"Her First Stray" The phone rang jarring me from the semi-catatonic state of near sleep and deep fantasy I was in.
It was 3:00 a.m. and I knew she had gone out tonight with her girlfriends to a local bar in Detroit near 8 mile. Since we lived apart, I in DC and she in the Michigan 'burbs, I knew she got lonely—especially on the weekends.
Those used to be "our" times—shooting pool, throwing darts, dancing till they threw us out and then off to the car and to whatever dark corner, alleyway, or parking lot we could find to strip off our clothes and grind. My wife, or should I say, my ex-wife, was like that. She liked to drink--loosen up a bit, and let the inhibitions and the "good-girl-guilt-feelings" wash away with the rum and cokes and white Russians. Usually, by the time we got ready to head home, she was horny enough to jump the gear stick.
I got more than one wet-slippery blow-job driving our tipsy asses home. But, I digress, what follows is how things got started, her first "stray", but by the end…well, I'll let you get to the "end"—an end I never thought I'd get to, or want to. "So, are you up?" She was giggly and still buzzing—it was so easy to tell with her. Some people are "sad" drunks, not Kerry, she was the happiest drunk-girl I ever knew.
"Yeah," I mumbled, "especially now." I took a moment to sit up and throw the covers back. I knew this was going to be good, and I knew I'd need the room. "So, did you have a good time?" I tried to sound casual, as if I hadn't been lying there for three hours dreaming of her twirling and twisting on the dance floor with her girlfriends and an ever-changing array of college guys. "Damn straight! I danced all fuckin' night," she said with a certain tired pride in her voice, "and, I'm so nasty, freakin' sweaty—I'm fuckin' drippin' wet." "Everywhere?" I said, with a tone she'd recognize.
"Oooooohh, honey, are you flirtin' with me?" the woman could do a very good little girl. This was a part of the game we'd been playing for the last year. She added, "You know me hubby, I loooovve to dance, and, well, tonight there were sooo many requests; I guess you could say I was the center of attention." Her voice was a sexy sing-song of seduction.
"I bet you were, " I added, she knew I wanted to know more. Her voice dropped an octave, "You know what that little den of iniquity's like; you've been to the Edge on Friday nights!" "Hmmmm, yeah, I haven't forgotten—people getting' shit-faced and then giving face." Sitting there in the darkness, I switched on the lamp beside the bed.
I wanted to see my rock hard cock as I began to "twang" it—holding it down towards my nuts and then letting it fly up till it bounced it's rosy head off my belly. I continued, "Yeah, I know the women there wear next to nothing, too, and they seemingly enjoy dancing with all the fellas--and I mean all!." She laughed and said, "Well, I know I do!" And then added,"it's gotten so popular now that there is hardly any room on the dance floor—sometimes I feel like I'm dancing with three guys all at once!" She was rambling, but there was a low kind of guttural undertone to her words that had the faint glow of memory to them.
"So, what'd you wear?" "Hmm, hmmmm, I know where this is going," she said with a laugh and what I supposed was a wicked smile creasing her soft, pink-glossed lips. "Since I know you're in bed, you probably got "pole problems," huh?" Again, I knew her eyes were getting glossy and her hips would soon be grinding.
Kerry was as predictable as I was—we were both the horniest of Hell's bastard minions. "And, you're wondering if your wife was a good little girl, aren't you? Well, you're the naughty boy!" Just then I could hear her yell out to someone else at the apartment. "Hey Deena, Vin wants to know what I was wearing tonight, should I tell the truth?" Though I couldn't make out the reply, Kerry was laughing when she came back on the line.
"Deena says I should let you wonder—but I told her that would be torture—plus, she doesn't know that you're probably laying there doing a bit of spit-shining, right?" Her voice was a bit deeper with that last question. She repeated it, "Is your dick all big, slick and veiny? I bet it is, and I bet your strokin' it hard, aren't you? You fuckin' little perv!" She moaned a little. I could feel the excitement building. Suddenly our breathing got a little ragged.
I had to say something, so I turned the question on her. "You still haven't told me what you were wearing." "Oh you boys, always wanting to see us in our slutty-best, huh?" "Well, boys will be boys, as they say, and my big boy is very, very curious." "Hmm, well, I guess I should tell you. You know how you're always oogling my ass, right? Well, so was Deena tonight.
We were getting dressed and she kept saying what a cute and tiny little tush I had." Kerry paused to take what sounded like a swig of sometthing…probably a glass brimming with Chablis, or, if the mood struck her, a strong, brown beer that would kick her ass all the way to Friday. "Yah, go on." I said, as I reversed my grip, thumb down, and pulled my stiffie up so that the precum oozed like oil from my pee-slit.
I was drenched in sweat now and my cock was throbbing, straining to thrust, push, pummel and explode.
It would take only a little more before I was ready to tattoo my chest with long white ropes of pearly jam. "Well, Deena said she had just the thing to make the boys' tools drool—itn't that cool, 'tool drool,' that's just the way put it! Anyway, she pulls out these white short-shorts, and I'm talking short!" "How short?" I added, starting to visualize my thin little brunette wife in these nasty white shorts. "Well, they were cut very high—almost right up the crack of my ass, but they were also low-rise and so they dipped way down in the front.
I swear, If my cunny wasn't bald, I'm sure I would've been showing some serious wisp." "I think we'll have to get you a pair of your own!" The image in my head was intoxicating and I drank deeply of it. Drunk on her, I knew she was one fuckin' in a million! The shit-best broad god ever made. "Oh, I didn't tell you the best thing," she said, in a barely a whisper, "they were also a little flared," "Flared?" I sat up straighter, imagining the possibilities.
"Yeah, you know, so that there is a little flare between the hem and curve of my ass." "Really?" "Yeah, they made me feel like such a slut." "Why?" I sat back and tried to keep from blowing my load all over the ceiling. "Because when I was dancing with the guys, I could basically grind my pussy all over their legs." She was really enjoying this now. "So, you weren't wearing any knickers, were you?" "Honey, not in those…a thong would've been bigger!" I began to get a good visual of my lithe little wife in these thin, white shorts, the hem flared out just enough to enable anyone at the club to get a good look at her toned little ass.
She continued, "But," she paused for a second, "you like that word, don't you, butt, ass, bum, and you know I've got a good one, don't you, and you like it when the guys run their hands all over my creamy little ass, don't you?!" I was beginning to get the idea that Kerry was going to take our teasing to a new level. "Did a lot of guys do that?" I asked, suddenly aware that she might have done more than just flounce and flirt.
"Hmmmm, maybe." She paused for a second and then in rapid fire added, "You know, those guys were suffeing honey, and it was practically unavoidable sometimes I couldn't even see who had their hands on me.
I'd say I had a lot of different hands caressing my ass. One guy even ran his fingers into my front." She rattled on, trying, I think to get it all out. But, the last comment brought me up short. "Your pussy?" I asked, groaning in anticipation. This would be a first for Kerry.
"Yeah, and I was sooo freakin' horny after that. See, what you've created." She laughed loudly and I could tell she was in a very raunchy mood.
"So, are you and Deena alone?" I asked. Somewhere deep inside my brain I knew some line had been crossed. Something was different. "Well, funny you should ask." She seemed to be measuring her words. "Deena is here with Mark.
They met at the bar tonight and she didn' want to say goodbye—he's really cute, kind of afro-asian, I think. Anyway, since she came with me, we ended up here at our place. You don't mind, do you? Deena said she needed a night-cap, and I couldn't turn her down, right?
I wouldn't be a good hostess, would I?" She was enjoying this immensely—stringing me out, letting me get the full feel of her escapade, while all the while, she maintained the slightest veneer of decorum and respectability. "Buuutt," she paused for second, then continued, "honey, we still feel like partyin' and, so…" She drifted off, baiting me to finish it for her.
"Well…" I enjoyed the dangle, too—two could play this game! "Well, it ain't a party if I'm alone, is it?" She said in her softest sing-song, sultry voice. "I guess not. I mean, having good company is always a very good thing, right?" I added as I cupped and pulled my balls. I was so close now that I didn't dare even touch my dick. It was like some super-stretched piano wire, one small caress on that fleshy key and it would sing to the rafters.
"So, who ya gonna call?" I asked as I cradled the phone between my ear and shoulder, not touching my dick as I let it thrum and vibrate to her voice. She didn't answer for second or two, but then, quietly, as if arising from a great depth, she said, "You know, I can feel you. Right now, in this very instance, in me. I can. I can feel the head of your cock slowly pushing into me; I can feel the thick, sweet, spongy softness of your big prick as it cuts me half.
God, god, god, I love fucking." There a long pause, and then she quietly asked, "Who are we now?" Her voice sounded far away, as if she understood the distance we had traveled. She continued to moan a little. I had the feeling her fingers, too, were dancing in the dark crevices of her latent desires. She, then, without much hesitation, asked, "So, that's a yes, right? I can have a little fun, too?" Now it was my time to be quiet. I knew this was the boundary, the Rubicon we had never gone beyond, and here it was, right in front of both of us.
The great river, the great divide. What could I say, how could I deny her now?
I had dabbled in this dream, drenched myself and her in this sweet, delectable depravity, and now we stood here on the bank—both of us thinking of crossing, but not knowing what lay on the other side. I trusted her absolutely, and without a doubt in the fiber of my soul I knew she loved me. My whole wicked heart was hers, and it always would be, but, here it was, now was the time.
Would I say "yes" to this fantasy—to pleasure for pleasure's sake when I knew that now it would stop being just a fantasy?
My voice was soft, and I tried my best to say what I really felt. I sat up, I wanted her to hear me clearly, "Sweetness and light, love of my life, I do not wish, ever, to deny you any of the pleasures of this carnal world, be they small or great, righteous or wicked, I do not know. All I care about is you." There was a quietness on the line, a pause that signaled that she understood. But, as she was often wont to do, rightfully, and especially at some moment when the nexus of an inexplicable profundity hung in the balance, she broke that mood with a frivolous and flippant comment that made my wilting dick throb anew… "Yeah, right, pervy, only when you blindfold me and stick your fat cock in my mouth and tell me it's someone else's." I chortled, and I knew my eyes were dancing in love and desire.
She was right, of course, I was always playing games with her—maybe it was her turn to play one with me. Just about then I heard some commotion in the room—some loud talking and good ol' boy hootin' and hollering and something about a mighty fine piece of ass.
"So who's that?" I asked Kerry. "The two guys I was gonna call." Her voice sounded distant. I think she had lost focus on us, and I imagined that she had now focused her lustful attention on the three young studs who had just walked in.
"I guess I jumped the gun a bit, didn't I?" She didn't sound very sorry though. "Yep, sounds to me like my wicked wife had it planned all along.
So, how far are you going this time?" I asked her. "Hmmmmm, I don't know. However far it takes, I guess. Honey. I need dick. You know how I love cock. I need someone to rub a dick on my face, and though your prick is so big and beautiful—it's also so far away. You won't mind if I indulge a little and suck some dicks tonight, will you" "Ohhh, now it's some dicks, huh?" I said as I felt my nuts tighten.
"Would it matter?" she said, "I mean, really, if it's one, it might as well be more than one, right?" "Is my wife gonna be slut tonight?" "I've always been a slut for you---now I'm gonna be everyone's slut." At that point I heard a long drawn-out moan. "What is it?" "Jezus H.
Christ!" was all she said. My imagination now went into full tilt, and I could her hear her whisper, "That's a mutha-fuckin' dick!" I was imagining my trampy brown-eyed little wife sticking her hand down her white shorts and sliding a thin middle digit into her slick slot all the while oogling some stud's cock. "Honey, I gotta go." She said with some urgency. "Why?" "Brad and Tom are getting me naked." "What?" "Mmmhmm, yeah!
Brad is rubbing my ass with his big black hands, and Tom just pulled out the biggest white cock I've ever seen—he's a fuckin' horse! Jeezuz, he's even bigger than you!" "Are you naked now?" "Almost. Brad's got his tongue sucking all over my soft titties, and Tom has that fuckin' black banana sliding up the crack of my ass inside my panties!
Gawd, I need to feel it in me. Promise you won't hate me, okay? Promise?" "I love you Kerry," I said and meant it.
"Now, bend over, but keep the phone next to you." This wasn't my wife's voice. It was quiet for a few moments but I could hear movement on the other end of the line. Then there was the sound of someone picking up the receiver. "Oh gawd, yes, he's got his black dick sitting right between my pussy lips.
Honey, he's rubbing in my wet little groove. It's driving me fucking crazy; tell him to put it in--all the way in." She must've held up the phone to Brad, and though I couldn't see him, I know he heard me say, "Shove your fat black cock into my wife's cunt." Then, all I heard was a grunt and a groan of absolute pleasure. I knew Kerry had taken his whole meat right to the hilt. I was sitting there in my bed with my hand working the slippery shaft of my own dick while listening to the ass-slapping pump-fest Kerry was getting.
Of course, knowing her, she was giving as well as she got. I could hear the slap of naked flesh and the rhythmic moan of someone getting royally screwed—it was my beautiful wife who was now, for the first time, going to get fucked for real rather than just in my mind.
My hand was blistering my dick—I wanted to cum with her. I could hear her crying and groaning, "Ugh, ugh, ugh, fuck, ugh, harder, fuck me harder Brad. Fuck my slutty pussy." She was screaming now,"This is what he wants! Fuck me! Fuck me!" I could imagine the thrashing she was giving him. I had been in that saddle many times, and it was s ride no guy would forget.
Kerry became a dervish of desire when she was on the edge of cumming. "Mmmm, that feels so good Tom, that's right slap my pretty face with your horse cock. You know I like it. I love 'em big---big boners that you can slurp on and then cram in your cunt." Her voice was crystal clear. She must've been not two inches from the receiver.
Just then I heard her gurgle. She had his cock in her mouth—plunging it into her cavernous throat. She could deep-throat mine, could she do him? Mr. Horse Cock? Just then, there was a long slurrrrp. It sounded like she was juicing him up real good. I could barely hold out. My cock was right on the verge of spurting it's slimy seed all over my chest. I hadn't cum in three days, so I knew it'd be a good load. As I was about to cum, I heard her voice.
"Honey, don't' say anything.
I know you can hear this, but I wish you could see it. I'm so fuckin' turned on. This is what I want; I need to fuck. You knew it all along—even better than I did. I've always loved cock—especially your cock, but now, I think I love all cocks; I just went balls deep on the most beautiful piece of vanilla man-meat." She was quiet for a second, and then, "His head is like a ripe, fat plum that I wanna lick all night.
You don't mind do you, if I suck these boys—these college boys—all night long and let them find snug little homes for their hard logs, do you? My cunt is on fire—I need all their juices to put it out—I'll call you tomorrow with the details. I love you so much." Click.
December 31, 2005