This story was inspired by a lengthy letter that appeared long ago 
in Xaviera Hollander's column in "Penthouse" magazine.




                          MATCH MAKER
                     
                              by 

                          C. Lakewood 

                           



    Up until recently, my life had been fairly conventional.  I'd 
partied some in college -- nothing too wild, though -- and majored 
in Education.  After graduating, I taught for 9 years (getting 
married along the way, at 26), but finally realized I was just 
burned out on teaching.  Fortunately, I had a nice alternative.  
So here I was at age 32, a stay-at-home, suburban housewife.  (No 
kids -- my husband's infertile -- but that's fine...I've had my 
fill of youngsters.  Chris teaches high school English and is much 
more suited to it than I ever was.  I'd come to think of him as an 
"okay" husband -- nice, comfortable, but often rather inadequate.)
   
    And then I discovered Chris's secret, and things changed.

    It was a rainy morning in late April, and I'd decided to 
spend the whole day in spring cleaning.  I'd made pretty good 
start by early afternoon, when I decided to organize a thick 
sheaf of recipes and began looking around for a 3-ring binder 
to use for the purpose.  Poking about in Chris's "office," I 
found a couple that would be perfect.  Each was less than half 
full, so all I had to do was to consolidate the contents.  And 
then I discovered that one of the binders contained page after 
page of letters-to-the-editor photocopied from various men's 
magazines.  Each one was dated.  A quick riffle through the book 
showed me that the collection spanned years, and, while the 
sources may have been varied, the theme was consistent.  Some of 
the letters were well-written and subtle; some were crude; most 
were blatantly graphic.  They used different terms -- "sharing," 
"wife-watching," "cuckoldry," "open marriage," "spreading it 
around," etc. -- but it all added up to the same thing.

    I was wondering if Chris could really entertain such 
fantasies...about me!  The very first letter in the binder was 
protected by a high-quality, clear plastic sleeve, suggesting 
that it was handled much more than the rest and, therefore, 
probably a favorite of Chris's.  Intrigued, I sat down at the 
desk and began to read it with growing interest.


		----- LETTER OF THE MONTH -----


    Rachel and I are in our late-30s.  Although it was clear she'd 
not exactly been a nun before we were married, she still claims 
that I'm the only man she'll ever need.  I always just smile and 
nod, as though I believe her.  Frankly, I never really cared much 
about her past, because, before I got married, I'd screwed around 
with dozens of women.

    But, there came a time when, after 7 years of "wedded bliss," 
I had to face the fact that my life had gotten pretty dull.  I 
knew that some of our friends were into swinging and swapping, 
and I suggested that we try it, too, as an experiment.  But 
she refused.  And every time I'd bring it up, she'd trot out 
the same old lame excuses, practically word-for-word: "yada, 
yada...respectable married woman...yada, yada...gossiping 
friends...yada, yada...dangerous strangers...yada, 
yada...marriage vows...yada, yada...jealousy...yada, 
yada, yada...."  It was damned tiresome.

    Since I couldn't persuade her to go along with the idea, I 
decided to see if maybe I could ease her into it, by setting up 
some "situations" that would seem accidental.

    The first time was almost 6 years ago, and involved an 
out-of-town salesman I met at work and went out for a drink with 
afterward.  Glen was a big, beefy guy, with plenty of energy, but 
not real bright.  I spun him a line of bull that Rachel was a 
horny, cock-teasing slut, but insisted on pretending she wasn't.  
I told him she needed to play it all prim and proper...needed 
to be strong-armed by a real man who wouldn't take no for an 
answer....
 
    He was more than ready to play "the game."  

    When we got to my house, I introduced Glen to my wife as an 
old army buddy who was just passing through town.  Of course, we 
had to celebrate with drinks before and after dinner.  With the 
drinks, there was conversation and laughs and slow dancing....

    At one point, returning after taking a piss, I heard some 
intriguing, muffled sounds and crept softly up so I could do some 
listening (and peeking).

    They were on the couch, sitting very close.  Her skirt was 
halfway to her waist, and Glen was nuzzling her neck.  I backed 
up, made some noise, and gave her a moment to recover (which she 
did).

    Thinking that things might develop favorably (but not with 
me around), I told them that I had just gotten an emergency call 
from work on my cell phone and needed to go straighten things out.  
I said that it shouldn't take long -- an hour or so....  My wife 
suggested that Glen should go along, but I simply ignored her and 
dashed off. 

     I actually waited around the corner for nearly 2 hours.  When 
I got back home, I found them sitting and chatting, quite sedately. 
I wondered if anything had happened, and it didn't look very 
promising -- until I noticed that Rachel, who had been wearing 
pantyhose, was now bare-legged.

    Later, when I drove the guy back to his motel, he told me that 
she had put up some resistance, for a while, turning him on more 
and more, getting him into her game.  He said that, in the end, he 
had to pin her down and rip off her panties and pantyhose.  Then, 
after fucking her, he stripped her naked and told her she couldn't 
have her clothes back until she gave him a long, loving blow job.  
He said she was pretty good at it, too...sucked him completely 
dry...and swallowed the whole load.  

    Driving back home, I tried to imagine what Rachel's reaction 
was going to be -- but she completely surprised me by just acting 
as though nothing at all had happened.  I asked a few casual 
questions, but never learned anything much.  (And, of course, I 
didn't want to give myself away.) 

			* * * * * * * 

    Things went back to normal then, for almost four months, until 
we went on vacation to Southern California.  We hooked up with two 
other married couples and three Japanese businessmen, who were all 
staying in the same motel.  During the first two or three days, we 
mainly did touristy things, but we always spent several hours a 
day at the beach.  Early on, I managed to sabotage Rachel's rather 
conservative swim suit, rendering it unwearable.  To replace it, I 
bought her a really skimpy white bikini made by an Aussie firm, 
Wicked Weasel.  The other guys had seemed to enjoy watching her 
strut about in her old suit, so I figured this one would really 
generate interest.  Apparently so did Rachel, because, though she 
protested that that bikini was "absolutely obscene," her objections 
didn't prevent her from wearing it.  On Friday, one of the other 
guys had a birthday, and the nine of us drank and danced and 
chatted until the bar closed.  Tamura, the senior Jap, invited us 
to go back to his cabin and continue the party there.

    Tamura (or "Tam") had been coming on to Rachel for a couple 
of days and had been particularly attentive all evening, so I 
had hopes of something developing -- particularly since we were 
all tipsy, to varying degrees.  

    As it happened, there was a some general groping for a while 
(all pretty PG stuff), but eventually things began to wind down, 
instead of heating up.  Rachel went to the bathroom, and, almost 
immediately, the party dissolved.  Several people wanted to go out 
and get something to eat, and some others (mostly the women) just 
wanted to turn in.  

    Moments later, Tam and I were the only ones left (besides 
Rachel, who was still in the john).  Seizing the opportunity, I 
told Tam that I was feeling totally beat and was going back to my 
cabin and hit the sack.  I asked him to let Rachel know.  Once 
outside, of course, I scurried around to the side of the cabin 
and took up a great position from which I could peer through a 
partially open window.  I'd be able to see and hear everything!  
(I just hoped there'd be something good to see and hear.) 

    I didn't have to wait long.

    Rachel came out of the bathroom and seemed quite surprised to 
find that everyone but Tam was gone.  He told her that I had just 
gone for ice.  Then he suavely locked the door.  Rachel's 
breathing got heavier, but she didn't say anything...even when 
he started kissing her.  She accepted that passively until he 
pulled down the zipper on the back of her cocktail dress. 

    At this point, she pulled away, but he merely reached out and 
gave her a push that sent her sprawling backward onto the bed.  
He fell on top of her.  As she was struggling (rather feebly) 
under him, he didn't seem to have much difficulty in working 
her bra down off her tits, or in rucking up her dress and 
pulling her panties down to below her knees.  After a few 
minutes' writhing about, he heaved himself up and poured two 
drinks.

    Meanwhile, my wife was straightening herself up some -- 
pulled up her panties and adjusted her bra -- but she didn't 
zip up, I noticed, and she readily suspended her repairs to 
accept the drink he offered.  

    She sipped the drink and watched as he downed his and then 
kicked off his sandals, tossed his shirt away, and dropped his 
Bermudas, revealing a fairly impressive, fully erect cock.  (It 
was about the same length as mine, but easily twice as thick.) 

    He rolled Rachel over onto her stomach, pulled her dress 
right off her, unhooked her bra and got rid of that, too, and 
then practically ripped off her panties.  She was putting up 
a struggle, of sorts, but it seemed pretty insincere to me.

    He held both her hands down, above her head, with his left 
hand and used his right to insert his cock into her.  (It looked 
like she was so juicy already that he didn't need any artificial 
lube at all.)

    This was turning into one terrific show!  (I wished I'd 
brought a camera.) 

    Tam continued to fuck her for a good 15 minutes, maybe more, 
bareback, until he came inside her, grunting in Japanese.  He 
finally climbed off her and went into the bathroom to wash his 
cock.  My wife just lay there, gasping and panting, her legs 
spread wide, her wrists still crossed above her head.

    He made a call on his cell phone, came back into the bedroom, 
and walked over to the bed.  As he stood there, looking down at 
my wife, she raised up, took hold of his soft prick, smiled, and 
popped it into her mouth.

    She began to suck him off, first slowly and lovingly, and 
then with more and more abandon.  After about 5 minutes, he was 
hard again.  He climbed back on top of her, and she guided his 
cock back into her already cum-filled cunt.

    He began fucking her again, more slowly this time, but with 
heavy, powerful strokes.  After a while, Tam rolled over onto 
his back, so that Rachel was on top.  She had to do the work, 
then -- and she didn't seem a bit reluctant!  

    They'd been screwing for 10 minutes or so, when the door 
opened and the other two Japs entered.  Rachel was obviously 
startled to see them...but she kept right on riding Tam, never 
missing a beat.  

    The two newcomers, whom most of us tended to call "Itchy" and 
"Scratchy," were younger than Tam and considerably inferior in 
status.  But they had obviously been prepped.  They wasted no 
time in stripping out of their clothes.  (Itchy was short and 
thick-set, with a pot belly and a medium, uncircumsized cock.  
Scratchy was somewhat taller and much skinnier, with a prick to 
match.)  They lay down on either side of Tam and Rachel and began 
fondling my wife, who continued to toil away.

    When Tam finally orgasmed again, the players re-arranged 
themselves.  Tam slid off the bed, and Itchy crawled underneath 
Rachel so that she could suck on his cock, while Scratchy knelt 
behind her and fucked her brimming cunt for a few strokes.  Then 
he pulled out and aimed his now-slippery cock...right at her 
virgin asshole!  I'd wanted to butt-fuck her for years, but she'd 
always refused.  Now, however, she didn't even seem to notice, as 
she was concentrating on sucking off Itchy.

    Rachel double-holed!  And me without a camera!

    Meanwhile, Tam, after resting up a bit, again washed off his 
cock, then watched the happy threesome for a moment, before waking 
up and hauling out his own camera and recording the scene.  How in 
hell could I get some of those pictures?  (I never did.)      

    Scratchy had remarkably good control, and it looked like Rachel 
was deliberately drawing things out with Itchy, because the three 
of them were going at it vigorously for a good 20 minutes before 
finally collapsing in an exhausted heap.

    But only a few minutes later, Rachel struggled to her feet and 
proceeded to parade around the room, butt-naked.  At length, she 
asked if any of the three wanted to have another go, but they were 
all completely drained.  She shrugged and started picking up her 
clothes.

    I reluctantly took that opportunity to race back to our cabin, 
undress, and scramble into bed.  When Rachel arrived, I was 
pretending to be asleep.  She stripped and, without bothering to 
shower, slid into bed beside me.  She was soon asleep.

    I resisted the impulse to make love to her well-fucked body.  
As much as I wanted her at that moment, I didn't want to risk 
letting the cat out of the bag. 

    In the morning she asked me what had happened to me.  I merely 
replied that I'd told Tam that I was coming back here and asked 
him to tell her that she could stay behind and party some more if 
she wanted.  She nodded and dropped the subject.

    That day, our last, she complained of feeling "off" and said 
she was going to stay in bed.  I met with the others for brunch 
and some final sight-seeing, which took up most of the day.  Most 
of the others were there, at least, though I did notice that Tam 
was absent.

    (Hmmm....)

			* * * * *

    I waited a couple of weeks to let the experience marinate 
a bit, and then I again brought up the idea of swinging.  But, 
just as before, she wouldn't even discuss it.  I just couldn't 
figure it out.  I knew she had damn few inhibitions about 
screwing other guys and would put up only a token resistance 
when they came on to her...as long as I wasn't around....

    In considering the situation, though, I realized how much I 
was enjoying watching her play around, so I forgot about trying 
to get her to swap and, instead, just concentrated on setting up 
situations for her.

    I've kept a notebook with the date, time, place, and other 
details of each "match" I've set up -- with the names, numbers, 
and descriptions (whenever possible) of the guys she serviced.  
In 67 months, I've set up 31 different arrangements, involving 
at least 87 different men.  Each differed in details, and some 
were quite unique.

    She has been fucked in motels, in parking lots, in the back 
rooms of bars.  She has spent a week in a rustic cabin with 4 
Latinos, a weekend with a pair of truckers (and their various 
buddies), and 24 hours in a black frat house with a dozen horny 
young studs.  

    (Having learned my lesson from before, I'd try to document the 
events on film -- or even on tape -- if the situation allowed it.) 

    The best occasion of all was when I took her to an outdoor 
festival/rock concert during Spring Break.  I made sure we were 
"accidentally" separated and then described her to a couple of 
college boys, telling them the usual story: that she was a real 
cock-tease, hot to trot but always having to play a game...to 
pretend she's all prim and proper -- even a bit of a bitch -- and 
to have to be forced into putting out by some real men who wouldn't 
take any of her shit. 

    They were just dumb enough or drunk enough or stoned enough 
-- or horny enough -- to believe me.

    Without much ado, four of them ambushed Rachel, surrounding 
her and hustling her off to a secluded area, with me discreetly 
trailing along behind.    

    She put up her usual token protest, but they just ignored her 
and got right down to business, pushing her to the ground and 
tearing off her clothes.  I watched -- for over 3 hours -- while 
nine different guys took turns, with five of the nine screwing 
her a second time, and two even coming back for thirds, a total of 
16 loads.  (According to my notes, she took 6 in her cunt, 8 down 
her throat, and two up her ass.)  I managed to take 70 photographs. 

    When they'd finished with her, they just left her there -- with 
nothing...naked, bleary, and cum-stained.  I guess the word must 
have spread, though, because pretty soon another bunch of college 
guys swooped in and took her off to wherever.  (I lost track of 
them in the crowd.)  

    I searched around a little bit, but had no luck.  I left, got 
a late lunch/early dinner, checked our camper, and returned to the 
festival area about 5:00.  Finally, I reported her missing to the 
police and the fair security, but nobody seemed too concerned, 
telling me that it's very easy to get lost in the sort of crowds 
they'd had.  I just nodded and gave them her description (though 
I didn't tell them that the last time I'd seen her, she was 
butt-naked and headed for Round 2 of a gang-bang.

    After looking around the fairgrounds some more on my own, I 
checked a few bars, had a tenderloin sandwich and a couple of 
beers, and returned to the camper about 10:00.  I listened to 
music for a while -- Golden Oldies -- and then turned in.  

    I must have been sleeping very lightly, because a car pulling 
up outside woke me.  It was about 3:20 in the morning.  Shortly, 
the door opened, and, as I pretended to be asleep, I heard Rachel 
thank somebody for the lift.  I glimpsed her, outlined in the dim 
light from outside; she was still naked.  The guy (who sounded 
like sort of a geek) reminded her of her "promise."  After warning 
him to be quiet, she kneeled down right there and gave him a long, 
sloppy blow job.  

    Afterward, breathing heavily, he thanked her politely and left. 
She just crawled into bed and passed out.  She stank of sweat, 
weed, beer, and cum.

    When I woke up next morning, she was already up and showered, 
sipping coffee.  She looked a little tired still, but otherwise 
quite normal.  I guess I'll never know how many guys she got it 
on with that time, but it could have been three dozen -- or more. 

    I still set up situations for guys to screw her, but I steer 
clear of mass encounters like that festival and now I average only 
3 or 4 men per episode.

    I think she has probably figured out that I'm responsible for 
fixing up these "dates," but she's never once even mentioned any 
of it to me.  She certainly must suspect that I love it...and 
might well be watching her.  And, if I were watching, she knows 
that I'm aware of how much SHE loves it, too.

						-- Match Maker

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

     A truly amazing letter!

     I sat there for a while, letting my temperature and 
respiration gradually return to normal.  It took me a couple of 
moments to realize that I'd been massaging my pussy right through 
my shorts and panties...and that the latter were embarrassingly 
soggy.  The infidelity, the promiscuity, the interracial, 
intergenerational, semi-nonconsensual group sex, the voyeurism 
and exhibitionism...even the hypocritical pretense...I found it 
all powerfully exciting.

    God help me!  Was I a pervert?  

    Well, I guess not, considering what passes for mainstream 
these days....

    I also wondered, like the letter writer, why Rachel wouldn't 
talk about it at all...even to hint.  I'm not sure I could be so 
discreet, under those circumstances.

    But that then got me thinking about Chris and me.  Obviously, 
judging from the quantity of those letters -- and the consistency 
of their theme, this was an important fantasy for Chris.  But did 
he ever want to take it beyond fantasy?  Would he really want to 
turn me into a promiscuous hypocrite slut like Rachel?  Has he 
ever tried to "set up" one of these "occasions" for me -- but it 
fell through, and I was just too oblivious to notice?  

    Well....

    There was that weird Halloween party; then visiting the circus; 
the cruise; the trip to Vegas; the Renaissance Fair....
  
    No, that was just silly, absurd even.  I was becoming 
delusional.  

    And yet....  

    Food for thought.

    In the end, I made sure that the binder and its contents were 
exactly as before.  And I decided just to act as if I'd never seen 
it...to continue being the apparently oblivious housewife....  

    Of course, we had made plans to attend that big convention in 
San Diego in mid-June.  It would be packed with people...with men.  
I wondered if Chris had made any plans he hadn't shared with me.  
And I wondered how good I might be at improvization.

    My hand went back to my pussy.      

     
                      

