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From: skipper@pipeline.com (Skipper)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: STORY - The Game (wife at poker party)
Date: Sat, 30 Nov 1996 15:42:46 GMT
Organization: MindSpring Enterprises, Inc.
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                               "THE GAME"
By BILL and ELLEN

ELLEN'S STORY:

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.

******************
To be continued...
******************


