“So why did you come, if not to see me and my friends, Jenny, babe?” I overheard him say.
“But my husband’s here with me,” Jenny protested. “I can’t let him see us together.”
“That wimp!” Thomas croaked. “I can take care of him.”
“Do that,” Jenny warned, “and you’ll never see me again. Got it, sweetheart?”
“Sure, babe. Anything you say. But what are you doing here if you didn’t come to see ol’ Henry and company?”
“I don’t really know right now, okay?”
“Sure, but we’ll only wait a little while for you to make up your mind.”
With that, Thomas and his friends left the booth. I waited a couple of minutes before rejoining Jenny, who had composed herself by then. As we sipped our drinks and talked, I noticed that she kept glancing at the bar, where Thomas sat with his friends. After a few drinks, Jenny loosened up and began to laugh and giggle. We danced a few dances, during which she sort of dry-humped me. I was really beginning to get aroused by this, but then the club manager announced that the amateur-night competition was about to begin. This evening, he explained, it would be a striptease contest, and he proceeded to pick women from the audience. A few, with encouragement from their mates, accepted the challenge. When he asked Jenny to perform, my heart skipped a beat. Although she could dance like a pro, I was surprised when she coyly accepted the offer.
The manager and five contestants went backstage and, a few minutes later, the competition began. I awaited Jenny’s turn nervously. She was last to perform (the first four contestants were average at best). Dancing to Ravel’s “Boléro,” she was in fine form, twirling her skirt so that, every now and then, you could see her perfectly formed thighs and a flash of her panties. As the tempo of the music increased, it really got Jenny going. She reached back and slowly unzipped her dress. With a sensuous shrug of her shoulders, the dress slid to the floor—and my wife was standing there in only a matching bra-and-panties set I had given her. The bra was barely large enough to enclose her full breasts. You could tell how excited she was from the size and hardness of her nipples, plainly visible through the filmy silk. Her tiny panties were also of silk, with lace inserts.
Jenny continued to prance about the small stage and then climbed on the bar. Still swaying to the music, she now began to give a show to those seated at her feet, including Thomas. Some guys reached out to caress her long legs, and several began waving money at her.
Jenny danced over to one and stooped so he could insert a bill in the waistband of her panties. This really got the crowd going (none of the other dancers had been so bold). Encouraged by the crowd’s applause and shouts of approval, Jenny moved close to Thomas, who obviously was enjoying the show in a big way. Jenny smiled and began to dance especially for him.
Thomas took a bill from his wallet and waved it at her. She squatted to allow him to put the bill in her waistband. As the crowd chanted “Lower! Lower!” Thomas reached out and hooked a finger under Jenny’s waistband. Instead of inserting any money, he proceeded to pull down her panties until her whole cunt was showing. Jenny’s eyes were closed as she continued swaying her hips, apparently unconcerned that her pussy was in full view. Thomas then cupped my wife’s red muff in his hand. I watched as he inserted a finger into her cleft. The crowd was screaming now as my wife rotated on Thomas’s finger. After a few moments, she raised herself slightly and hesitated as he stuffed his money between her cunt lips.
The rest of the act was anticlimactic. Needless to say, Jenny won the competition hands down (or, you could say, pants down). Flushed and clutching her dress to her chest, she rushed back to our booth, followed by loud cheers. The luster in her eyes told me how much she had enjoyed her show.
She asked to go out to the van to straighten herself up, and I told her to go ahead. I glanced over to where Thomas was sitting and did not see him. After a few minutes’ wait, I went out to the van. The parking lot was dimly lit, but that didn’t prevent me from seeing Jenny and Thomas in a deep embrace. They were standing behind the van, and both of its back doors were open. I watched as he raised Jenny’s dress over her head. With his big paws, he began to grab and squeeze my wife’s tits and pussy through her bra and panties.
“I knew you were one hot honey,” he told her. “Your pussy is really dripping, and now you’re gonna get it good!”
I saw him stuff his whole hand down into her panties. Jenny leaned against the van as Thomas continued to feel her up. He started to finger-fuck her, causing her to shake and buck. Thomas’s two friends then came around the van. One, a tall, skinny guy, reached out and squeezed Jenny’s melons.
“You were right about this here bitch. She sure is fine,” he said as he fondled my Jenny and put his hand down her panties. Tom’s was already there, and two hands proved too much for the delicate fabric to contain. It ripped apart and I could see both black hands massaging Jenny’s pussy.
“Mama, I bet you want to taste some of my long cock, don’t you?” the tall, skinny man said as he snaked his tongue down her neck and shoulders to lick Jenny’s nipples through her bra.
Thomas removed his hand from her crotch, gently pushed Jenny into the back of the van and climbed in with his two friends. I went over and peered through the side window as Thomas was removing the remnants of Jenny’s clothes. He positioned himself between her raised knees and drove his huge cock into her gaping cunt. Jenny’s body was lifted off the van’s soft carpeting from the impact of Thomas’s driving monster. Meanwhile, the tall, skinny guy went over to Jenny’s head. His is one of the longest, slenderest cocks I have ever seen, and he inserted it in her waiting mouth. She devoured this new intruder as it slid back and forth between her lips.
The third black man was grossly fat. When he tired of waiting on the sidelines, he pushed the skinny fellow away and dropped to his knees beside Jenny’s head, unzipping his huge trousers as he did so. A large, fat cock popped into view below his great gut. I watched as he draped his limp member across my wife’s lips. Automatically she opened her mouth and sucked it in. I stared as it started to grow and harden. Jenny opened her mouth wider than I thought possible to keep the fat black sausage in her mouth, sucking it passionately.
The skinny man squatted over my wife’s chest, placing his cock in the valley of her cleavage. Using both hands to mash his meat between her fleshy mounds, he received the tit-fucking of his life.
Jenny was totally abandoned to her lust. She was bucking, squealing, writhing, grunting and groaning uncontrollably from the incredible pleasure of her threeway with these men. Thomas’s huge cock continued to piston in her cunt, its blackness contrasting starkly with Jenny’s creamy white skin.
About this time I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned to find a policeman aiming his flashlight in my face. I kept silent as he ordered me to leave the parking lot immediately. Not wanting to compromise myself, I simply walked away. When I turned for one last look, I saw the policeman entering the rear of the van!
Unsure of my emotions and needing time to think, I caught a cab and went directly home. I knocked and our son’s baby-sitter opened the door. Karen, a college freshman, who baby-sat to help finance her education, asked how the evening went and where Jenny was. I told her that Jenny was visiting friends and that I didn’t care when she came home. Karen sensed that something was wrong. She sat down with me to talk. I had always liked her and felt that she liked me. We always talked about what she was going to do after college. Sitting with her on the couch now, I asked if I could get her something to drink. When she said yes, I went and got us each a cold beer.
As we talked, I began to appreciate Karen’s charms. She was wearing a flowery summer dress, and I could make out the faint scent of her perfume. Our conversation became more and more open. Every once in a while she would touch me on my knee as if to make a point. I continued to admire her lithe form. Karen had occasionally swum in our pool, so I knew she had a lovely body. I especially liked her long, slim l
egs, which were tanned to golden brown. She seemed so innocent—yet so sexy.
Karen finally placed her hand on my knee and didn’t remove it. I gazed into her eyes as she talked on about her projected nursing career—only to fall silent and smile a meaningful smile. A tacit understanding arose between us. I took her hand in mine and kissed the tips of her fingers.
I took her in my arms as she raised her lips to mine. Karen whispered of how she had always wanted to make love to me. I could only smile and hold her closer as she told me of her longing for me and how much she’d envied Jenny. My arms wandered over her back as we kissed. Soon Karen’s hand began to explore the growing bulge in my trousers. I unbuttoned her dress and Karen stood up to let it fall off. My excitement grew as I stared at her body, which was now in white panties and bra. Karen returned to my arms and our lips touched again. I felt her nipples grow rigid as she rubbed them against my chest. I began to massage her cunt right there in the living room. It wasn’t long before we were both naked and she was lying expectantly on the couch. I positioned myself above her and poked my engorged member deep into her, causing her to grunt loudly. I began pounding into her, and she began bucking in a frenzy of lustful desire. Planting her feet on the couch for support, she lifted her pelvis to match me, thrust for thrust. Her ass was at least a foot above the couch.
When I couldn’t hold back any longer, I came inside her with a loud grunt. After another moment, she came wildly. We rested awhile with my soft cock still in her, then I slowly withdrew it. Karen kissed me on the cheek, got up, dressed and left without another word—as if nothing had happened. I went upstairs and fell into a deep, if not contented, sleep.
BALLING ALI
I was a virgin when I married at eighteen, and so was my husband. After twenty-two years as a wife and mother I had settled into a comfortable, if unexciting, rut. I am an outgoing woman and have been told I am attractive, but as far as anything wild happening—well, it seemed that sort of thing was for other people, but not for me. I knew that I had many hidden fantasies, although there was no hope of my husband unlocking these desires. He is a very nice man, but “passion” is not his middle name, if you know what I mean. His idea of being naughty consists of thumbing through the Sports Illustrated swim-suit issue when he thinks I’m not looking. When we’re in bed (and that’s the only place he’ll do it—in bed) he likes to get his rocks off without much foreplay or fuss, and then quickly floats off to sleep.
One of my favorite pastimes is bowling. My husband doesn’t care for the sport, so we never bowl together. But he had no objection to me joining a league on my own, which I did a couple of years ago. I was a little nervous, as I don’t usually go out by myself, but everyone in the league seemed friendly. Plus, it was fun bowling once a week, and fun, too, looking at the men, some of whom were quite handsome.
The first week of bowling, I didn’t flirt the way some of the other women did, but concentrated mainly on getting my average up and silently admiring the attractive guys from afar. But the second week of bowling, a good-looking, younger man with short, dark hair caught my eye. Although we didn’t talk that night, I found out that his name was Dean and that, like me, he was married.
By the third week everyone was a bit closer, and our team bowled on the lanes next to Dean’s team. By now there was a lot of flirting going on, mostly by the men, but it was the same old crap—a lot of desperate double entendres about “picking up a split” and aiming for “the middle pin.” Some of these guys were so hard-up I felt sorry for them, but what can you do?
That night, after the matches were over, I joined a lot of the other bowlers for drinks in the alley bar. It was good to be away from my home and family and let loose for a couple of hours. Dean was there, and after a while—and several strong drinks—I got up my courage and went over to talk with him. “I’m Ali,” I said, not sure if he knew my name.
“Yes, I know,” he said. “You’re famous. A lot of the guys in the league call you ‘Bowling Ali.’” I cringed at that, afraid that I was in for another round of bad jokes from another married man who just wanted to get laid. But I was happy to find that Dean was actually very funny and not at all like the other men. Yes, he was also a bit of a flirt, but at least his jokes weren’t as stupid as some of the others. We talked for a long time after everyone else left, and I felt something I hadn’t felt in years: sexy! Dean and I had much in common, and I loved his brown eyes and youthful looks. But it was getting toward midnight and I worried what my husband would say if I stayed out too late. As I was leaving, Dean gave me a kiss that just about knocked my socks off. I lay awake for hours that night, wondering what it would be like to have sex with him. When I finally did fall asleep, I had the most erotic dream.
In it, Dean and I were in my house, naked and fooling around on the living-room couch. He was talking to me in a way no man ever had, telling me how hard his cock was and how much he wanted to stick it inside my hot, hungry pussy. He made his point by pressing both thumbs into my cunt, working them in and out of the dripping hole one at a time, like a set of pistons. I was crying out, begging him to go faster, and he did. When I climaxed in the dream, my body seemed to rise up off the couch.
When I floated down again, Dean was on top of me, fucking me with strong, feverish thrusts. Each time his cock slammed all the way inside me I lifted my hips to meet him halfway. He was grunting and gasping and saying, over and over again, “I’m fucking you. Fucking you hard. Fucking you the way you want to be fucked.”
At this point in the dream, my husband walked into the room. He didn’t say a word and neither did I. In fact, instead of being embarrassed I looked at him and said, “Watch me. Watch me get fucked.” I took Dean’s cock from every position imaginable as my husband stood by calmly and watched. It felt good to have him see me being so thoroughly pleased by another man. My legs were high above Dean’s shoulders, my feet pressing against the sides of his face. I rubbed his cheeks with the soles, telling him to sink his cock into me as hard and fast as he could.
The dream was most intense when Dean was screwing me from behind. He didn’t ram his prick in and out of me when we were in this position, but ground it into me very slowly. I could feel every thick, throbbing inch of his meat as he pulled out, then sank back in again. I begged him to fuck me faster, to shoot me full of come, but he continued to fuck me with exquisite slowness. Finally, it was I who came, my body shuddering and practically exploding with an orgasm so powerful, so real, that it woke me from my sleep. Two fingers were buried deep inside my cunt, and a third was pressed tightly against my clit. My legs were soaked, the juices from my pussy pooled on the sheet beneath me.
The next day I was shocked to receive a lovely bouquet of flowers at work. Everyone thought they were from my husband, but when I read the card I realized that Dean had sent them. For the rest of the eight weeks of leagues, we snuck off to a quiet bar or diner after bowling and talked. We were dying to go to bed together, but I was too uptight about cheating on my husband. But when I read about an out-of-town couples’ tournament, I decided to take the plunge and asked Dean to be my partner.
It was tricky, because we didn’t want our spouses to know what we were up to, but it was also fun planning it—we were like a couple of kids sneaking off to fool around someplace their parents wouldn’t find them. We arrived at our hotel in separate cars and checked into separate rooms. Until I met Dean I’d never considered making love to another man besides my husband. But when Dean walked into my room, all I could think of was getting into bed with him.
I was wearing a short terry robe over my panties and was feeling hot and horny. As soon as Dean closed the door behind him I pulled him to the bed and tore off his clothes. I was on fire, tingling from head to toe, and took his hard cock into my mouth. The taste of his pre-come on my tongue made my head spin. I sucked his balls and licked his long shaft. I was surprised at how different his cock was from my husband’s in taste, look and feel. These differences were, in themselve
s, very exciting for me, and made me work at Dean’s prick with every ounce of imagination and energy I had.
I pumped his cock fast while tonguing the soft head and rolling my palm against his balls. He warned me that he was going to come. I pulled away at first, uneasy about taking another man’s semen in my mouth. But as he began to shoot his load I could not control myself any longer. I locked my mouth back down around the hard thickness of his dick and swallowed as five or six thick jets of come exploded onto my tongue. Then I rubbed some of the warm come on my lips, savoring the taste and sticky texture.
Dean pulled me to him in a passionate kiss. I anxiously sucked his tongue as he played with my nipples. He pulled on them with his fingers, making them grow hard as diamonds. He ran a hand up my smooth thigh and fondled my pussy for a moment before moving up to my tummy. He rubbed the hot flesh and played with my navel, poking his fingertip into the little hole and even giving it a few licks with the tip of his tongue. Then he slowly slid his fingers back inside my panties. As he reached my clit, I opened my legs wide to give him access to my cunt. I pulled his mouth to my breasts, which were dying for attention. He sucked my tits while finger-fucking me, driving me crazy with lust.
Soon Dean knelt over me and lowered his tongue to my pussy. He kissed my neatly trimmed pubes and licked the swollen lips, prying them apart with his fingers and stroking them lovingly with his skilled tongue. Then he went to work on my clitoris, flicking his fantastic tongue back and forth against it so briskly it felt as though I had a vibrator pressed up against the bud.
I could stand it no longer. I pulled him to his feet and covered his smooth chest with kisses. I remembered the dream I’d had about him and how, in it, I’d told him exactly what I wanted him to do to me. I was overcome with the desire to talk as candidly with him now, and so I began to whisper in his ear. “I want to feel your cock inside me,” I said hotly. “Put it in me. Put it in my pussy.” Dean grabbed hold of his cock and rubbed it up and down and side-to-side against my pussy lips. I opened my legs in anticipation of what I knew would be powerful thrusts. Slowly, he pushed the head inside. I gasped as it stretched the walls of my cunt. Lifting my legs high in the air, I reached around to grab his ass and draw him deeper inside me.
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