"Faithful" Has Another Meaning To This Couple 

Received on 9/9/00 

I remember how the seeds were planted for the "cheating wife" 
fantasy that my wife Angie and I began sharing.  It was a
couple of months before our wedding.  

Up until that time (in our spoken understanding) we agreed that 
we always wanted to be faithful to each other, and that the 
idea of "swinging" was sort of creepy to us.  

But we followed a period of time where we didn't talk about 
that anymore, and I had to admit that a certain image had been 
creeping into my fantasy life that went against the grain of our 
earlier understanding.

Angie has large tits.  I should say enormous!  They're tits to 
die for: gargantuan, pumpkin-shaped boobs with orange brown
nipples, each the size of an oatmeal cookie!  Early on, I had to
get used to the fact that Angie was a traffic stopper.  

When I would walk down the street with her, guys would 
constantly trip over themselves and run into lamp posts.  
And many guys weren't very shy about calling invitations out 
the windows of their cars -- even though they could see she 
was already with a guy.  That made me wonder what it was 
like when I wasn't on the street with her.

Those thoughts are where the fantasy seems to have its roots.

One night, a couple of months before our wedding, as I said,
we were sitting in our favorite bar, listening to the rock band
playing.  Well, even though we were sitting alone at a table,
Angie had guys all over her, asking her to dance (the
tight-fitting, black shirt she was wearing probably didn't
help).  

She deflected all those invitations, of course, but as each 
guy hungrily eyed my finance's cleavage, I just couldn't help
thinking what it would be like to see the two of them in bed
together, fucking each other goofy.

We've always had a very "talkative" fucking relationship, and 
while I had my cock in her that night in bed, I started to
let slip what was on my mind.  At first I was scared that she'd
be angry with me for violating our "understanding," but I had a
pleasant surprise in store.

"Babe, you know all those guys that kept asking you to dance
tonight?"  I said this to the rhythm of long, slow fuck-strokes.
That was followed by a breathy silence, a couple of more
fuck-strokes long.  Then Angie whispered hotly, "Yeah?"

"You know that what I keep thinking about during this fuck?"
I continued the sensual pace all the while our whispered
conversation took place.

"What?"

"I keep imagining that you went up and danced with some of
them."

"Oh, yeah?" There was no disguising her obvious interest in
my fantasy.

"I also keep wondering what it would be like if we were in
the bar together but pretended we didn't know each other.  You
know, and I got to watch you flirt and dance all sexy as hell
with a strange guy and then..."

But Angie was suddenly pumping her groin furiously against
mine, moaning and coming to beat all.  She screamed in a huge
orgasm, and nearly tore a swatch of hair out of my head.  It was
obvious she really dug the direction of the conversation.  It was
a few minutes, however, before I could resume my narrative.

I told her how I wanted to watch her boldly come on to a
strange man, to see her lick his ear, run her hand sensually
down to the lump in his tight slacks.  To watch him feel her ass
hotly, and then run his hand up to her huge knockers while he
french kissed her passionately.  Then I wanted to leave the
bar, all horny as can be from what I saw, in order to beat them
home.

Once in our apartment, I told her, I would hide under the bed 
or in the walk-in dressing room and wait.  I would listen (and 
even peek if I could) as she talked dirty to him and finally 
fucked him.  All the while I would beat-off from my hidden spot.

During my story, Angie had at least four more seismic orgasms. 
It took me nearly an hour to get the whole thing out.  When I 
finished, and she was in the throes of her last and biggest 
cum, I too came, and we rocked passionately until we fell
asleep, exhausted.

As I said, that was shortly before our wedding.  By the time 
we did say our vows, our sex life was completely transformed 
from a sanitized-but-horny one, to a low-down-dirty-perverted 
one.  And we both wordlessly agreed that it was by far for 
the better.

Things went on like that for awhile, and it looked as though
this "cheating wife thing" would merely be our favorite fantasy.  
But as the months went on, our hunger to see the fantasy actually
acted out grew and grew until it seemed as though having Angie
screwing other guys was all either of us would ever talk about.

One night during this time we were in the same bar again,
listening to music (with Angie dressed just as slutty as she
could, complete with killer cleavage).  Angie had her high heel 
up under the table as she was scraping it up and down against my
crotch, all the while looking me in the eye and running the tip
of her tongue slowly along the edge of her full lips.  I was
honestly only a moment away from creaming my jeans right there in
front of everyone.

"You know what?" I croaked hoarsely.

"What?" she purred wickedly.

"If one of these guys asks you to dance tonight, you... you
know... you should, kind of..."

"You mean you think I should dance with him?"  Her eyes were
wide and hungry... and the dirtiest, nervous chortle escaped her
throat.

"Uh, yeah," I fumbled, "all that stuff... you know, all like
we... we..."

"Yeah," she said, shaking her head and giggling even more
wickedly.  "I know what you mean," she whispered.  Suddenly, 
Angie removed her foot with a cool but playful wink.

"Are you thinking that maybe we should split up for a while?" 
I asked in a breathy voice.

"Uh, ye-ah," she said in a strangely coy voice.  "Under the
circumstances, I think that would be a nice idea."

I didn't even hesitate.  I got up like a shot, and headed
for an empty barstool.  In the short time it took for me to sit
down, order my drink, and turn back around, there was already a
guy leaning on his hands on Angie's table, flirting like hell
with her.  

Angie made the tiniest of furtive glances in my direction and 
then gave the guy her complete attention.  As soon as she 
started speaking to him in an animated way, licking her lips 
and batting her eyes (even reaching out and touching his
hand lightly to emphasize something she'd said), I thought I 
would die from arousal.  I had to cross my legs for the 
protruding erection the whole scene was giving me.

He must have asked her to dance, because she nodded her head
in a bright-eyed, sexy way, and mouthed the word "okay."  
Watching them dance to the rhythm of the bouncy rock song was 
nearly impossible.  I had to fight the urge to grab at the 
lump in my pants and start massaging it over and over and over.  

They weren't exactly touching each other, but they were fast 
dancing on a crowded floor very close to each other, and there 
were many, many excuses for them to bump and rub their bodies 
together.

Angie also has this way of dancing "shing-a-ling" style that
makes her huge breasts bob violently up and down, and makes her
cleavage swell in pulses over and over.  I tried to see if my 
wife had given this guy as huge an erection as mine, but the 
other dancers kept me from getting a clear view of his pants.

Then came the slow dance.  I went into shock as I saw Angie
wrap her arms seductively around this guy's neck as she crushed 
her boobs against his chest.  And my heart absolutely stopped 
as I watched my wife incline her head towards his, and with an 
open mouth, point her tongue right at his lips.  His mouth 
opened hungrily to accept her tongue, and before I could say 
"cardiac arrest" they were chewing on each other's necks.

All of a sudden. I realized that Angie kept looking over at
me in a series of quick glances.  When she saw that she had at
least caught my eye, she smiled and made a subtle nod toward the
door with her head, without her new friend seeing it.  I knew 
that was my cue.  And the best was yet to come.

I leaped from the stool, paid my tab, and left the bar in a 
hurry.  Angie had come in our car with me, but somehow I had 
the idea that she'd find her way home in a new, creative way.  

As I drove crazily down the side streets to our apartment 
building, I unzipped my pants and pulled my aching cock out of 
the constraints of my underwear.  I was harder than ever.  I 
didn't jack off to orgasm, but I did give it a few delicious 
tugs that were like water in the desert.  Touching myself had 
never seemed like such an incredible blessing before!

Now, as I pulled up to our building and put myself back into
my pants, I thought of a problem.  Where in the world was I going
to hide in our apartment in order to view the unfolding spectacle
with full enjoyment?  I tossed the idea wildly about on my way up
in the elevator and down the hallway.  It wasn't until I skidded
breathlessly into our bedroom that any kind of logical thoughts
came into my brain.

The first place I tried was under the bed.  I wouldn't be able 
to see, but at least I'd be able to hear, and the squeaking
and thrashing of them screwing right on top of me had a very
exciting appeal.  But as soon as I had crawled down onto the
floor, I realized that this was out -- I couldn't fit under our
bed!  Besides, what if they broke the bed?  A guy could get
crushed.

I entered the walk-in dressing room and considered it for only 
a second.  It was so crowded with shoes and vacuum cleaner parts 
that I couldn't see how I could manage to hide in there and not 
clunk around with a lot of noise.  Then my eyes fell on the
vanity.

In the corner of the room we had arranged Angie's vanity set.  
But instead of putting it against either wall, we made it face 
out into the room from the corner so that the back of it made 
a triangle with the corner.  And that meant that there was a
little triangle of wasted space behind it.  

With great difficulty, I dragged the heavy vanity over the 
carpeting until there was a little gateway to the triangle of 
space behind.  Then I squeezed in there, and with even greater 
difficulty, I pulled the vanity back in place.  

I now had a great little hiding spot.  As I stood upright, I 
was completely hidden by the top of the mirror.  It was the 
perfect vantage point for the bed across the room.  If the 
overhead light were kept off, I'd have a clear shot at a peek 
around the side of the mirror.  And there was just enough room 
in the little triangle of the corner so I could sit down with 
my knees at my chest, and not feel too terribly cramped.

I did just that.  I tried to get cozy and quiet in my new
little hiding spot.  My heart was thudding, and I wondered how
I'd ever be able to breathe silently enough to not be discovered.
And my hard-on ached so badly that after a few struggling
moments, I released it from my tight pants.  But I didn't have
long to wait.

First I heard a whispered giggling outside the door.  Then a
fumbling for the keys through the contents of a purse.  Then I
heard the door unlock and open.  They whispered lewdly to each
other.  I couldn't understand a word.  But it was clear that
they were headed straight for the bedroom.

"Christ," I mouthed silently to myself, "what a wanton 
woman I'm married to!"  I didn't yet know the half of it.

Suddenly they were actually in the bedroom with me.

"God, I want to see that cock out in the light," I heard
Angie say.  Apparently, she'd already had his cock out of 
his pants in the car.

I heard a zipper sound.  Then a giggle, Angie's giggle.  
Then I heard a sound that I never really believed I would 
really hear until that moment.  I couldn't believe my ears 
at first.  What I heard was a fast, sloppy, slurping sound 
-- the sound of my wife sucking another man's cock!  At 
that moment I experienced the most painfully-hard erection 
I'd ever experienced in my entire life!

I heard the springs of our bed squeaking in a regular rhythm.
SQUEAK... SQUEAK-SQUEAK... SQUEAK...  Then I was aware of a 
wet, squishy noise, almost like someone smacking their lips
over and over again, only not exactly.

I managed to get a good grip on my cock, and could stroke it
happily.  And then, in an exalted state of dazedness, I realized 
I was hearing something else.  It was a tiny, squealing soprano
voice chanting the words, "Oh God, oh God, oh, oh, oh, Go-AW-d,
oh God," to the steady beat of the squeaking and squishing.  It
was Angie getting her brains screwed blue not fifteen feet away
from me.

I just had to see it!

With a great amount of difficulty, I first got up to my knees 
and then into a crouched position (nearly knocking the whole 
vanity over because I tripped on my pants, which were down 
around my ankles!).  And then, moving as slowly as a snail on 
sedatives, I began to stand upright.

When I was completely standing, I took a few deep breaths to
compose myself.  The knob of my dick brushed against a protruding
wood screw on the back of the mirror.  I bit my lip in agony.
My hard-on only stiffened its resolve though, and I stroked it
soothingly.  The symphony of squeak-squish-squeal over the bed
was reaching a frenzied rhythm.  I could put off the inevitable 
no longer.

I slowly, oh so slowly, bent at the hip and peered around the 
side of the mirror, my eyes assaulted at once with the vision
of the hugest trunk tree of a cock I had ever seen, pumping in 
and out of my Angie.  The entire shaft was slippery with her 
juice, and was stretching her cunt lips far further than my 
dick ever had!

My wife -- MY WIFE! -- was spreading out on our bed for another 
guy.  And this guy was on top of her and having the time of his 
life.  As I gazed, drooling, and pulling out my cock harder, 
the guy wrapped his arms around Angie's gigantic boobs and 
pressed his face desperately into her cleavage.  He continued 
to fuck her savagely as he painted her tits with his tongue, 
slurping and choking (practically) on the huge nipples.

I knew Angie wouldn't last long with all that attention.  She 
loved to have her tits sucked, and she enjoyed many an orgasm 
solely from attention to her sensitive nips.  I could hear her 
squeals building to a climax, and I pounded my meat ever more 
roughly.

Suddenly, I accidentally shoved my shoulder against the vanity.  
To my horror, I watched (detached, and as if it were in slow 
motion) as the entire vanity, mirror and all, went crashing 
forward onto the floor.  And there I stood in the corner, 
my pants and underwear around my ankles, my dick in my hand 
(stone hard), with my wife and her new friend staring at me 
wide-eyed like deer caught in headlights.

"Uh, hi," I said sheepishly.

The guy looked shocked for a moment.  Then he pulled his dick
all the way out of Angie and said, "What the hell?"  He made a
quick move to get off the bed, and this made Angie suddenly
frantic.

"Wait a minute!" she hissed, grabbing him by the wrist.  He's 
my husband.  Look, look, look!  See?  You're not in danger!  
That's his cock in his hand, not a gun!  He just wants to 
watch!  See?  We were just afraid you'd freak if you knew we
liked to do this!  So now you know, and it's no big deal!  
Right?"

For a moment, the guy just stared at Angie.

"Right?" she continued.  "So just let him have his fun, and
we'll have ours.  Now, come on!  Finish me off!  I'm on the 
edge going out of my mind!"

After Angie's rather impassioned speech, her new male friend 
was silently stunned for a couple more seconds as he nervously
glanced back and forth between us.  His hard-on had only
diminished slightly.  

Suddenly, he kind of smiled, shrugged, and said to me, "Oh 
well, okay, knock yourself out."  And before I knew it, he 
was back on top of Angie, plowing away even more heatedly 
than ever.

In no time, Angie was yodeling away.  It was perhaps her
hugest orgasm I had ever observed her to have.

As for myself, I sat down in a comfortable chair next to the
bed and began pounding my stiff meat with great abandon.  I
thought for sure that the guy was would pull out soft and limp
as soon as Angie calmed down a bit, but the guy hadn't cum at 
the same time Angie had, as I thought.  He wasn't done with my 
wife.  Not by a long shot.

He rose into a kneeling position between her legs.  Angie at
once rose also on one elbow, and reached out to his huge prick.
Then, staying on his knees, he moved up and straddled her waist.

I knew well what was coming next, because I had done the same
thing many times.  You couldn't look at a woman with Angie's
attributes without the image of "titty-fucking" coming right 
into mind.  

Angie seemed completely tuned into his plan.  She grabbed the 
tube of K-Y Gel out of our bedside drawer, flipped open the 
cap and squirted an enormous load of it onto her cleavage.  The
tube had yet to hit the wall after she flung it, when the guy
laid his monster right between her gigantic knockers!  It looked
at first as though she were holding a loaf of French bread to 
her bosom.

At once he started rocking his hips in and out, as Angie pressed 
her mountains of flesh from the sides, covering him.  As his 
huge knob of flesh popped out of her cleavage, Angie bit and
sucked on the slippery thing like a hungry tigress whose life
depended on it.  

That moment was repeated over and over again at a frantic pace 
(while I beat my meat) for a couple of minutes -- and then, the 
biggest, creamiest, whitest load of hot cum sprang from the
guy's monster cock.  It covered my wife's face, tits, and neck.
As she rubbed it into her skin with her left hand, i noticed that 
it got all over her wedding ring.  And, I didn't miss the 
implication as she looked me right in the eye and licked it 
off the ring.

I loved it.

So that was the beautiful start.  We've gotten a little more
refined since those days, of course.  Angie always lets a
prospective lay know ahead of time, for instance, that her
husband would like to be in the same room and watch.  This 
saves an awful of trouble.  

Only three times have guys Angie was coming onto gotten too 
nervous to take her up on this deal.  Usually, we have found 
to our great delight, the men of this world find the prospect 
of fucking Angie so irresistible that my presence in the
room is only a technicality they have to get used to (and it
doesn't take long).

So... if you should ever find yourself in a bar with live
music and you're looking for a little action, and there before
you, tapping her high-heeled shoe to the music is the most
beautiful, sexy, large breasted dish you have ever seen -- 
well, take a second look.  I might be sitting at the bar 
right next to you.  And this could be the luckiest night 
of your life.