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Message-ID: <38048asstr$1030641003@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "Spiller -" <spiller48@hotmail.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} POOR ALFRED ? (M+/F)
Date: Thu, 29 Aug 2002 13:10:03 -0400
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This is a story of adult content. If you are too young, or if this material 
is forbidden where you live, you should leave now.
Remember: Authours' only rewards are your comments, positive or negative, so 
please take a minute of your time and mail an opinion to:
Spiller48@hotmail.com



POOR ALFRED ?  (M+/F)

	A short story by Spiller.

CHAPTER ONE.

	He told me his story one cold Friday night at my favourite oasis, 
`Charlie's Hangout.' I had noticed him a few times, but you could nowhere 
say he was a regular. I had noticed him because he always looked a bit 
gloomy, and the few times I had seen him he had finished his last beer at 
about quarter to twelve, and then he left.

This Friday night he was there when I entered at about half past nine. 
Sitting at his table with his beerglass almost empty. As I passed him on my 
way to the bar I said: "See you're running dry. Can I bring you another?"

	"Yeah, thank you."

	At the bar I dealt my usual nods and `hello's, got my two Carlsberg 
draughts and returned to his table.

	"There you are. I'm Peter, by the way. May I sit down?"

	"Sure. I'm Alfred."

	"I've seen you a few times, but you're not a regular."

	"No. I only come here about once a month."

	"Yes, that figures. You don't seem to have much fun, though."

	"Can't say that I do. I don't come here to have fun, only to pass the 
evening and to get a little drunk."

	"Oh, is that so? How come?"

	"Aaww, that's a long and strange story, it wouldn't interest you."

	"On the contrary. Long and strange stories interest me very much, 
especially if it's a story which explains why a guy, who looks to have made 
it, is so gloomy."

	"What do you mean?"

	"Well, you're a pretty handsome man, your clothes, your watch, your 
language and your behaviour don't tell of a looser."

	"You could say that. I'm not a looser, and then, I am in a way. That's the 
strange story."


	"If you want to tell it, I'm very interested. I'm a good listener, and I 
love long and strange stories."

	"I don't know why I trust you to keep it a secret, but I do, and I have to 
say that I'd like to get it off my chest."

	"You can trust me in that department. I'd never tell your secret to 
anyone."

	"OK, then. Let me get us a refill, before I start."

	He got up, and returned from the bar with two pints of draught.

	"You see, it started way back, in college. I had only ten months left 
before I'd qualify as an electronic engineer. Then I met my fate at a party. 
Her name was Carla."

	He lifted his glass and saluted me. We took a sip, and he continued:

	"I was infatuated from minute one. My attention was drawn to her at first 
because of her extraordinary beauty, but I quickly found out that she was 
very bright, sensitive, had a lot of humour, and she was an excellent 
dancer. Contrary to my expectations, but very much in line with my hopes, we 
ended up in bed at my place. Neither of us was a virgin, and we really went 
to town. At four o'clock in the morning we had finally reached a level of 
exhaustion where we simply had to go to sleep, only to wake up seven hours 
later to continue where we left. She was not only beautiful, she was a 
randy, uninhibited and wicked lover. Sunday at brunch we talked about where 
to go in the afternoon. I had had my mind set on an opera matinee, and when 
her first proposal was that we went to an opera matinee, if I in any way 
could stand opera, I was lost."

	His face had lost a lot of its gloom while he recounted this first meeting. 
We took another sip of our beers, and Alfred continued:

	"Over the next two months my infatuation gradually changed into a deep and 
sincere love. A little worm kept nagging me: Why had this wonderful woman 
not yet been spoken for? On the other hand, I was free on the market too, so 
what? Our graduation was getting closer. Carla had studied French and 
American literature. Graduation usually meant getting a job, wherever one 
was to be found, and the possibility of us being separated was very close to 
my mind. When we had known each other for seven months I felt absolutely 
sure, that if ever I was to get married, Carla was to be the woman. I 
started dropping little hints in that direction, and at first she seemed not 
to notice. Two months before graduation I brought up the subject again, 
getting as close to a proposal as possible, without crossing the line. This 
made her look at me with love in her eyes, but also with a sudden sadness, I 
couldn't understand. "Oh, oh," she said, "here we go."

	At this point Alfred stopped. He grabbed his glass and drained it, and then 
he looked at me: "I think I'll need another beer before I can go on with 
this." So I drained my glass too, and went to the bar for another two pints.

	"Carla had this love and sadness in her eyes when she told me, that she had 
never loved anybody as much as she loved me, but it was impossible for her 
to marry me. It was none of my fault, she said, it was all hers. Of course I 
wanted to know why, but she said she wasn't so sure I'd like to know. And of 
course I pressed her, and at last she said: "All right, Alfred, let's get it 
out. Open a bottle of wine, and let's sit down. This is going to take some 
time." And then she started telling me a long story, much in the same way 
I'm telling you mine right now."

	Alfred looked up at me and raised his glass. "Cheerio, mate. And brace 
yourself." We sipped our beer in silence for a little while, and then he 
started talking again.

	"She told me she had this `kink', `quirk', `perversion', or whatever I'd 
like to call it. "And don't you think I haven't tried to fight it." She had 
seen a shrink for over two years, she'd tried to withdraw, but she said that 
much like men who have to dress up in women's clothes sometimes, you can 
only fight it for so long, and then you just have to give in, no matter the 
consequences. She told me she tried to withdraw again about four months ago, 
when she had realised that she was falling seriously in love with me, but it 
didn't help. She certainly had my attention at that point. I mean, I knew 
about most of the human perversions, and a lot of them I could live with 
easily. What the hell was so terrible that she couldn't marry me?"

	"She was very reluctant, but finally she blurted out: "All right, Alfred, 
there's only one way to tell you: The hard and honest way. I get this 
intolerable craving about once a month: I have to go and get myself fucked 
silly by two or three black guys who use and abuse me. There, now it's out." 
I tell you, I was stunned, and I was silent for several minutes, trying to 
digest this, one way or another. My first inclination was to get up and kick 
her out and never to see her again. What do you think? How would you have 
handled it?"

	He looked up at me again, but this time his eyes did not reveal much.

	"I really don't know, Alfred. I just don't know. You see, perhaps I'm not 
the right person to ask that question. The last five years before my wife 
died, we had a `kink' of a similar kind: I enjoyed sharing my wife now and 
then, with a complete stranger. But then, I had known her for many years, 
and I knew it would not endanger our marriage, and I was the one who took 
the initiative."

	"Well, at least you can understand me, kind of. You see, when the first 
waves of despair had died down, I was left with two strong emotions: I was 
terribly sad, I was devastated, that I was going to lose her, but in a 
strange way it excited me, ...the thought of a woman in that situation. But I 
knew it would be a chest of explosives to use for foundation of a marriage. 
I know it wasn't the most masculine thing to do, but I couldn't prevent my 
tears from rolling down my cheeks. And that's what we did for a while, we 
held each other and we cried a lot."

	"Before you tell me more, let me go and get us another couple of beers. I 
need one, and so must you." Alfred grinned at me and nodded, and when I 
returned to our table he only looked halfway as gloomy.

	"Phew, it was good to get half of it off my chest," he smiled at me, "but 
the worst parts are yet to come. But anyway, thanks. This is the first time 
half of my waiting time has passed so fast."  He lifted his glass, and we 
saluted each other.  "What happened more, that evening?" I asked.

	"Well, I had experienced a couple of times before, that it's often easier 
to talk and tell the truth, when one is driving through the night, so I 
suggested that we got into my car and took a long drive down the coast. And 
in a way it helped at lot, at least it did clarify a lot of things. But on 
the other hand I have often wished, that I'd kicked her out that evening. At 
least my life wouldn't have become this roller coaster ride from despair to 
excitement, from love to contempt."

	"Well, as I drove the car through the dark night, at first our crying died 
down, and then, of course, I wanted to know why. But she couldn't tell, 
because she didn't know. "It has absolutely nothing to do with you, like you 
being inadequate, or something," she said, "on the contrary, you're the best 
lover ever. It's all inside myself." She said I was the first man she'd ever 
wanted to spend her life with, and that was why she was so sad. She had 
learned to accept herself and her perversion, and that was the only benefit 
she had had out of psychoanalysis, even if she'd spent a fortune on shrinks. 
But she also knew, that she was unable to promise me that she'd stop, and 
that it was such a horrendous demand to put to any man. We didn't reach any 
conclusions that night, but at least, when the sun rose over the Atlantic on 
our way back, we had decided not to end our relationship there and then, and 
that I'd need to digest what I'd just learned. But she did convince me, 
though, that she had no greater wish than to become my wife, and that the 
decision was up to me."

	At this point in his narrative Alfred got up and said: "I must take a leak. 
It's all that beer."  I got up too, and we went and got our relief. On the 
way back I ordered two malts at the bar. Felt like I needed one, and if 
Alfred was not into whiskey I could easily drink both. No trouble there, 
though, as he joined me at the bar and we finished them off, and he ordered 
two more to take to our table.

	"This is the first time for a long while that I feel like getting myself 
pissed," he said. "And it's not to drown the sadness, on the contrary. It's 
more like, to Hell with it, let's have it."

	"It dawns upon me, that you must have married her anyway, and that you're 
here while she's somewhere else."

	"You're bloody right, mate. I did marry her, and yes, she's out getting 
herself fucked silly. And for the first time I'm ok with it." He raised our 
second malt: "Here's mud in your eyes, mate, and thank's for that."

	"Must have been a hard decision."

	"It sure was. Took me a couple of months to reach it, but in the end I had 
to admit to myself, that I couldn't live without her, although I knew it 
would be difficult to live with her. For the first two weeks we met a few 
times and talked, and then I couldn't keep my hands off her. And for the 
whole weekend we fucked and cried, fucked and slept, fucked and ate, slept 
..  on and on till Sunday afternoon. And gradually our relationship slipped 
into what it had been before the night when she told me. And I had realised, 
that all the time I had known her, she must have had her monthly bouts, but 
they had only made a difference to me after I knew about them. So what 
happened was this: On the night of our graduation we both had a celebration 
with our families and friends, and we had agreed that when our parties were 
over we'd meet and have one of our own. It was on that occasion I told her, 
that I couldn't live without her, no matter what, and would she marry me. 
She cried a lot again, and said yes, yes, yes, and that she'd write Montreal 
and call off the job she'd been offered there, and that she'd stay here and 
wait for another job to turn up."

	I looked at him. "I can see, it was the last moment, Alfred."

	"Sure."

	"Well, my friend, it's close to midnight now. Time for you to go home, if 
you're going to do the usual thing."

	"Oh, Hell. Let her stew a while when she gets home and doesn't find me 
there as usual. I want to tell you about our wedding before I go, I think 
you'd even enjoy that."

	"OK. Was it that unusual?"

	"You bet. I'm sure you never heard anything like it."

	"You got me there. Tell."

	"OK. We decided to get married as soon as possible, and it became some 
perverted thing. She said she didn't want a church wedding, because she'd 
only make the promise, if she could do so with her panties wet and full of 
sperm, so she knew we didn't promise anything we couldn't live up to. After 
the first chock I accepted. Hell, she was going to get them wet anyway, so 
why not. But then her parents raised Hell. They are very wealthy, very 
proper, very conservative, and THEY demanded a church wedding. And we 
couldn't very well find an excuse to avoid it. So our wedding was like 
something out of a film by Fellini, the only difference was that only Carla 
and I knew. There she was, walking up the aisle by her father's arm, looking 
all innocent and pretty in her white wedding dress, while I knew that she 
had had herself fucked half an hour earlier at a friend's house, and that 
another man's sperm was seeping down into her panties. And after all those 
holy words about God and `till death...' and all, I leaned in to kiss the 
bride, and she smelled like a whorehouse, and I thought I could smell 
somebody else's cock on her breath. That was some wedding, I tell you."

	"Wow, Alfred, you're absolutely right. Never heard anything like it."

	"There was this big reception at her parents' mansion, and as soon as we 
arrived there she whispered to me: "I'm so happy, Alfred, I never thought 
this would happen to me, and I love you so incredibly much. I'm going 
upstairs now to clean myself and get a fresh pair of panties. And I'll 
always do that. Promise." Then she kissed me again, and off she was. When I 
saw her next she was all smiles, and she smelled of lilies and roses."

	"I've got this question, Alfred, and you don't have to answer, if you don't 
want to. Have you never been afraid of social diseases?"

	"I was, until I asked her. She goes to this club, only ten miles from where 
we live today. They are a bunch of rich women who have the same inclination 
as Carla. They have acquired kind of a stable of married black guys, and 
they are very, very careful to obtain certificates of medical examinations 
about once a month from everyone, plus these guys have been sworn to have no 
other relationships than their wives and these women. In some ways they are 
a bunch of cool witches, even if they crave to wallow in the dirt 
sometimes."

	"Wow. They sure are cool. And is that true, that she cleans herself before 
she goes home to you?"

	"Yeah. She almost smells of baby soap when she gets home. And she never 
talks about it. And even if you've seen me here, being gloomy and all, I 
really have no regrets. You know, for the rest of the month I've got the 
horniest wife of them all, and any guy would envy me. She's always willing, 
she's always wet, she's kinky, she's fun and she's beautiful, and she's the 
easiest woman to live with you can imagine. One little hitch, though."

	"And of course you don't want me to ask you what that is, do you?"

	"Yes, of course I do. And I wouldn't tell you if you hadn't told me about 
you and your wife, earlier. Because I know you'll understand."

	"OK, bring it out, even if it's the last thing you do tonight."

	"Well. I have to admit, that the thought of her fucking another guy has 
made me plenty horny at times. But I've never had the benefit. She keeps 
this `kink' to herself. I think I'd really love to watch her with someone 
else, and then fuck her afterwards."

	"I can only say, that with my wife I found it terribly exciting, and some 
of our best fucks were those when she was freshly fucked, or when we talked 
about it in bed."

	"Yeah. Would excite me too. I couldn't ask you a favour, could I?"

	"You can try."

	"OK. And if it doesn't work I can find another caf� where to spend my 
monthly waiting hours. Carla will be at home by now. Could I persuade you to 
come home with me, so we can both fuck her tonight?"

	"Hey, mate. That's a heavy question. Are you sure she'd want to? After all 
I must be about 20 years older than she is."

	"No, I'm not sure she will. But I've thought about this a lot. And if she 
says no I'll tie her up on our bed, and we'll have our will with her."

	"Well, up to a certain degree I'm with you. No hard stuff, though, can you 
agree to that?"

	"Sure, I wouldn't want to do that myself. Come on, let's go. I live only 
two blocks away."

	This evening surely had taken an unexpected turn. We didn't talk much for 
the 7 or 8 minutes it took us to reach Alfred's apartment.

	"Ah, she's still up," Alfred said. "The light is on, up there on the second 
floor."

	As we entered his apartment Alfred didn't say anything, and soon we heard 
her voice from the living room: "Alfred, is that you? Alfred?"

	"Yeah, it's me," he said, as he entered the room.

	"But where have you been?" she asked.

	"Where I've always been on these nights, only this time I've done a lot of 
talking with Peter. Meet Peter." He showed me into the room.

	A stunningly beautiful woman got up from the sofa and came towards us. 
"Hello, Peter. And hello, Alfred." She reached out her hand towards me, and 
we shook hands, whereupon she went to Alfred and kissed him.

	"A little late for guests, isn't it? But it's all right. What can I bring 
you? Coffee? A glass of wine? A cold beer?"

	"We've had beer all evening, so we'd better stick to that, dear."

	She flashed him a pretty smile and a little later she returned with three 
cold beers and three glasses. "And what makes you bring Peter `round at this 
time of night?" Her question looks harder in print than it sounded when she 
voiced it.

	"Well, Peter and I had a long, long talk tonight, and I told him a lot 
about us."

	"You didn't, did you?" I thought I saw a glimpse of surprise in her eyes, 
but it was quickly replaced by what I interpreted as love. "Well, if you 
trust Peter to keep our secret I think it may be very, very good for you to 
have a friend to confide in."

	"I trust him, all right. And it's been a very good evening for me. And I've 
come to realise a few things about myself."

	"Then tell me, love. You know how I feel that this is pretty unfair to you, 
and anything that might help you is ok with me."

	"Among a lot of other things I found out, that I have a strong wish to fuck 
you together with another guy. And that's why we're here. And if you want to 
protest, I'll tie you up on our bed and do it anyway."

	"But I don't want to protest, Alfred, love. If that is what you wish you 
don't need to tie me up. Only your timing is not the best."

	"Please, explain yourself."

	"Well, first of all it's late, and if you'll pardon the expression I'm 
really fucked out. If we do this, I'd want it to be a wonderful experience 
for you. Couldn't we make a date for tomorrow? I'd love to cook a nice meal, 
and then we'd have all evening to ourselves. What do you say? And what do 
you say, Peter?"

	I could see why Alfred was so much in love with her. These most unusual 
sentences were delivered with a loving smile to her husband, and I had no 
reason whatsoever to doubt her sincerity. Alfred looked at me.

	"For my part I can only say it's fine. I have no appointments for tomorrow, 
and in fact I think I'd feel better about it."

	"To be honest, I think I would too," Alfred said.

	"So we have a date then?" She smiled to us. "Shall we say at 7?"

	"Sure," I said, and Alfred nodded.

	We took about ten minutes to finish our beers, and there was a lot of nice 
and cosy small-talk, as if this was any ordinary evening. At last I got up 
and said goodnight to this most unusual couple. Alfred and Carla both hugged 
me in the doorway, and my last remark was: "Give me a call if you change 
your minds, eh? If I hear nothing I'll be here at 7."

	My head was spinning as I walked back through the dark and silent streets. 
My own flat was one block away on the other side of `Charlie's Hangout', but 
even if I really could do with a shot of malt and a beer to calm down, I 
didn't want to face the regulars there. So I dropped in at a small bar, a 
little before I reached `Charlie's'. It had been quite some evening, and I 
needed some time to contemplate, partly what Alfred had told me, and partly 
the part I was going to play Saturday evening. I couldn't in all fairness 
say, that my contemplation brought me any clarity, so in the end I just 
walked home, dropped into my bed and fell asleep a few minutes later.

CHAPTER TWO.

	I didn't wake up until noon on Saturday. A couple of cups of coffee brought 
me back to this world, and of course I couldn't avoid thinking a lot about 
what happened last night. The talk with Alfred had been highly interesting, 
but my mediocre attempts to analyse his situation didn't help me much. In a 
way I felt a bit sorry for the guy, but on the other hand I didn't. I'd got 
the impression, that for 29 days of the month he had a beautiful, devoted 
and horny wife. I don't know many married guys who wouldn't settle for that 
! So she had this kink. And so what? He knew about it when he married her, 
and apparently it changed nothing in her love for him. Maybe he was just a 
bit envious, and maybe that was why he had invited me to fuck his wife.

	I got nowhere near a reasonable explanation, but I remembered how terribly 
exciting it had been to fuck my wife and to watch another guy do it first. 
Having come so far I decided to go there at 7 as we had agreed. I turned on 
my answering machine in case they would call it off, and then I went for a 
long walk in the nearby park. When I returned at about four I went to bed 
and had a nice two-hour sleep, showered and shaved, dressed nicely but 
casual, and at 7 I rang the bell at Alfred's and Carla's.

	It was Carla who opened the door, and my God did she look like something 
out of heaven. Very dark, brown, wavy hair hanging below her shoulders, 
beautifully curved eyebrows and a wonderful straight, narrow nose. Her eyes 
were shining as she welcomed me and received the bottle of Portuguese vino 
verde I had brought along. She guided me into the living room and made an 
excuse for Alfred. "He's still in the shower, but I guess he'll be here in a 
minute or two. I have to admit that I delayed him somewhat."

	God, this woman was something. I looked her over without being too obvious, 
and I couldn't have found a better sight. She was dressed in a slinky, shiny 
white dress, which showed off her slim body to its best, and also revealed 
that she was wearing nothing under it.

	"Make yourself comfortable, Peter. I'll be in the kitchen for ten more 
minutes, and by then Alfred will be ready for dinner."

	"Anything I can do to help?"

	"Not really. Oh, yes. I can feel you have chilled this wine. If you will 
open the bottle we can have it as a welcome drink. I like vino verde very 
much, but I've only tasted it a couple of times. It's slightly bubbly and 
tastes very fresh, as far as I remember."

	"You're right there." She handed me a bottle-opener, and showed me the 
cupboard with glasses, so I took the opened bottle and three glasses into 
the living-room.

	Alfred entered the room, looking freshly scrubbed, and with a big smile on 
his face. "Hi, Peter. Carla delayed me a little, hope you don't mind." He 
didn't look at all as if he minded.

	Carla joined us. She took one of the glasses and looked at us. "Well, 
Alfred, are we going to say `welcome' to Peter?" We drank a toast to each 
other, and then Carla announced that dinner was ready. She had prepared a 
large plate of different kinds of sea food, like shrimp, scallops, bits of 
lobster, and all, plus a few vegetables and fresh, warm bread. Really 
lovely.

	"I thought it would be too obvious to include oysters," Carla said with a 
big smile. Apart from that the conversation around the dinner table was 
nothing out of the ordinary, perhaps except from the fact that it revealed 
Carla as a very intelligent, educated and fun person. Towards the end of the 
meal she turned in her chair to face me directly.

	"You know, of course Alfred and I have done a lot of talking today, and he 
says he's told me all that happened last night. I can't tell you how happy I 
am, that he finally got some of it off his chest. And I have realised, that 
I've been too selfish and haven't taken all that care of him, including him 
and all. I love him so dearly, he knows that all right, but I should have 
thought a little more of his needs and lusts. My only excuse could be, that 
deep down I think I'm a little ashamed of myself, but I can't really fight 
it.... Phew, this is a long speech! Let's drink!" She raised her glass, and we 
saluted her. Then she resumed:

	"I want you to know, that whatever we are going to do tonight I do not only 
for Alfred's benefit. I certainly hope it'll be great for me too. He said 
you had voiced some concern, that you are too old. You're not. It's just 
perfect for me, because the age difference shall make it crystal clear to 
Alfred, that he's never going to lose me because of you. Sorry, that doesn't 
sound as polite as it was meant. Am I insulting you?"

	"Not at all, Carla. I get your point, and it's very sensible. And I hope we 
can give you a nice experience, me and Alfred."

	"Well, give us a hand, then, putting these things in the dishwasher, while 
Alfred finds some smoochy music for the stereo, and some light drinks for us 
all."

	When we returned from the kitchen Alfred had dimmed the light, and some 
lovely, slow, jazzy dance music filled the room. Carla reached out for me 
and said: "Let's dance."

	God, she felt so wonderful in my arms and to my hands. That slinky, white 
dress felt so smooth, and her skin almost burned through it into my hands. 
Suddenly she whispered into my ear: "You should use your hands a little. 
Alfred will love to see you feel me up." So I pushed her a little way off 
me, and made her turn round and round in front of me, while my hands felt 
her body move, touching her ass, her belly, her waist and her breasts. After 
a minute of this her nipples were trying to poke their way through the 
material.

	"Look, Alfred, he's really making my nipples hard. Like to touch them?" He 
got up from the sofa and took over the dancing. They made absolutely no 
secret of it, he fondled her pert breasts and he pinched her nipples, making 
her push her pelvis against him in a rhythmic movement. She put her hands on 
his shoulders and pushed him out at arm's length.

	"And now I want Peter to make my pussy really wet. Do you want that too, 
Alfred? Do you want him to make me very wet? I'm quite damp already, you 
know."

	Alfred nodded and turned her round and pushed her towards me. She swayed 
her hips as she walked the two steps towards me, and leaned heavily against 
me. I let my hands slide down her body to grab her ass and press her hard 
against me. No doubt she'd feel my hard cock against her belly. Suddenly 
Alfred stepped up to us, grabbed the hem of her dress and started pulling it 
up. Carla let go of me, stretched her arms up, and off came the dress. There 
she was in all her naked splendour, looking even more erotic than I would 
have thought. Small, beautifully pert breasts, a narrow waist, rounded hips 
and a flat belly with a closely cropped dark triangle where her slender 
thighs started. She turned round and backed up to me.

	"Put your arms round me and play with my pussy and my breasts so Alfred can 
see, what you are doing." Who was I to protest? When my right hand hit 
target I found out she was lying. She was not damp. She was very, very wet 
and slippery. She humped her pussy against my fingers, and suddenly she 
groaned: "God, this is so exciting. I love it when you watch me like that, 
Alfred. Do you like it too? He's making me terribly horny. If you like it, 
then show me."

	Alfred smiled happily, and in ten seconds he was naked. A magnificent cock 
was pointing upwards, and he backed up to the sofa, sat down and grabbed his 
cock with his right hand. Carla was gyrating to the music in my arms, 
pushing her pussy harder and harder against my hand, and then pushing her 
firm ass against the hard cock in my trousers. I pinched her nipples with my 
left hand and began masturbating her with two fingers on her clit, moving up 
and down her slippery crack.

	"Aaaaahh, what a lovely sight," Alfred groaned. "Looks like he's really 
making you hot. Is he? Is he making you hot for some cock?"

	"Ooohh, yes, he is. It's so good because you are watching."

	"MMmmm," he mumbled. "Then make her come, Peter. Make her come before we 
begin to fuck her."

	I held on to Carla while I backed us up to one of the armchairs. As I sat 
down I think she got the idea. She pressed her naked ass down on me, and 
then she swung her left leg over the armrest. All the time my right hand had 
been busy between her legs, but now she must have been an exciting sight for 
Alfred, being all open like this. "Rub me now," she panted. "He wants to see 
me come on your fingers, so do it." God, she was wet. My fingers were 
slipping easily up and down her crack. My left hand moved from her breast 
down to her belly, and I pressed hard down on it, which made her cunt look 
even more prominent, and as far as I could feel, the tip of her clit peeked 
out of its hood.

	"Oohhh, this is so good, Alfred. I'm going to come now, Oh God, look at me. 
I'm so terribly horny. Rub that lovely cock, Alfred. Masturbate it for me. 
Oooooo, I'm coming, I'm coming, I'M COMING..." She humped her cunt up and down 
on my right hand, while my left hand could feel the most delicious cramps 
running through her belly. No faking with this lady !

	"That was lovely, Carla. I loved to watch it. Now, would you please get up 
and start undressing my friend? I should like to see both of you naked 
before we go to the bedroom."

	"Of course, dear." Her smile betrayed her willingness, and I began to 
believe, that she had really set her mind to enjoy this. "I shall just hug 
him first. It was so erotic to be naked and feel his clothes against my back 
and bottom, now I want to feel the same against my tits and my belly." She 
embraced me and rubbed her body against me, a little exaggerated, halfway 
between fun and enjoyment. Then she started to undress me, piece by piece, 
letting her hands roam on every piece of skin which was bared, so towards 
the end I was standing there with a very hard cock making a tent out of my 
Y-fronts, and my skin glowing all over, from head to toe, from her caresses. 
Finally she grabbed the waistband of my underpants, and as she lowered them 
she knelt in front of me. When I stepped out of them, I felt her hands grab 
my ass and pull me towards her, and suddenly her hot, red lips enveloped my 
cock. She was very good !  But then, mine was not the first cock to enter 
that lucious mouth, was it? She spent a minute on my cock, nursing yet 
another millimetre or two out of it.

	She let go of me, and walked on her knees to the sofa. "Can I have a taste 
of yours, too, just for comparison, you know." Alfred let go of his cock, 
but she stopped him. "No, you hold it to my mouth, and if you want to make 
me really horny, you'll masturbate slowly so your hand hits my mouth." She 
leaned her elbows on Alfred's thighs and went to town on his big, hard cock. 
When his masturbating hand began hitting her in the face she groaned loudly 
through her filled mouth, and wriggled her ass invitingly towards me. She 
let go of his cock for a second, only to pant: "Oh, God, lick my ass, Peter, 
just for a second. This is divine." My worst fears were put to shame. There 
was not even the slightest hint of bad smell or taste to her ass. Perhaps 
she had even taken an enema before I came.

	"Oh, God," she suddenly cried out. No more of this. Please, take me to bed 
and fuck me. I'm so terribly horny."

	Alfred quickly got up from the sofa. He bent down, grabbed Carla like she 
was a doll, and threw her over his shoulder. "We can't have a wish like that 
stay unfulfilled, can we Peter? Let's go." In the bedroom he practically 
threw Carla down on the huge bed, making her body bounce a couple of times 
on the mattress. "Spread your legs, love, and be ready for Peter."

	I managed to whisper to Alfred: "It used to make my wife terribly horny if 
I guided a stranger's cock to her pussy. Do you think Carla would feel the 
same way?"

	"We'll try," he whispered. "Come on, Carla, spread your legs nice and wide, 
and if you're a good girl I'll take Peter's cock and guide it to your cunt."

	"Oohhhh, you wicked you." She lifted her head so she could watch what was 
going on between her legs. I kneeled on the bed, and Alfred lay down beside 
his wife, grabbed my cock with his left hand and rubbed it up and down her 
crack a few times. She was very, very slippery. "Oh, for Heavens sake, 
Alfred, put it in. I can't wait. My God, to see you feed another man's cock 
to me, it's so wicked and naughty. Give it to me, come on. Fuck me."

	Finally Alfred said: "Go, mate, you're there." God, it was Heaven finally 
to slide into her. Never, ever, have I felt such a cunt. Even during our 
wildest threesomes my wife's never got anything near this. Carla was hot as 
a furnace, I could feel her juices sloshing round my cock as I worked it in 
and out, and it felt as if she was wildly alive in there. On top of it she 
was whimpering and moaning all the time, and she grabbed her knees, which 
were spread wide and bent back almost to her shoulders, and started a 
rocking motion under me. Meanwhile Alfred had leaned in and started kissing 
her, while his left hand moved to her breasts, mauling them and pinching her 
nipples. I could feel that I was going to last nowhere near as long as I 
desired.

	"Alfred. God, she's good. I'm not going to last very long. You should try 
one of the things I loved to do. Put two fingers down and feel how a 
stranger's cock is sliding in and out of your wife's whoring cunt."

	"Ohhh, yes. Do it, Alfred," she moaned. "Feel your whore getting it from a 
stranger. Oh, my God, if you do it I'm going to come."

	Alfred slipped his hand in between us, and I felt two fingers close in on 
my cock. "Shit, did you piss on him, or are you really this horny? Your cunt 
is sopping wet."

	"Aaahhh. Ohhh. I didn't piss him, but I'm so horny I could do it. Grrr, 
kiss me, you nasty man, and I'll come like an explosion.  KISS ME. FUCK 
MEEEEEE."

	The bottom of her cunt opened up so it felt big as a cathedral, fluttering 
round the head of my cock, and she started screaming as she began to come. I 
recited my favourite poem in my head, trying to postpone my own orgasm. 
Carla was screaming and wriggling under me, and gradually her screams turned 
into rough groans, as her orgasm was dying out. That's when I dropped the 
poem and started fucking her hard and fast for the last thirty seconds I 
knew I'd last. This brought her wild screams back as she started yet another 
orgasm. With a deep moan I emptied myself into this wonderful woman, and 
then I collapsed on top of her, bearing down hard on Alfred's hand, which 
was still feeling us up.

	Gradually I returned to Earth and became aware of Alfred's hand between us. 
I rolled over on my left side, pulling out my cock in the process, and 
looked down on Carla. God, she looked exactly as I love a woman to look: A 
satisfied smile on her face, pearls of sweat on her forehead and between her 
breasts, and my sperm seeping out of her cunt into Alfred's hand.

	"Aaaaa, this was good," she said. "Did you enjoy it, love? Did you like to 
see him fuck me so good?"

	"Yessss, I loved it. And I love to feel his sperm running out of your well 
fucked cunt."

	"Why don't you feel it with your cock? I'm warmed up and ready to go, you 
know."

	"Yeah, very exciting. I'm burning all over, and my cock is sooo hard."

	"I'll do it one better, love. Roll over on your back." When Alfred was 
lying on his back, with his magnificent cock sticking straight up in the 
air, Carla straddled his chest. She had just started moving down towards his 
cock when she winked at me and moved up again while she raised her body so 
she was standing high on her knees, right over his chest.

	"Come on, Alfred, take a good look at my cunt and tell me what you see. 
Does it make you horny that it looks this way?"

	"God, Carla, I haven't been this horny for ages. I see a wide open cunt 
with another guy's sperm seeping out of it, and your hole is so open I can 
look up into you. My God, woman, will you get that cunt down and wrap it 
around my cock. I want to feel it."

	She moved down all right, and with a deep sigh she impaled herself on her 
husband. "Aaa, do you feel the sperm running down your cock? This is so 
nasty, Alfred, so nasty. If you're a good boy I'll let you eat it next 
time." And then she started a slow, languid fucking on him. Apparently she 
enjoyed every movement his cock made in her sloppy cunt. She moved upwards 
till his head was barely inside, and then a slow, sensual descent until her 
cunt hit his pelvic bone.

	I sat up in the bed and stroked Carla's hair for a little while. Then I 
said: "I'll do what I remember I enjoyed with my wife the first times: I'll 
leave you two alone to savour this moment. You know where to find me, if you 
should like to talk or meet some other time. It's been wonderful for me, and 
Carla, you are one beautiful woman. Take good care of him."  Carla had 
stopped her fucking while I talked, and now she leaned over and kissed me. 
"Thank you, Peter. This has been so lovely, much more than I thought. I 
could get addicted to this." She laughed and smiled to Alfred. He and I 
shook hands in a ridiculously formal way, and I got off the bed, when to the 
living room and got dressed. As I slipped out of the front door I could hear 
the bed creaking in the bedroom.

	Over the next two weeks I met with Alfred and Carla three times, things 
getting wilder and wilder with each time. Based on my own experience I 
advised them to find another man to swing with, and that was almost the end 
of that acquaintance. But I cannot say I was surprised, when I entered 
`Charlie's Hangout' about ten days later and found Alfred at his usual 
table. Only this time he did not look gloomy at all, and it was a lot 
earlier than his usual time.

	"Hi Peter."

	"Hi Alfred. This time of the month?"

	"Well, not really. I'm only here to say thank you. Carla is at home, 
waiting for me to pick up a new guy and bring him home. Would you believe 
me, on her own initiative she suggested, that for the time being she wanted 
me to bring home a new lover instead of her going to her `club', at least 
half of the times."

	"Is that so?"

	"Really. We've had a lot of fun remembering the times you were with us, and 
we're very happy that our first time was with a kind and experienced guy 
like you."

	"Thank you, Alfred. Well, then you must give my love to Carla when you get 
back."

	"I'll do one better, mate."  He fetched a small plastic bag from his 
pocket. "This is a gift from Carla. She ordered me to tell you, she has worn 
these panties all day, and that she has masturbated in them three times. And 
my gift has been cleared with Charlie. This evening is on me mate. Have a 
good time."

	He got up and left. And that was the last I saw of Alfred. I could not say 
if he has found another `hangout' or if Carla has cut down further on her 
escapades.

	When I discreetly opened the little plasticbag it contained a pair of 
silky, flimsy panties, smelling strongly and deliciously of Carla.









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