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A Cautionary Tale

By: Mortice



The bitch! I knew something was very amiss with our marriage for a long time, so when she told me she was seeing another man, it was no great surprise. 

I can imagine her, lying in bed with her new man, telling stories of our failed marriage and laughing. Laughing at me, of course. 

And no doubt one of the thing they'd be laughing at would be my bondage interests. She was interested when I first told her my fantasies of being tied up and helpless. She tried tying me to the bed and getting on top. She even made a game of hiding the keys to my chastity belt, and teasing me about it until we got to bed. 

But it became clear that she was never really into it. What started out as fun became a chore, and she gave up. 

This is probably just the story she's telling her new guy now, except she'd probably insert a few extra words, like 'pathetic' and 'stupid'. 

After I'd come to realise she wasn't into the bondage game, I had started doing it 'solo'. She didn't mind, as long as it didn't involved her doing anything. 

I got a time lock safe, and at the beginning of each month I would set the timer for about a week, lock my chastity belt on, and then lock the keys into the safe. I would then spend the week feeling secured and helpless, and would enjoy becoming free after a week. Sometimes that enjoyment would be with the assistance of my wife, but usually not. 

--------------------------------------

Some time a few weeks after she had left me, I found that she had used her key to come back into the house. She had taken her half of our CD collection, and left my half in a metal bucket which was also full of burning paper. The stench of burning plastic filled the house. 

It was the end of the month, and I knew she would try some nasty trick to give me problems with my chastity belt when I put it on in a few days, so I checked out the equipment carefully. 

Sure enough, she had changed the time delay on the safe, so if I had locked it without checking, it would have stayed locked for a year. 

I checked over the belt and lock, and found that she had filled the lock's keyhole with glue. Anticipating a problem, I had already bought a replacement lock, but since the lock she ruined was locked at the time, she must have known it wouldn't catch me out. 

All else was clear, so I slipped on the belt, locked it up, and put the keys into the safe. 

---------------------------------------------

Ping! 

The sound I had been waiting for all week - it indicated that the time delay had expired and the safe could now be opened. 

As I got up to go over to the safe, the phone rang. I cursed the bad timing, but answered it anyway. 

The voice said, "Hello, small-fry." It was my estranged wife. 

"What do you want?" 

"I've just called to see if you are enjoying your usual time in your chastity belt." 

"Yes I am, and don't worry, I found all your booby traps." 

"Did you? Did you find them all?" 

For a moment, I worried, but I remembered checking all components for signs of tampering. "Yes, I'm quite sure. In fact, the safe has already opened." 

"Well, that's okay, you must be okay then, mustn't you." 

I went over to the safe and took the keys out. Meanwhile she continued to talk. "On a completely different note, have you ever heard of epoxy adhesives? They come as two parts which are each harmless, but when they're mixed together they form a very solid bond." 

Her talk of glues was worrying me, so I quickly put the key into the lock. It turned and the lock popped open just as it always did. I said, "I don't know what you think you've done, but my chastity belt lock is operating just fine." 

She continued, "I'm sure the lock is fine. However, when you were examining the belt, did you notice a very thin layer of clear fluid on the parts of the waist band that overlap? The parts that are squeezed together by the lock locking post?" 

I pulled the lock off the belt; it came off fine. I then tried to pull apart the two halves of the belt, but they wouldn't come apart! 

I vaguely heard her carry on, "All the time you've been wearing the belt, those two layers of otherwise harmless fluid have been pressed together, mixing up, and forming a rock hard bond between the two halves of the waist belt." 

It was stuck solid. I shouted, "You bitch! What have you done to it?" 

She just giggled. "There is a solvent available - of course, you have to know what sort of epoxy it is to get the right solvent." 

I tried to say, "What? How? Where do I get it?" but the line had gone dead.

A Cautionary Tale



 I thank my LadyCibelle and Techsan for their patience, proof reading, editing skills and of course encouragement they always give me. As I've been known to fiddle with stories, after they've seen it. I take full responsibility for the content and any cock-ups in this story. 

While I'm at it I think I'd better thank all my friends out there, who write to me and encourage me to continue writing and posting these demented ravings of mine. Your emails are greatly appreciated.

This is not a stroke story, so if you were looking for one of those kind-of tales, I would suggest you'd bet better served looking elsewhere.

Author's notes: - Winkle = Edible marine gastropod mollusc the meat of which is extracted from the shell with a little difficulty using a small pointed instrument (needle or pin). Hence, winkle out = extract information etc. I winkled the information out of him/her. - In flagrante delicto (Latin) = in the very act of committing an offence.

All right, this one has been done before, but I'm in the mood for rehashes lately. I might well have bitten off more than I can chew here, so this could well be a little difficult to read, but I had some fun writing it. I'll just ask the reader to be careful about what you are actually reading though. If things start not to make sense, think very carefully about what's going on. I'm pretty sure that you've all been there sometime in your life. 

*

It really wasn't an easy scene for me to watch, so I didn't stand there for very long. Slowly and with a sick feeling in my stomach, I turned back into the crowd of revellers and began to make my way out of the club.

You know it wasn't as if I was just angry, there was a terrible feeling of disappointment I felt as well. I'd just seen the two people who I thought were my closest and most trusted friends standing on the dance floor kissing and cuddling each other. One, the woman I loved and I'd thought I was about to become my wife. The other, my oldest friend and confidant, the guy I was just about to set up a business partnership with. You know you really have to trust someone if you're going into business with them, the same kind of trust you need to have in a woman when you decide to ask her to marry you.

Damn it, it looked like I'm just fucking useless when it came to picking the people I put my trust in. Both of these two had let me down, just like the first woman I'd asked to marry me had.

How come I'd discovered them in that clinch on the dance floor? Well, you see, in theory I shouldn't have even been anywhere near there. It was the old story of the guy coming home unexpectedly a day early and catching the mouse.... No, hang on there, the fox and the mouse at play.

Frankie and I were just about to set up as agents in the UK for a Korean company, which was planning on moving into Europe in a big way. I'd been on a visit to Holland to meet up with the Koreans and a few of the guys who were hoping to be agents for them in some of the other EU countries. Well, things had gone pretty well and, I'm going to be honest, the whole damn thing kind of turned into one big party. I'd got on very well with a couple of French guys and a Spaniard; we'd kind-a tied one on a bit.

I'm not sure how the subject had come up, but during the afternoon I'd mentioned that I'd had to cancel my engagement party to make it to the conference. Now I'm pretty sure that if Jose had been sober he'd wouldn't have suggested the idea, and if I'd been sober I'd have turned him down flat anyway. But I had vague memories of four rather drunken guy's climbing into that little Cessna so that Jose could fly us all home. Looking back, I'm surprised that no one at the airfield had realised just how pissed we all were, and didn't stop us from flying.

As it was I had jumbled recollections that we were crossing the North Sea. I believe I did get a little worried; I'm not sure if it was Jose's condition that worried me, or if it was the fact that my bottle of Scotch was empty. Anyway we made it to our town's local amateur airfield. Jose, Jacques and the other guy refused my offer to stop over and promptly took off again, disappearing in the general direction of Wales.

I'd think I called Lydia's mother, who told me that she'd gone out with her girl friends for the evening. Now as there were only three places with any nightlife in town, I'd found her at my second stop. Damned if I can remember how I got there though. The trouble was that when I did, I'd bloody found her making whoopee on the dance floor with my prospective partner.

One thing I couldn't get my head around was that Frank, the guy I'd just seen holding my intended bride in his arms, had been the one who had tried to tell me not to marry my first wife Fiona. When I'd told him we were getting married, he'd gone all quiet on me for a while and it had taken me sometime to winkle out of him that he thought I was making a big mistake. But I couldn't persuade him to enlarge.

That conversation was to cause a rift between us that lasted a lot longer than the marriage to Fiona did.

My marriage that I thought had started out very well - hey, we had a brand new house and Fiona fell pregnant within four months - lasted exactly two years from church to divorce court. It turned out that Fiona was one of those women who couldn't keep her legs crossed. Whether Frank knew or he just didn't trust her, I never did find out. When we became friends again, neither of us ever brought the subject of Fiona up again.

Okay, so you're all itching to find out how I discovered that Fiona was - well, to put it bluntly, a slut. I must tell you that it has very little bearing on this story, other than to give you an insight into my state of mind. Which is very important!

To tell you the truth, I didn't discover that Fiona was a slut who was cheating on me. The credit for that discovery has do go to our next-door neighbour Bridget. I came home from work one evening and as I turned into the street where my house was, a police car passed me. I watched the thing, as it tore down our suburban street at breakneck speed and came to a stop beside a crowd of people who were standing on the pavement outside my house. 

When I arrived on the scene, one officer was restraining Bridget, whilst in the middle of my front lawn, another officer was attempting to tend to the injuries of a rather excited and somewhat dishevelled Fiona. Unfortunately Fiona was making a very good job of fighting off his ministrations. It didn't take very long for the extremely verbal Bridget to inform me that Fiona and Bridget's husband had been playing a cosy game of house together.

The occupants of the second police car to arrive were pretty quick in discovering the comatose body of Bridget's husband. He was found lying in my rear garden, stark naked and with a lump the size of a cricket-ball on his head, where apparently Bridget had hit him with a rolling pin.

A side point that has nothing to do with this story at all: Fellas, if your missis is Irish or even has a drop of the Gaelic in her blood, don't go fucking around on her behind her back! Damn, those Irish girls can have some bloody temper on them.

Anyway back to the story. It soon became apparent that Bridget had sneaked into the back door of my house, where she had discovered her husband and Fiona in flagrante delecte, no, flagrente dilicto. Oh, bugger, you know where we're going here; they were fucking like a pair of bunny rabbits from Bridget's description. 

Anyway Bridget was just a little bit peeved when she discovered them and she chased her wayward husband out of the house, apparently raining blows on him with her rolling pin as she did so, until finally she'd knocked the arsehole clean out in the rear garden. 

Whilst Bridget was otherwise occupied, Fiona had decided that making herself scarce would be the prudent thing to do. Fiona had thrown some clothes on, and was in the process of making her escape through the front door when Bridget, having dealt with one of the adulterers, found the time to deal with the other. Somehow Bridget had lost her rolling pin, when it had become imbedded in the windscreen of Fiona's car. It was apparent that the two women then entertained the growing crowd of concerned(?) neighbours, with a traditional catfight.

From the look of the two girls' clothes, or should I say the lack of them, it had nearly got to the point where it could be called pornographic. It appears that besides trying to pull each other's hair out and scratch their opponent's eyes out, they had tried to remove each other's clothing as well, one small piece at a time; from what I could see they very nearly succeeded, before the police arrived and stopped play. It took three ambulances to take all the protagonists to three separate hospitals, for safety's sake, the police informed me later me later.

For economy of words and as this story isn't really about Fiona and me. Both women were charged with public order offences and with assaulting police officers. The police did ask me if I wanted to charge Fiona with assaulting me as well, as it had fallen to me to calm her down in the end and I hadn't gotten away completely unscathed. Actually when she saw it was me she was fighting with, Fiona fainted, probably because she realised the bubble was about to burst. 

Anyway Bridget was charged with GBH on her husband as well. Fiona and I divorced pretty quickly, although the arguments over maintenance slowed things down a bit and the paternity case went on for a year or so. But DNA tests were to prove that I was no relation to Fiona's son, or the daughter she bore seven months after her fight with Bridget. Quite a disappointment really, as I was just about getting used to the idea of being a daddy. 

Oh, neither child had the same father and out of interest, Bridget's husband didn't sire either of the children either. God only knows what happened to Bridget's marriage and I didn't really care. I did kick the shit out of Bridget's husband outside one of the local pub's one night; strange but there were never any ramifications to that one. I never could understand that, as he knew full well who it was that worked him over that night. Perhaps the bastard found a conscience, or maybe he was just relieved that he didn't have to keep looking over his shoulder any more.

Fiona does have a bit of a habit of turning up at my place now and again, asking me whether I can forgive her and take her back; some bloody hopes she's got. 

Thinking about that, and what I'd discovered about Lydia and Frank in that night club, I'm beginning wonder whether I've got a bloody big sign on my back that says "MUG" in great big letters. You know, is there something about my personality that tells folks this stupid bastard can be taken for a bleeding ride?

Okay, enough of the history; back to the real story. There I was walking out of the club, totally pissed-off with the world and just about everyone in it, when Sharon, one of the girls who's always kicking around the local club scene comes up to me. Sharon's a nice, pretty girl, but she appears to spend most of her time in a state of permanent inebriation. Christ knows how the girl ever finds her way home at night. No, that's a silly question, Sharon probably gets a "ride" home quite easily; she just has to figure out who's bleeding bed she has woken up in, in the morning.

Damn it, there I go digressing again. Anyway Sharon comes up - correction, "staggers" up to me - mumbles her normal greeting, "Hello, Handsome." And then she throws her arms around my neck and proceeds to try to lick and suck my tonsils out; you get the general idea. Now this wasn't actually an unusual thing for Sharon to do, because she is a very friendly girl, but it always is a little disconcerting. You never knew who or what had been in that mouth of hers earlier in the evening. No, not me. I'd always treated Sharon as a friend; besides one course of penicillin jabs in the arse when I was young had been enough for me to get a little careful over the years.

"What wonderful news. Congratulations to you and Lydia," Sharon slurred at me after she removed her tongue from my throat. Then releasing me from her grasp and, before I'd recovered my breath enough to say anything to her, she promptly disappeared into the crowd again.

"Damn it, that's old news now, Sharon," I thought to myself. At Lydia's mother's insistence the official announcement of our engagement had been posted in the local newspaper that very week. Sharon didn't know that that engagement had just come to a sudden and unexpected end.

Out in the car park, I found Frank's car and kicked both headlights in. Yeah, well, it's the kind of thing you do when you're pissed off and drunk. Well, I think it was Frank's car anyway; you know you don't really think straight when you're in the condition I was that night. 

I was about to kick in the headlights on Lydia's car, when the thought entered my mind that it wasn't a very good idea, when you consider that it was actually my car. I let Lydia use my car when I was out of town. So instead, I dug the keys out of my pocket and drove the damn thing home. No, not really a clever thing to do, when you'd drunk as much as I had that day, but I wasn't in any condition to think sensibly.

I stormed into the house and to start with, I was knocking the place about a bit. You know breaking ornaments and the like. But then it struck me that it was my fucking house I was busting up, so that wasn't a good idea either. Although Lydia had been staying there most of the time for the previous six months or so. It was my bleeding house I was smashing up.

I'm not sure what happened after that, I must have fallen asleep on the bed. Anyway I think it was about two AM when my bloody mobile phone started ringing and woke me up. You know what it's like when you waken from a drunken stupor. I knew I could hear the bloody phone, but I was buggered if I could find the damn thing. The phone went to the message service before I found it in the laundry basket. How did it get in there? Well, I'm buggered if I know, but that's where it was. I tracked the fucking thing down by calling it from the landline.

There was a message on the answering service from Lydia, telling me that my car had been stolen. Well, I suppose that was the obvious conclusion for her to come to. As far as she and lover boy Frank knew, I was still in Holland. 

"Ah, shit!" I thought and didn't reply; then I must gone back to sleep.

It was almost nine AM when that bloody mobile started ringing again. I let it go to the message service as I staggered out of bed and went to the kitchen. Coffee, aspirin and some hair of the dog was called for. Not necessarily in that order.

The message from Fiona was just asking me if I received her previous message about the car being stolen the night before and telling me that Frank was going to drive her to the airport to meet me.

"Bollocks to the bastards!" I thought; they were going to have a fucking long wait, because I wouldn't be there. 

Hey, Scotch in coffee ain't very nice, so I switched to rum. Ah, now, that was much better. 

Then I got to thinking. What the fuck was going to happen later in the day? Fiona and Frank would go to the airport and I was sure that they'd eventually discover that I had cashed in my air ticket or not turned up for the plane anyway. Obviously they would try and call me on the bloody mobile; but in the end they were bound to turn up at the house sometime, and then what?

Well, I figured that I would most likely kill someone. Possibly both of them. I pulled one of the carving knives out of the block on the kitchen worktop and looked at it. Trying to decide if it would make a suitable weapon to kill the pair of them with.

But then I decided that it wouldn't. Fuck all that blood splattered over my nice new kitchen units. Damn it, we've all seen how much blood gets splattered around when someone gets stabbed, on those bloody TV crime shows. Bollocks, I ain't having my new kitchen messed up like that.

Okay, next available weapon - my shot gun. I could shoot them as they got out of the car outside. No, too bleeding noisy; that really wasn't going to do my head any good. Fuck, my head was aching badly enough as it was. Anyway I didn't know what effect the clay pigeon cartridges I had would have on the human body; probably just wound them. If you're going to do a job, you might as well be sure you're going to achieve the result you'd planned.

I didn't think either of them was going to stand still long enough for me to strangle them, so I had to come up with some other idea. The trouble was, I couldn't think of any.

There was only thing I could do and that was not to be at the house when they turned up, as I knew they had to do sometime. I would go away somewhere and then come up with a plan to kill both of them. Yeah, that sounded like a good idea to my befuddled brain.

That decision made, I had no trouble in working out where to go. A distant relative, an aunt, had left me her cottage near Ffestiniog in Wales when she had passed away some years ago. I'd used the cottage as a kind of holiday home and rented it to my friends sometimes for the odd weekend or so. Of course I'd put the place up for sale, for more capital for Frank and my little business venture, but I could stay there for the time being. Balls, there no longer was a partnership with Frank and I didn't have to sell it; I could stay there as long as I liked.

I began to pack some gear for an extended stay in the cottage. As I was putting one of my suitcases in the car, who the hell should come walking up the road but Fiona and Sharon! Both of them were looking like they hadn't been home from the night before yet.

"Hi, what you doing handsome?" Sharon asked.

"What does it look like I'm doing, Sharon? I'm packing for a trip away for a few days." 

"Wan-na hand?" Fiona drunkenly slurred.

I have no idea why I accepted her offer.

"Would help, I suppose!" I answered.

"What you got to drink?" Sharon asked the moment we got inside the house.

"Coffee, Scotch or Rum." I replied, leading them into the kitchen. Where we all proceeded to down coffee's laced with our respected preference.

Shortly after that we all climbed into my car - I can't remember what we did about the rest of my luggage - and I was giving the girls a lift to Fiona's house, before I started on my journey to Wales. 

When the police car first appeared in my rear view mirror, I tried to ignore him until, that is, he was joined by a couple of friends and the blue lights started flashing. Then I thought I'd better pull over.

"Would you mind stepping out of the car, sir?" The officer asked as he approached. Damn it the copper looked familiar. You know I'll swear he was the spitting image of Soapy, my old form teacher at school. Could even have been his son or something.

I got out of the car, then in that familiar tone I remembered Soapy using when he'd caught me bunking off classes, or breaking some other school rule, he asked me if it was my vehicle. I of course told him it was.

"This car was reported stolen last night, sir," he informed me.

Damn stupid of me, I'd forgotten all about that. Well, I could prove it was mine. I had the relevant documents and my passport to prove who I was, as well. But the officer's attention seemed to have been distracted in other directions by then. He appeared to forget all about the car being stolen. 

"Have you been drinking today, sir?" Now I'm not daft, I gathered he could smell a little alcohol on my breath, so there was no sense in denying it.

"I had a little drop of rum before I came out. Only a small one though, officer."

Yeah, well, you got it. The next thing I know I'm blowing up his little bag for him. A positive result and I'm on my way to the nick. God only alone knows what happened to Fiona and Sharon. I don't remember seeing them after I got out of my car.




A Cautionary Tale



Who should I find at the Nick taking my blood sample, but my own bleeding doctor; now that was a surprise! The cheeky bastard had the audacity to ask me how the wedding plans were going. Well, I told the old bleeder to mind his own bloody business. 

Come on, that wasn't too bad. "Old bleeder" and "bloody business" when the old sods taking a blood sample. Who says that being pissed takes away your sense of humour? 

The next thing I know, I'm sleeping it off in a cell. I have no idea how long I laid there. I remember that after sometime a policeman woke me up and we did another breath test thing. Well, that happened several times actually, until one finally showed a negative reading. Strange thing was that this copper reminded me of my Uncle Harry. Uncle Harry had been a nice guy who was always telling my father that he was being too hard on me, when I wasn't in Dad's good books.

I was attempting to put the laces back into my shoes in the charging area, when Lydia and Frank walked in. Ah, well, I got in a couple of quick punches, before I was back in my little cell again. I was beginning to feel quite at home in that little room by then. 

On the Monday morning, I'm in the magistrates court where I'm charged with affray in the police station (Frank didn't press assault charges) and being drunk in charge of a motor vehicle. Now the really weird thing was that the chief magistrate reminded me of the boss at the first job I ever had. I was beginning to think that all the booze I'd consumed in the previous few days had had a really serious effect on my mind. Anyway a four hundred pound fine, a three-year driving ban and I was bound-over to keep the peace, for one year by the old bastard. Never did like that bugger.

This time it was Lydia on her own, who met me outside the courthouse.

"I'm sorry but I fell in love with Frank while you were away," was the first thing she said to me!

"Fucking hell, Lydia, I was only gone one night!"

"Well, it happened very quickly. Anyway Frank's much better in bed than you are," she said with a smile on her face.

"How the fuck would you know that so fucking quickly. You wouldn't sleep with me for three months?"

"Ah, well, but we were a little short on time. You said yourself you were only supposed to be away one night."

I didn't have an answer for that one. So all that I could think of to do was walk away from her.

Out in the car park, I found Fiona sitting there in my car. How the hell do I know what the fuck she was doing there; she just was! Anyway Fiona drove me home. 

No one will ever believe this, but I hadn't been in the house for more than a few minutes when the telephone rang. Fiona answered it and called out that it was Frank and he wanted to speak to me.

"Look, mate, I hope Lydia and I getting married isn't going to upset our planned partnership?" Frank said.

"What? You bleeding arsehole, of course it is. You've got to trust people before you can go into business with them," I replied angrily. Just where do these people get their ideas from?

"But I trust you implicitly," Frank informed me.

"For fuck's sake! I don't trust you anymore, Frank. I wouldn't trust you to ... to ... to lead a blind man across the bleeding street. There's no way I'm setting up in business with you."

"Oh, damn it, mate, Lydia and I were hoping you'd be my best man at the wedding as well. After all it was through knowing you that brought us together."

"Fuck off, Frank! I never want to see either you or Lydia again." I shouted down the phone and slammed the handset down.

"You're not marrying Lydia then?" Fiona asked.

"Jesus, girl, I couldn't trust her any further than I could trust you. Of course I'm not going to marry her. Anyway she doesn't want to marry me anymore. She says Frank's better in bed than I am."

"Oh, I wonder why she thinks that? I thought you knocked spots off him in bed, if you ask me."

"Which I didn't!" I shouted at her.

"All right, all right, keep your bloody hair on." Fiona admonished me, "But believe me, you're far better in bed than Frank any day, and you can out-last him by miles. Jesus, he's only good for once or twice at the most, and he just won't go down on a girl, no matter how much of an enthusiastic blow job you give him."

"Fiona, shut it. I don't wish to hear about Frank's prowess in bed and I really don't want to know how you would know anyway. Besides Frank's always had a big mouth and I know he doesn't go down on his women. He's told me quite a few times that he thinks it's a demeaning thing for a man to do." 

"Yeah, Frank can be a real arsehole sometimes!" Fiona added. Fiona always was one for having the last word.

Damn, this conversation was pissing me even more than I had been. I figure that it wouldn't be long before I lashed out at Fiona. I couldn't understand what she was doing there anyway.

"Look, Fiona, I really need to be on my own for a while. Would you please leave now?"

"No chance! What, me leave now, when you've just broken up with Lydia. You must be joking; this is what I've been waiting for. You need cheering up and I'm just the girl to do it. Come on, you've got the wedding all planned you can marry me again."

"Oh, fucking hell!" I cried out, as I ran out of the front door. I'm not sure what was pushing me along, but in a couple of seconds I was reversing my car out of the drive. 

Yeah, yeah, I know I was banned from driving. But if I'd stayed in that house a moment longer, there would have been Fiona's blood all over those nice new kitchen units of mine.

The drive over to Ffestiniog seemed to go far quicker than it ever had done before and the next thing I knew I was kneeling on the cottage floor lighting the fire. Then things got really weird. There was a knock at the door and who should come strolling into the cottage but Jacques and Jose.

I really couldn't understand what the hell Jacques and Jose were doing in Wales, but then they explained that Jose had got a little lost on their flight to France and they had landed in Wales. Of course that didn't explain how they had found me at the cottage, but for some reason that question didn't enter my head at the time.

"Come along," Jacques said. "We are going to have another party at the hotel."

Like a lamb, I followed the obviously extremely drunken pair out of the cottage. From there things got a little hazy. I remember that we were having one whale of a time. There was girls and singing, and Jose dancing one of those flamenco things and then....

Jesus, my head hurt. Christ, my bloody back was killing me as well. My eyes were tightly clamped closed because I feared what effect the light was going to have on my senses. I tried to change position to get myself more comfortable and then I was suddenly falling onto a hard floor. My feet appeared to be caught up somewhere above me and no amount of twisting or turning would get them free.

I very cautiously opened my eyes a little. All I could see was a sign hanging on the wall, but to me it definitely didn't look like it was written in English.

"Ah, you fucking idiot," I thought to myself, "its in Welsh! No, no, it fucking ain't; the bleeding words are much too short."

The Welsh seem to like long unintelligible words. No, this bloody sign was in some other language. "Oh, bloody shit, it's in Dutch!" I sat up and looked around. There were Jose and the other French guy sleeping on some chairs that had been pushed together, obviously the same way I had been.

Suddenly a rather loud Jacques entered the room carrying a tray with four cups of coffee on it and calling for everybody to wake up.

"Where the fuck are we?" I asked Jacques.

"We are in the crew room at the air field. They would not let Jose fly the plane. They say he is too - how do you say? - he has too much beer."

"Ah, he's pissed."

"Yes, they say he has pissed and he must not fly the plane. So we sleep here."

"What day is it?" Jacques

"Saturday, why do you ask?"

"It doesn't matter Jacques, let's just say I'm very happy to hear you say that. And I don't think I'm ever going to drink alcohol again."

Life goes on.



A Cautionary Tale



The following diary excerpts were submitted as evidence in the trial of one Mr. Albert C. Gradulunk.

*

Tuesday, November 13

I was late to work again, and this time my boss said something because I missed an important meeting. I made some excuse about traffic, figuring I shouldn't tell him the real reason I was late. I thought I could make it quick this morning, but I had such a great fantasy in my head and, well, one thing led to another and before I knew it I'd spent a good 45 minutes.

I really need to get hold of myself (hah! Not that way!) and control this behavior. That's it. I'll go the next week without masturbating. I quit smoking, so I know I can do this.

Wednesday, November 14

Nothing to it. Sure, I woke up with the usual morning erection, and even started stroking myself before I remembered that I'm taking the week off. Work was busy all day and after that dinner meeting I'm exhausted. Even if I wanted to tonight, I'd be too tired.

Thursday, November 15

Remember when you were in junior high school and you'd get those spontaneous erections at the most inopportune times, like just before the teacher called your name and asked you to come up to the board and tell everybody where along the track the two trains are going to collide? The same sort of thing happened to me today, although I managed not to embarrass myself. I had one scare at the beginning of a staff meeting, but thankfully it subsided before I had to get up and give my presentation.

Two whole days without masturbating in the morning or at night. I don't miss the nights so much as the mornings. That always woke me up even better than exercise. But I'm determined to make this work.

Friday, November 16

I woke up in the middle of the night from a very vivid erotic dream. I was fondling myself and stroking. It's only been since Tuesday and already I'm starting to doubt whether I can make it through the week. Does it count if I masturbate in my sleep?

Work was difficult. I had to spend most of the day at my desk, hiding my arousal from everybody else. I even turned down a lunch invitation from Susan because there's no way she could have missed the tent in my pants had I stood up. This would have been our third lunch together in two weeks, and the first one she invited me to. After all this time, and just my luck that I couldn't accept. She was clearly disappointed. I'll make it up to her next week.

I had to skip happy hour tonight, too. There's no way I could have spent a few hours at the bar eyeing that waitress (Rachel with the beautiful smile, fine ass, nice firm round bre...stop that!) and not come home to jerk off. I might have willpower, but I know my limitations.

Saturday, November 17

I don't know if I can do this. It's only three more days, but I'm about to burst! I knew the weekend would be difficult if I didn't fill my day with something, so I got up early for a bike ride. I've finally got the morning erection under control, but that was small consolation. Do you have any idea how good those women cyclists look from behind as I'm catching up to them? Worse, do you have any idea how difficult it is to ride with a hardon? And I had to pass up the perfect opportunity, too. A stunning woman was stopped at the side of the road trying to fix a flat tire, and I had to pass her by because there's absolutely no way I could have hidden the lump in my bicycle shorts. Damn! I thought exercise would help me take my mind off things, but even after a long ride I had to take a cold shower before it'd go down.

I didn't go to Randy's bachelor party. Any other night I wouldn't be embarrassed at a topless bar, but the way I'm feeling right now I'd probably cum in my pants. If I didn't have to be at the wedding tomorrow morning I'd get rip-roaring drunk tonight so I couldn't get it up even if I wanted to. As it is, I'm considering taping my hands to my legs before I go to sleep.

Sunday, November 18

I didn't tape my hands last night, but this morning my erection just wouldn't go down. So I taped my cock to my stomach. There was no way I could miss Randy's wedding. It was mighty uncomfortable, and kind of awkward when I had to use the bathroom. I got an odd look when I came out of the stall one time. I think the guy heard the sound of the tape coming off the roll that time I had to replace it.

Of course I shaved before I put the tape on this morning. No way I was going to have hair ripped out. But now it itches like crazy and just makes me think about it more. I swear I'm going to make it, though. Only Monday and Tuesday left to go.

Something else I noticed today. I think women can tell that I'm in what you would term a heightened state of arousal. And I think they like it. They're not turned on by the horny jerks who are always making lame come-ons, but they seem to know the effect they're having on me, and enjoy it. Several of the women I danced with at the reception pressed themselves against me and smiled when they felt how hard I was. Even Stephanie, who never even flirted the tiniest bit with me, felt it and asked if she always had that effect on me. Maybe it's all just my imagination, but I think I had a better than even chance of taking one of those women home, but there's no way I was going to get my hopes up and then fail. It's bad enough sitting here trying not to give in to temptation.

I might have to sleep in a cold bath tonight.

Monday, November 19

I didn't even try to get my erection down this morning. I took my shower, dried off, and reached for the tape. It's surprising how fast I've gotten used to the feeling. I swear I've been hard since Saturday evening. I wonder if there's some sort of world record for longest erection.

I saw Susan this morning when I got in, and asked her if she'd like to have lunch. The way her eyes lit up when she smiled and accepted made my cock twitch so hard I thought it was going to break the tape. She looked especially nice today, and I told her so. That got me another smile and another frightening twitch. I figured I'd better go sit down and not take any more chances.

We had a nice lunch, if a little rushed. She knows something is up (haha, not that way, you perv), but has no idea what. Three different times she asked me if something was wrong. I told her everything was fine and that I really enjoyed being with her, but I don't know if she believed it. It's not like I could tell her that it'd been six days since I've masturbated and that finally being so close to her had me harder than I'd been since Mary Jo Slopinsky gave me my first blowjob. If Susan had touched me, it would have been over faster than it was that night in the back seat of my dad's old Chevy station wagon.

Women do notice when a guy is horny. Must be pheremones or something. All the women in the office today were unusually friendly. Any other time, I would have been happy to flirt and tease right along with them. But in my present state there's no telling what might happen. If I could somehow manage not to masturbate for a month, I'd have women throwing themselves at me. Or maybe my extreme horniness is making me see things that aren't there.

Anyway, I think I'm actually going to pull this thing off. (Did you ever notice how many common expressions like "something's up," "pull this thing off," etc. can be construed as having something to do with masturbation?) All I have to do is make it through tonight and tomorrow, and I'll have gone a whole week without masturbating. 

Wednesday morning, November 21

My life is over.

Yesterday started like the last three days: with an erection that was almost painful. But I knew that it would be over when I got home from work. All I had to do was remain seated in my office all day, avoid interaction with any women, and keep my mind on my work. After the ritual cock taping job, I headed in to the office.

Things went well all morning. Susan was busy with something when I came in and just gave me a brief smile and "Hello" before turning back to her task. I went to my office and sat down, immersing myself in the current project so as to take my mind off the discomfort of the tape and the itching from my shaved pubic area. Before I knew it, it was 12:30 and I decided I could skip lunch for the day. Only four more hours and I could go home to relieve the pressure that had been building for the last week.

About 1:00, I received an email from an online friend, wondering where I'd been for the last week. The message was accompanied by a little story--a fantasy encounter--that, in retrospect, I should not have read at the time. I could feel my cock straining against the tape, and had to close that message before getting to the end. I then spent the next 45 minutes with my eyes closed, trying to calm down.

Mandy came in at a little after two and sat across from me, wanting to discuss her role in the project. Even in the best of times I had difficulty keeping my eyes from wandering over her body. Yesterday she seemed to be encouraging it. Who could have guessed that discussing a data entry project could be an erotic experience? Every sentence she uttered was punctuated with a sexual reference. She would lick her lips and smile, crossing and uncrossing her legs. When the meeting was over 15 minutes later, she reached out to trail her fingers across my cheek: "Al, you need to relax." I shuddered and smiled, gazing longingly at her shapely ass as she walked out the door.

I finally got myself under control again about 3:00, just in time for Susan to come in and shut the door. I tried to protest that I was busy but she just stood there with her back to the door, watching me silently until I quieted down.

"Al, we've been dancing around each other for months. I've been hoping you'd ask me out. But after lunch yesterday, I don't know if you're interested."

"Susan, I..."

"I'm not done," she interrupted. "Thursday is Thanksgiving, and I don't have any plans. I'd love to make dinner for you--just the two of us. Let me know by tomorrow at noon so I can pick up what I need at the store during lunch."

That said, she turned and walked out, leaving me with a huge smile on my face and my discomfort temporarily forgotten. I looked at the clock: only an hour and fifteen minutes to go. I decided to drop by Susan's desk on the way out and accept her invitation.

When four thirty rolled around, I stood and gathered my things. I might not have been consciously thinking of my predicament, but my subconscious must have been working overtime. My erection was painfully hard, trapped against my stomach, and I had to lean against the wall for a few minutes to settle down before I could make my way--trying not to walk funny--out the door. I stopped by Susan's desk as planned and smiled when she looked up.

"Susan, I can't think of anything I'd rather do on Thanksgiving than spend the day with you."

The smile on her face was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. She stood up and launched herself forward, wrapping her arms around me and lightly kissing my cheek. I couldn't do anything but return the hug while trying to keep her away from my erection. We held each other for a few seconds and then she moved away, trailing her fingers down my forearms and looking into my eyes.

"You know, I'm free tomorrow night, too. . ."

I shivered at the possibilities, then squeezed her hands and told her I'd see her in the morning. Just her simple touch, a light kiss, and the intoxicating scent of her hair and perfume had me on the verge of orgasm. I sat in the car gathering my wits for a few minutes and then started on my way home. Only a half hour to go, I thought, and I'd be free of this torture! I rolled down the window, turned on the radio, and eased myself into the rush hour traffic.

Halfway home I remembered that I needed some things from the grocery store. I would have put it off except that Ralph the cat was out of food, and I didn't want him interrupting my plans when I got home. So I stopped at the store, planning to rush in, get that one item, and be on my way.

I made my way through the store, trying not to even look at the women walking around. I recall picking out Ralph's favorite cat food and heading toward the register. Just as I was approaching the express lane, an unbelievably good-looking young woman rushed in front of me, her arms full of items. Placing everything on the conveyor, she turned and smiled at me saying, "Sorry, but I was about to drop this."

She was stunning: about 5'6", light brown hair, a radiant smile. Her large breasts were nicely displayed in a low-cut top, and her nipples were prominent. A very short skirt revealed tanned, toned legs, and simple open-toed sandals accentuated her lovely feet. I could feel pressure on the tape again and smiled as best as I could. "That's okay. I'm not in any hurry."

She smiled and winked, and as she turned around her hand knocked a box off the conveyor and onto the floor. Her skirt rode up as she bent to retrieve the dropped item. I quickly turned away hoping to avert the coming disaster, but she stumbled back against me. In an attempt to keep from falling myself and knocking over the magazine rack, I grabbed her hips and leaned forward. The cat food container flew out of my hand and fell to the floor, splitting open and scattering kitty chunks everywhere. 

This prevented us from falling, but had the unfortunate effect of pressing her shaved and thong-covered pussy tightly against my straining erection, which finally broke free of the tape, ripped my jockey shorts, and burst through the zipper of my pants.

The last thing I remember before passing out is my hard shaft pressed against the heat of her pussy as I ejaculated under her skirt. I still don't know if her orgasm was real or a figment of my admittedly overworked imagination.

I awoke sprawled on a mess of cat food, the box of crackers she had knocked off the conveyor poking me in the back. My flaccid penis was sticking out of my broken zipper, and the the woman was standing over me screaming. All I could see was her thong, and my cum dripping down the inside of her skirt. A crowd was gathering and the security guard was rushing over. An older woman thankfully covered my exposed penis with a supermarket tabloid, and the cashier led the still-screaming young woman away from the scene. I struggled to stand but the security guard wouldn't let me get beyond a sitting position until after the cops arrived.

I spent last night in jail and was released this morning on bond after being arraigned on charges of sexual assault, indecent exposure, and four counts of lewd conduct with a child--the last because there were children in the group of people gathered around, and who saw my penis before that woman covered it up. My lawyer thinks we can beat that last charge easily, but the other two will be more difficult. I've also received notice that the young woman who I "assaulted" will be filing a civil suit claiming emotional distress and seeking unspecified damages.

To top it all off, Susan left a message on my cell phone early this morning saying that she couldn't believe she'd been taken in by a pervert such as myself, and that if I ever even tried to talk with her she would seek a restraining order and file charges of sexual harassment. Not that there's any chance of me seeing her again. My boss just called and said that my behavior in the supermarket yesterday is a violation of my employment contract and grounds for immediate dismissal. He will be gathering my things personally and will deliver them this afternoon along with a check covering the balance of my accrued vacation and sick time.

Altogether it's been a horrible week and I need to take my mind off of it. I think I'll go jerk off now. 



A Cautionary Tale



Copyright 2011 by madengineer3

This is largely a true story. Names and locations have been changed, but the facts are correct. I hope that this father's loss will warn others in similar circumstances.

*

My name is Henry, the last name doesn't count. I have worked in industries that require applied physical sciences for most of my adult life. Don't misjudge me, I am not an anti-people nerd. 

I married my college sweetheart over forty years ago, and our marriage is strong. That strength has been, and is, tested almost on a daily basis; but not because we ourselves have a problem. 

My wife and I both have blood relatives who have exhibited emotional/mental instabilities. We became aware of this when our son, George, started to go to public school. We had brought George up to be (what used to be called) a gentleman. That is, he was taught that it is never right to hit a girl/woman. He also knew that men were to open doors for them. They are to be protected as much as we can arrange it. Cussing was not allowed in our house. Essentially any adult born before 1950 would understand exactly what we were trying for.

Along about this time it became clear that George had inherited my tendency to depression. He received excellent care from a psychiatrist who put him on an antidepressant that had a good track record for young people.

George was not a well coordinated young man. He took after his father, me. Because of the lack of coordination George was never good at sports. Because of that and the fact that he didn't curse he was picked on unmercifully from about fifth grade on through graduation. Because of this he had a soft spot in his heart for the underdog. That was his major weak point. George turned his interests toward mathematics. He was very, very good at abstract mathematics. 

George started out in college as a mathematics major, and his life seemed to take off! It was wonderful to see him smiling. He still applied himself to mathematics but also occasionally spent some time with his classmates. One of his classmates was a girl who should have been named, oops! I don't use words like that. Let's just call her Carol. Carol was a large boned girl who had large breasts and was hunting for a prospective boyfriend.

Unfortunately, she set her sights on George. Initially, George felt sorry for her (as an underdog) but also became physically attracted to her.

George fell for her. However, within a couple of months Carol realized that she might be losing him. So, she used the oldest emotional blackmail trick in the book. She told him that if he left her she would kill herself. (I could only wish that she had! My son would probably be alive today.)

George worked hard in school and at his outside job to help pay for that schooling. He still stayed with Carol. Carol and George married and a year later had their first child; our granddaughter Sophie. George was a doting father and also suffering from spouse abuse from Carol. She took advantage of the fact that George wouldn't hit a woman. She hit and threw things at him. She also knew nothing about cooking and housekeeping!

　

Now, Carol had been brought up in a family that was family in name only. Her father and older brother sexually molested her over a long time period. She was also taught (by example) that it was o.k. to write bad checks, promise to pay for something and then forget about the payment, and lie (I believe she is a pathological liar.). Because of the rapes, that she never got (and refused to get) counseling for, Carol had to sleep with the lights on. 

George's emotional problems escalated due to his inability to get a decent night's sleep. He probably did not have more than three or four hours continuous sleep a night. Around this time George developed a painful "tick" in some of his his larger muscles. The doctor, who reviewed his case, decided that George was also bipolar and suffering from a convulsive disorder. He was put on some very strong medicine and informed him that he needed a good night's sleep every night and on a regular schedule. Carol, knowing better than a board certified psychiatrist, didn't change how she slept. She wouldn't even allow him to sleep in a separate room so that he could sleep. (Since Carol is also a screamer it is doubtful that he could have slept anyway.)

George graduated Magna Cum Laude with a bachelor's degree in mathematics. He had raving reviews from his mathematics and physics professors. About a year later George killed himself. He couldn't take the emotional and physical strain anymore. Carol might as well have been the one who pulled the trigger. At the funeral, George's mathematics professor indicated that George was one of the two brightest math majors he had ever had.

What have we got now? Carol has allowed herself to balloon to a massive physical size (she is obese). That means that she has had no man in her life (since George) and that our granddaughter, Sophie, has been brought up with Carol as her teacher and mentor. My wife talks to Sophie on a daily basis (on the phone since they moved half way across the country). My wife tries to mitigate the damage that Carol is doing to Sophie's mind and morals. It's hard work from a thousand miles away.

What is the bottom line? If a woman or man is told by a "significant other" that the "significant other" will kill themselves if they drop them; drop them as fast as you can! If you have a child who says that their "significant other" has threatened to commit suicide if the relationship is broken off; do everything in your power to get your child out of the relationship!!

I am not joking when I say your, or your child's, life may well hang in the balance.



A Cautionary Tale



This is a true story that happened some years ago, but the memory is still fresh.

One of my wife's (and mine) closest friends was a woman that my wife worked with. The friend's name is Janet and she was at our house often and was like an aunt to our two children. Janet was fun, smart and lively. She also happened to be a lesbian. Her homosexuality was not really a topic of discussion for two reasons. The first being we didn't really care either way if she was gay or not, and the second was she could have troubles at work if everyone knew about it. So it was not something that was discussed and didn't really matter (to us, anyway). This is the story of one night when the three of us had sex together.

We had gone out to dinner together and there was some talk of sex in general. It was pretty innocent and not an unusual conversation among adults. However, it was the first time any talk of sex had ever occurred between the three of us. It was a topic that my wife had always been quite conservative about. We certainly had fun together in the bedroom, but that is where it stayed and was never really discussed with anyone else. So this innocent conversation we had while out for dinner was a bit surprising to me.

After dinner, we went to one of Janet's favorite bars. It was a gay bar, and really a lot of fun. It was a great atmosphere that made you want to have fun and dance and drink. There were a few girls making out with girls, and a couple of guys doing the same thing. After dancing and drinking for a couple of hours, The three of us went back to our house.

When we walked in, the place was really quiet because the kids were gone. If you are a parent, you probably understand that when your kids are gone out of the house, it brings an unusual silence in there and that is how it felt that night.

We had had a great time so far and I don't think any of us wanted it to end, so we served up another round of drinks and sat down at the kitchen table for a couple games of Cribbage. We did a pretty good job of keeping our buzz going with the alcohol. It wasn't too much drinking, but enough to lower the inhibitions and increase the fun factor.

After our second game of cards was finished, I asked the girls what they wanted to play now. My wife suggested Poker, which I thought unusual because I didn't even know she new how to play. In the back of my head I felt like something was up, but I refused to believe it because she was so conservative.

"Poker sounds good." I said. "What should we bet with?" It was silent for a few long seconds until my wife said:

"How about our clothes?" To say I was stunned was an understatement.

Right away, though, Janet slapped her hand on the table and exclaimed:

"I'm in!"

I always felt that Janet had "a thing" for Karen and why not? Karen was a beautiful and sexy looking woman. She is about 5'5" and blond with curves in the right places. She is not skinny and definitely not fat. Her breasts are a large 34C that are full and sag just a little. The slight sag of her tits is incredibly sexy as it shows the weight of them and gives them real motion during sex. Karen's ass is full and round and looks great in clothes but even better without. She has just enough cushion that fucking her from behind creates slight ripples on her ass and it's a sight to behold. Also at the time, both women were training for a triathlon, so they were looking great.

Janet is an all-around bigger woman than Karen. Again, not overweight or fat, but taller, stronger and larger everywhere. Some might call her "butch" as she preferred a flannel shirt and jeans over a blouse and pants. I have also witnessed her fixing an outboard motor, changing a tire and swinging an axe to chop wood for a fire (things my wife would never do).

After a refresher on Poker hands for Karen, the card game started and it wasn't long before she was the first to lose and took off a sock.

Janet made a joke about how lame it was to take off just one sock, so Karen relented and took off both of them. It was clear that Janet was definitely into this idea and wanted to see her best friend naked at the table with us, and so did I.

Another loss for Karen and her pants came off.

Another loss for Karen and she stood up from the table and slid her pink panties down her legs, bent over to pick them up and threw them on the couch in the living room. Then she walked behind me to the kitchen and grabbed a towel to sit on. I hadn't put it together yet, but her pussy was already wet.

I swear I could see lust in Janet's eyes as they followed my wife's ass into the kitchen and back.

I lost the next hand on purpose to catch up a little, and then lost another.

I pulled down my jeans and my cock was fully hard behind my light blue boxer briefs with a wetspot from my leaking pre-cum. I saw Janet look at Karen (who was smiling and apparently enjoying this so far) and then back to my bulge.

"Hey, guys get wet too. Just like women!" I joked.

It wasn't too long and it was time for Janet's underwear to come off. What I could see of her bush looked neatly trimmed and her ass was big, round and creamy white with perfect skin.

Shirts came off next. Karen was first and when Janet saw her tits bulging out of a lacy bra, she couldn't keep her eyes off her. It was intoxicating to see another person so apparently turned on by my wife.

Skip forward a few hands and I am naked with my cock throbbing and dripping under the kitchen table, my wife Karen is naked with her 34C tits and hard nipples above the table and on full display for her best friend and now its time for that last bra to come off. Janet was wearing a full tank type of athletic bra and her tits looked like they were positively strapped down to her chest. After knowing her for so long, I had no idea her tits would be so big. That probably had something to do with the masculine clothes she preferred.

When the tight sports bra came off and her tits were released and settled into place, they looked twice as big as Karen's with nipples and areola that were tiny in comparison.

Karen and I both just muttered an impressive, "Wow." as we stared. Janet smiled.

So, there we sat.

Naked around the kitchen table.

It was pretty surreal for this married mid-westerner with kids, and certainly nothing that I ever expected or even thought would happen.

Janet spoke first.

"Now, I think the winner of the hand should tell someone to do something."

My wife and I agreed and I was the first winner. It sounds kind of silly now, but I wanted Janet to get a really good look at my wife's naked body so my order was for Karen to get up from the table, and walk away through the living room and back so we could watch her come and go.

She looked so good doing that, and Janet seemed to love it.

I won again and had Janet do the same walk. It was incredibly arousing to see this big-titted lesbian strolling naked through our house.

We were all completely turned on, but we either didn't really know how to make the next step or we were really loving the fun we were having, because when Janet won the next hand she said, "Ok. Now its time for you to walk the walk, big guy." I don't think my cock had ever been harder when I walked around the house for the girls. It felt like a steel bar and bigger than normal. It swayed and bobbed with every step as pre-cum oozed out of the tip.

When I sat back down, my head was spinning with lust and I was eager to see what would happen next.

Janet dealt the cards and Karen won the hand. She said she wanted to see me kiss Janet, so I walked around the table towards her, bent over and started kissing her on the lips. Janet went wild! She started kissing me so hard that our teeth knocked together. Her tongue was in my mouth and her hands were on the back of my head holding me close to her. I started reaching for her tits, but my wife said in a sing-song voice, "Nope, no touching yet!" Our kissing continued for a minute or two until Karen broke us up.

I was flustered and out of breath when I took my seat at the kitchen table again.

Janet dealt again and she won the hand. She said she wanted to see my wife and I kiss. So, again I stood up, walked over to my wife and she stood up to meet me. I held her close and we kissed passionately. We stood there naked and making out right in front of her friend, with my hands gripping and squeezing her ass.

This went on for awhile and I almost forgot about Janet until I felt her body behind me. She was sort of caressing us both, so I reached behind me and stroked her thigh. It was slick with her fluids already. I followed the wetness up to her pussy and easily slipped a finger in. At the realization of how incredibly wet she was, I moaned into Karen's mouth as we continued to kiss.

Janet brought her face up next to my wife's and said, "Your husband has his finger in my pussy."

At that point, the card games were definitely over.

Karen got down to her knees in front of me and started licking and sucking my cock. Janet sort of hugged me from behind and watched while I continued to finger her hot and soaking wet cunt. I could tell that my wife was totally turned on by what an amazing and eager blow job she was giving me.

For some reason, maybe the combination of the alcohol and the weirdness of this whole situation, I didn't feel close to cumming, and after a few minutes Karen stopped the oral and asked Janet, "Do you want to try?"

She replied with an enthusiastic "Yes!" and sat down in the chair behind her.

As I turned around to face Janet, Karen went behind the chair and reaching over Janet's shoulders, started caressing her tits. That is a picture I will never forget. Seeing my formerly conservative wife (or so I thought), rubbing and squeezing her friend's tits and pulling on her nipples was amazing. Her hands looked tiny as she squeezed that big heavy flesh.

Janet looked up at my wife and they both smiled, then she turned her attention to my cock.

She reached out and grabbed it and roughly started tugging on it. She wasn't really stroking it, but more like pulling on it. It actually kind of hurt, but I wasn't about to complain. I found out later, that she had never touched a naked penis before that day. The closest she had come was rubbing some kid's dick though his pants while they were in high school.

Janet rubbed her thumb over the pre-cum oozing out and then put her mouth on my cock. Like her hand job, this was clearly something new to her as her teeth made contact multiple times and she still had a death grip on me with her hand. It was awesome though, because up to that point no one but my wife since we met 15 years prior had touched my cock, let alone sucked on it.

My wife was still rubbing Janet's tits as she sucked me, and I reached down and touched Janet's tits for the first time. Karen's hands and mine touched and she smiled at me. I leaned forward and kissed her and then pulled back a bit and slowly removed my cock from Janet's mouth. I took her hand off my cock and led her into the living room where she sat down on the couch. Karen was right behind me and she sat down on the couch next to her friend.

So, there I was standing in my living room with a raging hard on and two naked women on the couch. One of them, my wife and the other, her best friend.

It was a mind-boggling moment.

Janet moved a little closer to my wife until they were shoulder to shoulder and they started kissing and caressing each other.

I got down on my knees between Janet's legs so I could lick her dripping pussy. When I got up close to it, it was beautiful. There was very little hair on it, and it looked like what I would imagine the pussy of teenage girl would look like even though she was pushing 40 years old. It was small and pink and I couldn't wait to taste it.

As soon as my tongue touched her, she stopped kissing my wife and looked down at me and start spewing forth a stream of dirty talk that actually kind of surprised me.

"Oh, fuck yes. Lick my fucking cunt. Lick it! Lick it! Oh, you filthy mother-fucker!" and there was more. She was kind of bucking on my face, so I just went along for the ride and tried to keep up. It was crazy.

I looked up and Karen was sucking on Janet's left nipple and she was kind of along for the ride, too. That's when I made what I thought was a bold move. I guided my wife down off the couch and between her friend's thighs. She hesitated for a bit as she looked at Janet's pussy up close and then she went for it.

Up to that point in my life, that was the hottest thing I had ever seen. The site of my wife bent over on all fours with her ass in the air and her blond head between Janet's legs and licking her was incredible.

I almost thought Janet was going to cry by the way her voice sounded. Her stream of dirty talk didn't stop, but it changed.

"That's it baby. Lick me. Lick my fucking clit, honey. Can you feel how big and hard it is?"

My wife nodded her head and was clearly enjoying licking her first pussy.

I got behind Karen, put my dick at the opening of her pussy and easily slipped in. She was as wet as I had ever felt her in our many years of marriage.

I fucked her pretty hard while she had a mouthful of snatch.

After a few minutes of my wife's action on her friend's clit, Janet said, "Oh shit, baby. I'm gonna cum!" and put her hands on the back of my wife's head and held her close as she tensed up and gritted her teeth.

It must have been a huge orgasm, because her whole body went rigid and then started shaking.

My lovely wife went along for the ride, and when Janet's orgasm subsided and she began to calm down and relax her body, she got straight up on her knees and practically whispered to Janet, "Do you want my husband to fuck you?"

"Yes." she said.

Janet looked almost limp as I got between her legs. My cock looked huge next to her tiny pussy as I placed it against her hole.

"Are you ready?" I asked.

"I'm ready."

I started to push in and she was very tight. She was so tight that I thought I might be hurting her and I could also tell by the look on her face. I stopped my pushing and asked, "Does it hurt?"

"Yes... But don't stop."

Karen sat down next to Janet and started kissing her face and caressing her tits as I slowly pushed my cock all the way in.

When I was in all the way, I squeezed my cock so it got a little bigger and I felt something hard and rigid in her and she let out a moan.

Cautiously I withdrew and started fucking her. Slowly at first, then she started her dirty talk again.

If she had a lot of dirty talk before, it was nothing compare to what she was saying now.

It flowed out in a stream of profanities.

My wife reached down and started rubbing Janet's clit as I went in and out of her.

It didn't take long and she orgasmed again and that tiny pussy clamped down hard on my cock and almost pushed me over the edge.

I didn't know if I should cum in her or not (I had a vasectomy and she was aware of that), so I had to freeze to stop myself. When her orgasm subsided I told her I almost came.

She said, "Yes. Cum for me. I want to feel it."

So, I started fucking her again. This time it was all about me as I headed towards my orgasm. I fucked her pretty hard until I came deep inside her with what seemed like gallons of cum. It felt like it drained me.

As my vision cleared, I slowly pulled out of her, gave her clit a kiss, then kissed her on the lips and then my wife.

We sat there for a bit and talked about what just happened. That was when Janet told us she had never touched a cock or had one inside her until this day.

Later, we cleaned up and all went to sleep together in our bed.

The next morning, my wife got up and got ready for church and told me and Janet just to relax and do whatever.

We fucked again while my wife was away. When she returned, it was almost time to pick up the kids. Karen and Janet made out and hugged for a bit, then Janet left.

====================

Epilogue:

Our adventures with the three of us continued for over a year.

I watched both girls fuck each other with strap-ons, enjoyed having them both suck my cock at once, went crazy when they tied me up and had me watch them 69 each other, they laid down side by side (porno-style) and let me jack off on them and other crazy things... but, things slowly began to change.

Unknowing to my wife, I was nearby when she told Janet that she loved her. Soon after that, I kind of felt her slipping away from me and towards Janet and I became jealous and resentful.

Eventually, we separated, then divorced and Karen and Janet lived together for quite awhile.

If there is a lesson here, it's probably to be ready for unexpected outcomes and to be in a fully committed, open, honest and mature relationship before trying something of this magnitude.

It sure was fun for awhile!



A Cautionary Tale



Inspired by "Girls' Night Out" by 090909, to whom I offer my gratitude for a stimulating story that has become a favorite of mine. Here is a variation on that theme.

*****

Husband: My wife is in her late thirties, coming up on the big three-nine. I am a few years older. We had been married almost twenty years when the following events occurred, and were compatible and content for the most part. Our love life was conventional but satisfying and seemed to provide both of us with what we needed in that realm. 

She was relatively inexperienced sexually when we married, and we had been faithful to each other. We did discuss fantasies, including mine of "wife watching", that is, watching my wife with another man, and hers of having sex with another man. Neither of us expected either to ever occur, and for me it was simply a mental image I sometimes entertained while making love to my wife. Her fantasy was experiencing sex with another man, as long it was in a safe and sane setting and did not threaten our marriage. She may have also entertained her fantasy as a love-making fantasy while making love to me, but if so she never mentioned it. 

One of her friends, Carol, was turning thirty-nine and three of her friends, including my wife, arranged for Carol and the three friends to go out to dinner, then to have drinks at the hotel near the airport, which had a lounge with a band and had dancing most evenings.

The night of the outing one of the friends was to pick up Carol and my wife and the other friend, and afterwards to bring them home. I cautioned my wife that if their designated driver drank too much during the evening, to call me to pick them up and take them home, or to take a taxi. I would wait up for her, even though both my wife and I usually tended to retire fairly early. I was a little concerned about her safety out on the town on her own, but not overly so.

I always enjoyed our evenings together, and would miss her this evening, but did not mind as I feel that it is important for her to spend time with her friends, as I sometimes do with mine. I told her to text me if she needed a ride home or anything else, and she was off.

A couple of hours later she texted and told me that Carol liked her presents, the dinner had been good, and they were off to the airport hotel lounge so that Carol could dance, although my wife said that she was not interested in dancing, and that she did not wish to stay out late, so she might text me for a ride home.

A short while later my wife texted me again, saying that a man kept asking her to dance, and that she had decided that she did want to dance after all, and would it be alright with me if she did? She would only do it if I was alright with her doing it. I told her, sure, I wanted her to enjoy the evening, and said that she should dance if she wanted to, and to keep me posted on how her evening was going.

And then another text: they had danced together several times, and he was holding her closer each time, and had brushed his hand over her breasts a time or two, and had a hand on her bottom sometimes while they danced. She felt a little funny about this and asked me what she should do - should she come home?

Text from Husband: "Do you like it when he does those things? Luv u xxx."

Husband's Thoughts: Actually I did feel some qualms but did not want to say so. I don't dance well, or much at all really, and she loved to dance. Would dancing with this or another guy make her think she could do better in life than being married to non-dancing me, could have the kind of life she had always wished she had?

Text from Wife: "Please don't be angry, but I do like it. It makes me feel good, and makes me feel that I am still attractive despite my age. Luv u xxx."

Wife's Thoughts: I was not quite honest in how I said that. The dancing and holding are almost magical for me. I am really, really aroused and want much more. But the husband that I love is at home while I am being turned on by another man, a stranger, more than I usually am turned on by my husband. I don't know what to do, given my conflicted feelings.

Text from Husband: "Then continue to dance with him as long as it makes you feel good. And as for being attractive at "your age", I think you are drop dead beautiful and you are a long ways from being some age that affects your attractiveness; have a good evening, and keep me posted. I know that you are my loving wife and that you will not let it get out of hand. Luv u xxx."

Husband's Thoughts: Now I am getting a bit worried. My gut feeling is that she wants to have sex with this man, and may do so, and that I will not do well in comparison. Where might this lead? I am feeling a bit queasy about all this. Ancient, probably pre-human feelings of rejection and betrayal are gnawing at my guts. The pain is almost a pleasure, perhaps a form of masochism? Why do I feel a hint of pleasure from this painful prospect? What the hell is happening to us?

Text from Wife: "The girls are going home, but he wants me to stay and dance some more, and says that he will send me home in a taxi after a just few more dances. What should I do? I do love the dancing. Luv u xxx."

Wife's Thoughts:I don't know how to express how desperately I want to stay and how passionately I want this stranger to fuck me; or indeed if I dare express these feelings. I am hotter than I have been in years, perhaps ever. I want to show myself to him without reservation, to have him plunge inside me, to feel him ejaculate his cum inside me. I hope his penis is massive, I want to feel it unbelievably far inside me, and to feel him filling me so full of cum that my belly is swollen with it. I don't dare tell my husband this.

Text from Husband: "Do you want to stay? Luv u xxx."

Husband's Thoughts: Now I am really worried. I think she has become infatuated with him, or worse. Clearly she wants him to fuck her. Could this leave to her leaving me, or starting to cuckold me repeatedly with a man more important to her than I am? Have the few hours this evening laid the groundwork for the destruction of my marriage and my happiness? Will life be worth living if this happens?

Text from Wife: "Yes, I do, but I am concerned about how you feel about it. We have been dancing very close, with a lot of touching. Luv u xxx."

Wife's Thoughts: Is this how, after years of marriage, one falls in love with another man? Why have my sexual desires for my husband never been as strong as what I am now feeling with a stranger that I only met this evening? Will my husband reject me, leave me? Should he do so if I do this? Why are the feelings I am feeling right now so incredibly strong? If this man fucks me, will my feelings come back to earth and this man not feel so overwhelmingly attractive as he feels now, before he fucks me? Should I not fuck with him? Indeed, can I not fuck him?

Text from Husband: "Are you wet? Has he touched your pussy? Luv u xxx."

Husband's Thoughts: This came up awfully fast. During a period of three hours life has gone from fine to possibly being not worth living. The worse thing I can do now is to be needy and controlling. Better to seem above neediness and clinging than to appear weak and insecure. I think.

Text from Wife: "Yes, I am very wet. Yes, he has touched my pussy, but only through my panties, not directly. I am feeling very aroused, almost reckless. What should I do? I want it to be alright with you, or if it is not I don't want to stay here and will come home immediately. Luv u xxx."

Wife's Thoughts: He actually pushed my panties up inside my pussy, and I loved it. And am I ever wet! I am not sure that I have ever been this wet before. This has gone further than I imagined that it might. Sure, I have long entertained my fantasy of sex with another man, but I never thought that it would become reality, and tonight it may. No, that is not quite true, tonight it will. How am I ever going to keep my husband from detecting that this man has aroused me far more than he, my husband, ever did? How indeed am I ever going to be able to be enthusiastic with my husband after my feelings of this night?

Text from Husband: "I think you are feeling an attraction to your longtime fantasy, discussed by the two of us many times, and it is alright with me if you act on it. I know you love me and if you want to act on your fantasy you certainly have my permission, although of course you do not need permission; but you have it if it is important to you. Luv u xxx."

Husband's Thoughts: My gut feeling is that if I am clingy and seem needy she will lose all respect for me and leave me, now or not too much later; the bad part is that I could be wrong, but I do not think so. I must keep the image of me to her as confident, self-assured, and not feeling threatened if she has or has had sex with this man, or even too concerned about it. I must appear to her to be far too strong and independent to be very concerned about it, and as perfectly capable of going on happily in life with or without her. Which is a lie, but that is how I must appear to her. Women do not respect or stay loyal or faithful to clingy, dependent, wimpy, weakling men; never have, never will, nor I suspect, should they.

Text from Wife: "Ok, I am going to stay and continue to dance with him. I love you for being such a wonderful husband. If you had any objections, I would leave and come straight home. Luv u xxx."

Wife's Thoughts: Again I am not being entirely honest with my husband, and this is not fair, and it is wrong; but I do not dare tell him how I am really feeling. I can no more leave and come home before this man fucks me than I can fly by waving my arms. It shocks me to admit to myself that I am helpless in this: he can do anything he wants to me, and indeed carry me away never to return if he wants to. I hope that that is not what he wants, because if it is, that is what will happen, and my life as I know it will be over. I am glad that we do not have children, because this may well be what happens tonight. How did this happen? How did I suddenly come to feel this way and to feel it so strongly? I know very well that this is wrong, wrong, wrong, but my emotions are past the point of no return. Would I still feel this way tomorrow morning, or in a week, or in a year? God almighty, how did this happen to me? Am I trapped?

Text from Husband: "Text me every half hour or so, I want to be sure that you are safe and having a good time. I am fine with whatever you decide to do. Luv u xxx."

Husband's Thoughts: It is perfectly clear to me that you have already decided what you are going to do, you are going to fuck him. So here come all the stereotype fears: will his penis be longer, thicker, used with more force or talent? Will his chest and shoulders, abs, thighs be so strong and manly that you look on me as a nonentity compared to a new Apollo, and feel accursed at having wasted so many years with me? A friend of mine with a very, very thick penis says that when he puts it in a woman, she usually has a strong orgasm in about five seconds. My guess is that the large circumference immediately stretches and stimulates the g-spot and that the woman goes off like a gun when the hammer falls on the firing pen. What if he is endowed like that and I can never satisfy her again?

Text from Wife: "The lounge is clearing out, and he has asked me to come to his room in the hotel. Should I? Luv u xxx."

Wife's Thoughts: Again, I am wrongly being not fully honest with my loving, longtime husband. There is no way that I am not going to go to his room with him and I hope that he fucks my brains out. Again, again, and again if the truth be known. I hope he is not into that pain and domination stuff, because if he is he has me: he can do anything with or to me that he wants, and I will do anything that he wants me to, including things that I would have died to avoid right up until this night with him.

Text from Husband: "It is up to you. We have discussed your fantasy and mine for many years. I am completely ok with it, do anything that feels right to you. Text me. When you come home, tell me every detail. Wish there was a camcorder recording all the things that you do, I would love to see it all. Remember, thathas been my fantasy. Luv u xxx."

Husband's Thoughts: Is that non-clingy, non-needy, and independent enough? The more primitive part of me would happily knock down their door and kill one or both of them the instant that I saw his penis in her. Fortunately, civilization and conditioning is strong enough to suppress my inner self. I am going to have mental images all night and long after of a massive penis, used with astonishing skill, squirting huge loads of cum into her every portal, again and again. As a matter of fact, that is probably happening right now, even as I think about it. I wish the world was still yesterday, and that today had never happened. Where are things going to go now?

Text from Wife: "I am in his room, and he obviously assumes that we will have sex. I am in the bathroom so that I can text you in private. Are you sure that it is ok? I won't do it if it is not. I can still leave and come home if you want me to. Luv u xxx."

Wife's Thoughts: There it is again, being less than honest with my loving husband. There is no way that I could leave now, or perhaps ever. Have I seen my husband and my home for the last time? Will I be able to bear it? I feel that it is completely out or my hands and beyond my ability to control it. Has this ever happened to other people? Does it happen to all people? If not, to how many? Why me?

Text from Husband: "It is ok. We both know how long you have had this fantasy, and now you can act it out. Text me immediately if you have any inkling or intuition that you are not completely safe, and I will be there immediately. If not, revel in every pleasure that the evening brings you. That is what I want you to do. Luv u xxx."

Husband's Thoughts: I feel like a totally twisted pervert: I want to be there watching, close up. Of course, I have always fantasized about that with my lovely, much loved wife. I wish that right now that is what I was doing: watching. I am disgusted with myself. 

Text from Wife, a while later: "I have been fucked! It was good. Luv u xxx."

Wife's Thoughts: I don't dare tell him how good. It was better than ever before in my life. He made me cum within seconds of pushing his penis into my pussy; and then several times afterwards. His penis is very thick, although not much longer than my husband's; but that thickness sure makes a difference. I was fully and truly stuffed, more so than ever before I my life. 

Text from Husband: "Keep me informed. When you come home I want all the details. Luv u xxx."

Husband's Thoughts: Can I stand to hear all the details? I think I may be lusting more to hear all the details more than I am lusting to fuck her, which I am also lusting to do. Why does the image of her fucking another man make me want to fuck her all the more intensely? It seems that the opposite should be true.

Wife, a while later: "I have been fucked again! It was even better. Luv u xxx."

Wife's Thoughts: And believe me, being even better was not small achievement - the first time was a whole new experience for me, like nothing ever before. And this time was beyond belief. I am sore, though. It was pretty vigorous.

Text from Husband: "I am glad that it was good. When you come home, I am horny as hell from reading your texts, and want to hear more. Luv u xxx."

Husband's Thoughts: I think that it is probably all over for us after all these years, that I am simply inadequate. Will she even come home at all? She might not. 

Text from Wife, a while later: "I am amazed, he is erect again, and asks if it is ok if he enters me anally. Is that ok? Luv u xxx."

Wife: Actually, he did not ask me anything; he turned me over and informed me that he was going to fuck me in the ass. I said that I had never experienced that before, and told him that I was frightened at the prospect. Would it hurt? Was it safe? Were you supposed to use a lubricant? Surely you were. He said that the lotion in the hotel bathroom would do just fine. 

Text from Husband: "Yes, it is ok. We have not done that, and I have long wanted to, but you were reluctant and asked me not to. You might inform him that he is being accorded a special privilege. Luv u xxx"

Husband: Wow, so now she is willing to let him do what she never wanted to do with me. I think that I have lost and that it is all over. I would remind her about the HIV virus and condoms and so on, but think that my advice would not be welcome. What will happen will happen. And perhaps I won't see her much anymore, if at all. And do I care? Well, dammit, yes I do care. I care a lot. So, ...

Additional Text from Husband: "But dear, do insist on a condom. Anal intercourse is the sex act most likely to transmit the HIV virus and AIDS. Sorry to be worry wart. Luv u xxx."

Text from Wife, a while later: "Now I have been fucked in the ass! OMG, that was wonderful. I had no idea. A little pain at first, then pleasure at an intense level, and then at a really intense level! And then, absolute ecstasy! He said that he felt like a bridegroom, being privileged to be the first. And yes, he did use a condom. OMG, that was wonderful! Luv u xxx."

Wife's Thoughts: Where has that been all my life? Once he was all the way into my ass, he reached around and did wonders with my clitoris and I felt like several atom bombs went off in my belly. Why were we never told about this as part of the birds-and-bees talks?

Additional Text from Wife: "OMG, he wants to do it again! Should I? Luv u xxx."

Wife's Thoughts: Well, the truth of the matter is that I told him I had to have it again. He wasn't sure he could get it up again, but thank heavens he did, and now I am quivering to receive him again. In fact, he is pushing his penis up me right now, even as I text my husband.

Text from Husband: "Yes, definitely. Remember every detail so that you can tell me. This is your night. Live out your fantasy, all parts of it. You have my full support in doing everything that you want to do. Now I am really horny. I can't wait for you to come home so that I can fuck you silly, although I know you might be sore, and if so, I will respect that. Luv u xxx."

Husband's Thoughts: OMG, how does he do it so many times in a few hours time? I have never managed to fuck four times in three or four hours in my whole life. Does he really have that much more cum than I have? No mystery about which of the two of us that she will prefer.

Text from Wife: "And, unbelievably, I have just been fucked again! OMG, I have been fucked four times during one evening. I am full of more cum than ever before in my life! Tons of it dripping and running out. I have loved it, it has been wonderful. He has called a taxi for me. I will be home soon. Luv u xxx."

Wife's Thoughts: Well, he did call a taxi for me, so he is not planning to carry me off tonight, although there is no way that I would resist if he did try. I guess I am going home after all. He said that he had to get home to his wife and family, and that this had been a wonderful adventure. He said that he came to town regularly, and asked if he could see me again. I said, "You are married? You have children?" He answered me, "Oh yes, happily married and with three wonderful children, would you like to see pictures of my wife and children? I would like to see pictures of yours - you do of course have on a wedding ring." 

This time the atom bombs went off in my heart and head instead of my lower belly. I was devastated, this evening had never held the threat or promise of a new life, it had just been a night out. I told him that we could never see each other again, that this had just been a wild, one-time adventure and that it was over. I told him this partly hoping that it would hurt him as much as I was hurting, but I do not think it hurt him at all: he was looking forward to returning to his wife and children after having a fine time while on a business trip. Would I ever be able to return home to my husband in any real sense of returning, or was all of that lost forever? How I act with my husband upon returning home will determine my future. I must get my head on straight and try to return to normalcy. Can I? Should I?




A Cautionary Tale



At home, the Husband: I hugged her as she came in the front door, and complimented her on being my erotically adventurous girl and asked her to tell me all about it. My heart was breaking.

Can things ever be the same again? Probably not, so how will things be? I guess the best idea is to pretend that things are normal and try to act like we have always acted with each other. And that I wanted to fuck her silly required no pretending, I did and do want to fuck her silly.

She said that he asked if he could see her again the next time he came to town on business. She said that she told him no, definitely not, that she was a happily married woman, acting out a long-standing fantasy with her husband's permission, and that that would never happen again. She said that he said that he understood, and that they kissed goodnight and he put her in the taxi and paid the driver.

At home, the Wife: To tell him how it really ended would be too devastating to my self respect, that I had fallen head over heels in love in the course of one evening, and that for him it had just been a brief, pleasant diversion. If he contacted me, he would have me; I would meet him anytime, anywhere, but he does not even know my last name or my address or telephone number. I suppose that I should thank heavens for that, as it is unlikely that I will ever hear from him again. If I did, my heels would be round. I must never, ever go to that hotel lounge or hotel again; never, ever.

At home, the Husband: I told her that I wanted to hear everything in detail, and indeed wish we had pictures. I said that I really wanted to make love, but that if she was sore I would understand. She said she wanted to make love whether she was sore or not, and we went to bed. The remainder of the night was very good indeed. So were the following weeks, as we both were hornier than we had ever been before, and acted on our feelings of horniness time and time and time again. It was great. Our sex life was at a whole new and different level.

Will I ever feel the same again? I feel totally humiliated and outshone, and will probably feel this way for the rest of my life. But I must keep up a front. If she knew how I really felt about all this, she would probably reject and leave me for being a weakling. But then, do I really want to keep her? I am not really sure that I do. But on with day-to-day life; perhaps time does take the edge off feelings. I hope so. And, this is the best sex that we have ever had. I don't think it is love or love-making anymore, it's just sex, although it's great sex, but it could be with anybody.

She said that she assumed that now we would act on my fantasy, and I said no, not necessarily, let's take it one day at a time. It will only ever happen if everything falls into place perfectly, and it may never happen. And if it does not, that will be ok.

At home, the Wife: Will he now decide that I am a soiled and tawdry slut who has betrayed him, even though he cannot really know how thoroughly I did betray him in my own mind and heart? Will he now find another woman or women and possibly feel about one of them the way I felt about that man tonight? Do I really care? Would I rather be free to seek more experiences like tonight? Would I be able to do so in any case? It will not be that long until I am thirty-nine, and then forty, and then . . . . Was this first fling of my life also my last fling due to increasing age?

At home, the Husband: Well, my fantasy is out the door once and for all. There is no way that I could stand watching another man fuck my wife after this. No, no way. Should I think up another fantasy? I would probably be wiser to explore the real prospects with some of the attractive young women at work. Well, I will think about that tomorrow. For now, back to fucking my wife in the ass; it really is great, much, much better than vaginal sex. Must remember to always reach around and bring her off, and to make more occasions for finding her g-spot, which really does send her up. I suppose that life could be worse, sexually at least, it's just that love is no longer part of it. Perhaps it will come back? I feel that it will not. Well, good sex is better than nothing, at least for a while. 

And so it goes.