stood there
while my wife continued into the room. She
turned her back to him and, hesitantly
at first, began to rub her breasts. Slowly, she
unbuttoned her blouse while she continued
her gentle massage. But then the
aphrodisiac must have won out over any
shyness. She turned toward him and in a
more exaggerated fashion continued rubbing
her tits while she took off her blouse.
After a few moments of this, she stopped,
dropped her hands, and said in a
exasperated fashion, "Look, I can't
do this if you're just going to stand there silently
like a statue. If I'm going to
put on a burlesque show for you, you've got to react. I
want to hear your approval, your encouragement.
'Take it off,' 'let's see some tit,'
anything, even just 'yes, yes, yes,'
so I feel like I'm exciting you rather than the
subject of a scientific experiment."
Then she turned her back and stood there,
breathing deeply, as if the effort to
come out and ask him to show some excitement
had drained her.
Her outburst
caught the Candyman off guard for a moment, but, taking a
breath himself, he began to utter, "Yes,
yes, yes," at first barely mumbling, but then
louder and clearer and more enthusiastically.
"Take off that bra, I want to see your
tits." This was all my wife needed.
My heart began to thump as, from my hiding
place in the closet, I saw her take
off her bra and turn around, revealing her naked
tits to another man. My wife's
tits are neither too big nor too small. Enough to fit
comfortably into my hand, they fill
my hand but aren't so large that they sag. Her
nipples stood out as she cupped her
tits, as if she was offering them to the
Candyman. Then, with the index
finger of each hand, she began toying with her
nipples. Up, down, around, and
into her breasts she pushed each hard, red nipple.
They seemed to get darker and the skin
of her aureoles got that shriveled look it
gets when she's excited. "Oh,
that's good, that's nice, those tits are everything I've
imagined them to be," he seemed to chant
in time with her motions.
She reached
down to her jeans, unbuttoned and unzipped them, while the
Candyman responded "Yes, get rid of
those jeans, show me what you've got." She
stepped out of her jeans and began rubbing
the palm of her hand over her panty-
clad pussy. I freed my engorged
prick from my pants and grasped if firmly while I
watched my wife, wearing nothing but
transparent panties, massage her cunt and
tits in front of this man. She
turned her back to him, bent over, and slid her panties
down, giving him a clear view of her
ass. "Oh, yes," he chanted, "show me that
ass, show me that gorgeous, soft, white,
lovely ass!" She slid the panties down and
stepped out of them. "Spread your
legs, I want to see your cunt," he cried. She did
as he said, bending over and supporting
herself with her hand on the edge of the
bed, her tits hanging down, she spread
her legs wide. Her other hand snaked
between her legs and her index finger
caressed her cunt in full view of the
Candyman.
"Oh, god,
what a pussy! Open it up, spread the lips, slide your finger in!"
he continued, as if he were directing
a film. She did as directed, rubbing her finger
in and out of her cunt, with the juices
running down her hand and her thighs. She
wiggled her ass and pummeled her clit
and drove her finger in and out of her wide
opened cunt, while he cried "Oh, oh,
fuck that pussy, stick it in, I'm going to come
in my pants, oh!" This cry seemed
to resonate with both my wife and me, for we
both began cumming in response to it.
I rammed my fist up and down the length of
my spurting cock, while my wife seemed
to grab her cunt as she shuddered and
spasmed. She released a loud groan
that filled the room as she came. She
collapsed on the bed, and I could hear
all three of us panting.
Finally,
the Candyman spoke up. "Thank you. That was one of the most
wonderful sights I've ever seen.
I'll leave some gold-dotted chocolates on the
kitchen table as I go. Next week
when I come, why don't you leave off the
underwear and wear something a little
sexier, maybe a tight tee shirt?" And he left.
Thus began
a new routine. Every Thursday, I would sneak back into the
house. This was now easier because
my wife took a shower every Thursday
morning in anticipation of the Candyman,
so I could slip in without worrying too
much about every little sound I made
while she was in the shower. From my
vantage point in the closet I would
watch my wife putting on the most obscene
show for another man. Though he
always kept his distance, standing fully clothed
in the bedroom doorway, the Candyman
would urge her on, giving her suggestions
for positions and moves, suggestions
that she always acted on. At his direction,
she wore a different sexy outfit each
week. She would answer the door for him
with her tits clearly visible through
a sheer blouse, or in a suit jacket under which it
was clear she wore no blouse, or under
a skin-tight tee-shirt mini dress that barely
covered her ass. She would pose
in whatever positions appealed to him, rub
whatever part of her body he suggested,
stick her finger in her mouth, her cunt, or
her ass if he asked. And always
she drove herself to a frenzied orgasm. All this
time, I would be standing in the closet,
my prick in my hand, my heart thumping so
loudly I couldn't understand why they
didn't hear it, and cumming, sometimes
several times during the same performance.
Between
Thursdays, my wife and I fucked like mad. She would offer me a
chocolate and we'd go wild. Fucking
in the kitchen, on the stairs, in the hallway,
any place at all. She'd blow me
as I left for work, I'd blow her when I got home.
I'd fuck her between the tits, up the
ass, under the armpit. I'd fuck her with my
prick, with the dildo, with a cucumber.
This was the most frenzied sex we'd had
since we were kids, only now it was
far more imaginative.
Then,
one Thursday, as my wife was lying on the bed with her legs spread
and two fingers in her cunt, the Candyman
said "I'm going to take off my clothes so
you can see me masturbate." As
my wife watched, still slowly running her fingers
in and around her cunt, he stepped out
of his clothes revealing his erect prick. It
was the biggest prick I had ever seen,
almost twice the size of mine, long and fat,
with huge, pendulous balls suspended
below it. Only his extremely long fingers
allowed him to get his fist around that
cock. I was stunned, and so was my wife.
She stopped massaging her pussy to stare
as he slowly began to run his fist up and
down that monster prick. Then,
as he picked up his rhythm, she resumed rubbing
her clit, faster and faster, in time
with his stroking. I couldn't believe that I was
standing in my closet, pumping up and
down on my prick, while my wife and
another man were each stroking away
less than ten feet from me. My wife's finger
were whipping up a froth in her cunt
while she stared wide-eyed at the Candyman
pumping on his huge cock. My own
cock felt inadequate in my fist, even though it
was spurting like mad. The Candyman
came next, pumping out huge loads from
his giant tool, which he managed to
catch in his handkerchief. Tremors ran with
my wife's body. With a massive
shudder and a cry, she came. By the doorway, the
Candyman continued to milk cum from
his prick while, on the bed, my wife
continued her panting and shuddering
as orgasm followed orgasm. In the closet, I
clutched my cock as I came again, spasm
after spasm running the length of my
prick - a length that had always seemed
sufficient but that now seemed so small
when compared with the magnificence
of the Candyman's cock.
Then,
with a "Thank you, that was magnificent," the Candyman was gone.
My wife seemed in shock, lying on the
bed. I began to wonder how long I'd have
to wait in the closet. But, eventually
she made her way to the bathroom and I
escaped.
The next
evening, seemingly out of the clear blue sky, my wife said, "I want
to watch you jerk off." I looked
at her, somewhat taken aback. "Come on," she
said, "Now. Take off your clothes
and get to it." We went to the bedroom and she
sat on the chair. "OK, get started."
I asked her to take off her clothes, too, but she
refused. She then sat there watching
as I stripped and began fisting my cock.
What was she thinking? Was she
comparing me to the Candyman, comparing my
cock to his king-sized version, comparing
technique. Her expression gave no hint.
But the recollection of her lying there
naked pumping her cunt while another man
with a huge prick jerked off was all
I needed to rapidly bring myself off. When I
finished, she cleaned off my prick with
her tongue, kissed it, and said "Thank you."
That was all.
The next
several weeks repeated the pattern with the Candyman. I would
sneak in while my wife showered.
She would dress in some obscenely suggestive
outfit and let the Candyman in.
He would give her a chocolate, leave some for us
later, and the two of them would come
to the bedroom and put on a strip show for
each other. Then, with him serving
as the director, they would each masturbate in
ways calculated to visually stimulate
each other while they manually stimulated
themselves. All the time, I remained
concealed in the closet, excited out of my
mind, and pumping away on my own, second
best, cock.
Then one
week, as he was leaving, the Candyman said, "Next week will by
my last visit. I'm moving to Minnesota."
My wife pulled herself up from the bed,
where she had collapsed after cumming,
and stared at him. "I've grown so used to
these visits. What will I do?
What will I do for chocolates? What will my
husband and I do for the aphrodisiac?"
"As to the aphrodisiac, there hasn't been
any for months. Once you were
convinced of its power, I began lowering the
concentration until I removed it completely.
The aphrodisiac has been your mind,
the strongest one there is." My
wife's mouth dropped open (as mine must have
done in the closet). "Good chocolates
you can get anywhere," the Candyman
continued, "and I rather think you won't
have too much trouble finding another
participant for these sessions, if you
really want one. In any event, I have to move.
Let's make's next week's session a memorable
one." And he left.
During
the week, my wife and I discovered that knowing the gold-dotted
chocolates had no aphrodisiac didn't
make any difference. Of course, I wasn't
supposed to know anything about it in
the first place, but we had gotten so excited
about our sex games that I certainly
didn't need any aphrodisiac, and my wife
surely behaved as if she didn't either.
However, between bouts, she seemed to have
a distracted look, as if she was thinking
about something else. I worried that she
might have become dependent on the Candyman.
More than anything, I wanted to
be present at the last session.
When Thursday
came around, I did my usual sneaking routine into the
bedroom. Sure enough, something
was different. My wife had set up our
camcorder on a tripod, right next to
my closet. She intended to videotape the last
session and had chosen almost the same
viewpoint as I had from my closet. I
ducked into the closet and a few minutes
later she came out of her shower. She
was dressed in a red dress that hugged
her skin from high on her neck down to her
hips. Her breasts were clearly
outlined. A barely visible zipper ran from her neck,
down the front of her dress, between
her breasts, to her crotch. From there the
material of her dress fell to floor,
but with slits that ran up each side to her hips. It
was clear that, as was now usual, she
wore nothing beneath her dress. I had never
seen this incredible dress before.
She walked
over to the closet looking straight at me, and for a moment I
thought she had seen me, but she only
came over to check the view through the
camcorder and make sure it was ok.
She waited in the bedroom until the bell rang,
then started the camcorder and went
to answer the bell. She let the Candyman in
and a few minutes later they came in
the bedroom. The last session was started.
The Candyman
stared at the camcorder and started to say something, but
my wife put her finger over his lips.
"I'm making a videotape of our last session
and I intend to be the director.
Don't say anything, just do as I ask you to." He
nodded in acquiescence. "Begin
by stripping." The Candyman removed all his
clothes and stood there naked, his prick
hanging limply between his legs, halfway
down his thigh.
My wife
had stepped back to achieve the usual distance between them.
Then she started. Slowly she brought
her hands up her body, caressing it, until
they reached her tits. Her hands
outlined her breasts and began rubbing them.
With the tips of her fingers she rubbed
her nipples which stood up and were easily
seen through her skin-tight dress.
Her body began to rotate slightly as she shifted
her weight from one leg to the other.
From the closet, I could see the Candyman's
prick begin to stiffen. Wy wife
continued to caress her body, now moving her
hands down over her belly to her crotch.
She press both hands into her crotch and
rotated her pelvis around them.
She spread her legs just enough so the material of
her dress in front of the side slits
fell between them her legs. Gathering the falling
material, she held it in front of her
crotch and pumped her pelvis back and forth.
Her bare pussy must have been rubbing
up and down the falling material. She
looked at the camera and smiled, then
at the Candyman, whose prick now stood out
in front of him, with a slight downward
bend, like a fat fishing rod.
My wife
moved closer to the Candyman and told him to unzip her dress.
Tentatively, he reached to her neck
and slowly lowered the zipper to her breasts.
While she fondled her breasts through
her dress, she told him to keep unzipping.
He continued lowering the zipper until
he had reached its end at her crotch. Still
holding her breasts, she stepped back
and continued the rhythmic rotation of her
pelvis. Then she buried her hands
inside the opened zipper at her crotch. Through
the material, I could see her fingers
working at her pussy, the top of her dark bush
visible through the opened zipper.
Again she moved closer to the Candyman, so
that his hard prick almost touched her
hands at her cunt, and told him to pull the
dress off her shoulders. With
one hand on each shoulder, he lowered the dress,
revealing her tits with their engorged
nipples sticking out and the puckered areolas
surrounding the nipples. The dress
slipped down to her waist, supported now by
her hips and the sleeves, which had
slipped to her wrists.
She stepped
back, pulled her arms out of the sleeves, and let the dress slip
to the floor. Now, completely
naked, she smiled at the camera and began caressing
her cunt. She rubbed the fingers
of both hands around clit, then downward to her
swollen labia, which she separated to
reveal their glistening inside surfaces.
Spreading her legs further, she slipped
her right index finger up her cunt, while her
left hand rubbed her clit. She
then lay on her side across the end of the bed. She
bent one knee upward so that her legs
were open, her now oozing cunt pointed
straight at the Candyman. Her
fingers churned up a froth in her cunt and her pelvis
continued its pumping motion.
Then she
looked again at the camera, turned to the Candyman, and
beckoned him forward. He approached
her, with his protruding monster prick just
at the level of her face. When
it was almost touching her face, she sat up and
placed one hand on it. This was
the first time I had seen her touch him, and
butterflies surged in my stomach.
Holding his prick, she looked first at the camera
and then back to the prick. Her
hand looked tiny compared to it. She brought up
the other hand, and with both hands
could barely encircle it. The prick was as large
as her forearm. Forming a circle
with the fingers of both hands, she began to
stroke up and down the Candyman's cock.
Then she cradled his pendulous balls in
both hands, gently gave them a squeeze,
and returned to stroking his prick. Back
and forth she stroked. I could
see the Candyman breathing in rhythm with her
motions, and I could feel my heart beating
to the same rhythm. I took my stiff cock
in my hand and stroked it in time with
the beat of my heart. My wife was giving
another man a hand job before my eyes,
and rather than stopping it, I was
becoming more and more excited.
But it
soon became more than a hand job. Holding his cock up with her
hands, she began to lick the huge knob
at its end, as if she were licking an ice
cream cone. Her tongue went all
around the head of his cock, the tip of her tongue
darted into the pee hole, sucking up
his precum, and then it slithered around the
head again. She opened her mouth
as wide as she could and tried to get the head of
his cock into it. Although she
had no difficulty swallowing my prick to its root,
she could barely get that giant knob
into her mouth. It filled her mouth, as if she
had attempted to engulf the entire scoop
of ice cream in one bite. Her mouth
struggled to move around the head, but
she could get no more in. She freed his
prick from her mouth and resumed licking
it, first down the top side of it, then back
to the head, then down the underside
all the way to his hairy balls, which she also
licked. She continued this licking
until his entire cock was glistening with her
saliva, precum continuing to ooze out
of its tip. She eagerly licked that up. And
while my wife was blowing another man,
I stood in the closet stroking my own
prick. The excitement of seeing
her lips and tongue slobbering over that massive
rod was too much for me. Tremors
racked my body and I began to spurt cum. I
could barely get the tissue up in time
as my prick spasmed and shot its load.
But it
wasn't over yet. My wife stood up and led the Candyman to the side
of the bed nearest me, and had him lie
motionless on his back in what was normally
my place on the bed. Then she
went to the foot of the bed and began to crawl up
his legs, licking his body as she went.
When her head reached his balls, she
carefully licked each one, and then
continued up, licking her way up his cock. She
snaked her way more and more up him
until she completely covered him, his cock
pressed between their bodies.
Still she continued upward. She moved up until her
tits hung over his face. He greedily
sucked on a nipple as she rocked her cunt from
side to side, rubbing it across his
cock. Then she slid still further up until his entire
prick was sticking up between her legs.
She reached down between them and
nestled the head of his prick between
her cunt lips and began to rotate her hips
about the junction she had just made.
In the
closet I could feel the pulse in my stomach. I had watched my wife
jerk off another man and suck him off.
Was I going to stand there and watch her
fuck him? And with a camcorder
recording it all? Wasn't this too much?
Shouldn't I rush out and stop it before
it went any further? But the fact of it is that
I didn't want it to stop. I wanted
it to go on. I wanted to see her fucking that
monster prick. It was the most
exciting thing I had ever seen. My fist pounded up
and down on my cock and it was all I
could do to restrain myself from calling out
to her, "Yes, yes, fuck that horse prick!
Hump it! Fuck!"
But such
a call would have been unnecessary. My wife had wiggled her
cunt down so that the head of the Candyman's
prick was now inside. Slowly,
giving her cunt time to expand, she
wiggled lower. First she would push down a
little, then hump up and down until
that part of his cock was thoroughly covered
with her copious cunt juices.
Then she would push a little further, capturing more
and more of that giant shaft inside
her cunt. I could see her labia stretched around
his cock. Would he tear her open?
I had to reassure myself that a cunt could
stretch to pass a baby, surely it could
stretch sufficiently to engulf even as fat a
prick as the one now testing my wife.
Now she
had half his cock inside her. This must be close to her limit.
My
cock had hit bottom on occasion, so
surely he couldn't go much deeper. But the
elasticity of the cunt must be incredible,
for she continued to capture more and
more of it. Each time after a
little more went in, she would pull up her hips so that
her cunt rode up his rod, freeing all
but the head. The shine of the juice on his
cock showed how much of it her cunt
had swallowed. With the Candyman lying
motionless though all this, she would
then slide down and push a little further,
holding it there so her cunt had time
to accommodate to the deeper push. Over and
over she repeated this process until,
beyond belief, she had captured the entire giant
cock, and only his massive balls remained
visible.
My wife
paused a bit, as if to catch her breath now that she had the whole
cock inside her, and then began to pump.
She rolled her hips from side to side, she
pumped her ass up and down, she slid
way up on the cock and then down to its
base, with her hair flying around her
head and her tits flopping from side to side
across his chest. The Candyman
could no longer stay still. He began to respond
with thrusts of his own. Now withdrawing
his cock, now ramming it all the way
in. They moved faster and faster.
Their faces distorted with what looked like pain
but I knew to be pleasure. The
camcorder whirred. Their motion got wilder and,
in rhythm with it, I beat my own cock
more and more fiercely.
Somehow
they managed to turn over. Now the Candyman was on top, his
ass in the air pumping up and down as
he drove his big dick in and out of my wife.
Her head whipped from side to side,
tremors ran through her body. She began to
cry out. Then, a shudder went
through the Candyman and he began to cum. So
filled was her cunt with his cock that
the cum soon began oozing out. Her body
trembled and shuddered, her eyes squeezed
shut, and wave after wave of her
orgasm swept across her. He continued
pumping load after load from those huge
balls into my wife, while she continued
to grunt and spasm. I joined in with a burst
of cum that seemed to come from my toes.
Then all
was calm. The Candyman lay on top of my wife for a few
minutes, then silently rose and dressed.
He walked back to my wife, kissed each
nipple and her still dripping cunt,
and said, "I will never forget this," and was gone.
My wife lay there with her legs spread,
a huge puddle of cum on the bedspread
between her legs, motionless except
for the slow rise and fall of her chest. Finally,
after what seemed forever, she rose,
turned off the camcorder and went to the
bathroom and I was able to escape, my
hand filled with cum-soaked tissues.
When I
returned from work that night, there was no sign of the activity.
The camcorder was back in its usual
place, there was a clean spread on the bed, and
the red dress was nowhere in sight.
After dinner, my wife offered me a chocolate
and (as I pretended not to know) told
me that we wouldn't be getting any more, that
the Candyman was gone. "I'll miss
his candy," I said.
"Will
you miss watching?" she replied. Her question stunned me. I
stared
into her unblinking eyes, caught my
breath, and finally responded, "How long have
you known?"
"Almost
since the beginning," she smiled. "I kept noticing that the closet
was opened, but didn't make anything
of it until I saw you running across the back
yard. Then I put two and two together.
I was angry at first, but then I realized that
it excited me, knowing you were watching,
especially since you didn't know that I
was aware of you. Every now and
then I caught a glimpse of you when the light
just caught your face or your hand.
Once, I even saw your prick for a second.
Later, when the Candyman joined me,
I knew you were there. I would look over
there once in a while, but I didn't
want you to know I was looking for you. That's
why I put the camcorder next to the
closet, so I could look for you without you
knowing, and so, later, I could see
everything the way you saw it. All the time, I
had this image of you in the closet,
watching me and jerking off. Whatever I was
doing, that image excited me to a higher
level.
"Why did
you want me to jerk of in front of you?" I asked.
"I wanted
your image in my mind, whenever I thought of you in the closet.
As long as I had never seen a man jerk
off, I could imagine you in any way I
wanted. But after seeing the Candyman
stroking his huge cock, his image began to
intrude. I needed to see you doing
it so that your image would displace his in my
mind."
"And did
it?" I asked skeptically?
"Oh, yes,"
she responded, smiling. "His prick is bigger, but your prick is
the one I love."