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The Biker Ch. 01

By: SandraMustard



[ This story is from my personal experiences. It began in November 2013.

The Biker Ch. 01 - Watching an exhibitionist masturbate.

(If you think you've read this story before, the first two chapters appeared briefly in a thread on the Fetish & Sexuality Central forum. New material begins in chapter 3.)

(c) SandraMustard 2014 ]

Living in a warm climate that allows outdoor activities year-round, my husband and I love to ride our bikes, sometimes 4-5 times in a single week. Usually we're together but maybe one time in twenty, I'm by myself. There are bike trails, parks, and even a conservatory that give us many options.

We encounter a lot of other riders, walkers, and joggers. We have begun to recognize some of the regulars because either we see them so often or they have some identifiable trait. Which brings me to the biker I have nicknamed Captain America because of the red, white, and blue clothing he always wears. His helmet is also patriotic in its coloring. He often wears dark blue or bright red biker leggings, the tight ones made of Lycra, although he has worn some other type of loose shorts on occasion. He is a very trim young man, probably in his early twenties. I have seen him going the other way and been passed by him.

After he passes, I have seen his cute buttocks flexing inside the tight fabric just in front of me. My thoughts are usually unladylike. Meeting him head on, I've noticed his tight leggings stretched across his groin, showing the outline of his cock as he pedals (that's why they're called banana seats, right?) On one solo ride, I saw him standing along the trail, water bottle in hand. As I drew near, he lifted the bottle to his mouth and leaned back as he drank. His posture thrust his hips forward and his cock pressed outward, its helmet ridge well defined as he faced the early morning sun. I stopped pedaling and looked at his crotch as I coasted by.

Last November, I went out alone for a late morning ride. After several miles, Captain America went past and offered a cheery greeting. I responded and ogled his cute butt. Even though he wore loose shorts, his posture still pulled them tight across his ass. I pedaled faster and managed to pace him for a while; he may not have been going as fast as he usually does.

When we entered the conservatory, he turned off and stopped at the bathrooms while I continued my regular route. I made my customary stop at a bench to drink some water and rested for perhaps ten minutes, checking my phone for messages. Eventually I resumed my ride. I came to another rest bench at a trail junction. I saw someone sitting there and soon recognized the red, white, and blue jersey; Captain America had come the other way around the circular trail. On a hunch, I decided to make another stop on the pretense of taking a drink and looking at the trail map posted there.

I kept my head facing down the trail as I came to a stop about ten feet in front of him but I was peeking over at him behind my sunglasses. He was sitting with his legs spread open, a fleshy object visible inside the loose left leg opening of his shorts. I played a game with him. I kept my apparent vision in other directions as I dismounted and fussed with my bike. I watched him. His fidgety moves suggested he was nervous. His hand checked his shorts and tugged them back a little more. I took a drink from my water bottle ... and slowing turned to face him.

I made it obvious that I spotted his cock. I stopped in mid-swallow; then lowered the bottle to look straight at his crotch. I let my mouth open in faux surprise. He turned his head sideways to look back up the trail, pretending he didn't know what I could see. His dick couldn't pretend. Slowly his glans stretched out into the sunshine and lifted off the bench.

I stared. He looked at me then looked away again, this time the other direction. His cock, swelled to a beautiful full erection, was sticking out several inches and beginning to angle upward. I couldn't prevent a big smile that showed my enjoyment any longer. I put my water bottle back in its holder and walked toward the bench.

Captain America looked terrified that I would approach so close. He even closed his legs but the three inches of cock lying outside his shorts and against his thigh was still visible. I stood over him looking at the map behind his shoulders. I realized I could hear his short panting breaths. He was getting excited and I decided that I wanted to watch him cum if I could.

I removed my sunglasses and peered closely at the map. When I straightened, I looked down at him looking up at me. I let him see my eyes drift to his exposed cock and linger. I smiled purposefully yet he seemed frozen, unable to act. I tried talking to him. "I just love this place. Have you ever ridden completely around it? There's so much to see."

"The sand is too soft and deep for the thin tires on my bike." He either missed or ignored my innuendo. His voice was higher pitched than when he offered greetings on the trail. He was so nervous, I feared he was going to take off. I had worries too that this man with his cock sticking out could grab me; a quick twitch would have made me jump out of my skin.

We both heard the sound of a small engine approaching. I watched him reach down to tug his shorts over his cock. A ranger drove by in his four-wheeler, waving hello at us before heading away. To give us both some space, I walked back to my bike and moved a few feet into the trail intersection. I could see all four directions and the ranger almost reaching a distant bend.

I turned to see the young man standing now; the view from his side let me see his cock lifting out against the front of his shorts. An impulse suggested it was now or never. "You have a beautiful cock. I haven't seen a young one like yours in a long time. Would you consider jerking off for me?"

"Really? Do you really want me to?" I nodded. "Do you want to help?"

"No, I'll just watch from here." He sat down on the bench and reached up the leg of his shorts. "No, stand up, please. Drop your shorts so I can see everything. No one is coming." I glanced in all directions to demonstrate my vantage point.

He not only dropped his shorts but pulled his jersey off, too. My heart began to race as I looked at this naked young man with zero-percent body-fat standing like Adonis in front of me. He had no body hair except his armpits and pubes, and a six-pack abdomen. His cock was probably eight inches when fully hard. He made the most of his opportunity with a willing observer. He pumped with dramatic strokes. A bit of pre-cum dripped off his cock, catching sunlight like spider silk. My own juices wetted my sex as I imagined his sturdy member sliding into me. With a pronounced groan, he arched his back and spewed his seed through the air. He staggered back as more spurts gushed out, finally collapsing onto the bench.

"Wow! That was great! You really made my day." I left hastily, afraid of being alone with the naked man.

I told my husband about the encounter. He suggested I should have helped him stroke! When I admitted my carnal thoughts, he said, "I bet you'd still be smiling." Did my hall pass mean I should jump on any cock I see? No, not just any cock I see, but yes, any cock I wanted.

The Biker Ch. 02



[ This story series is from my personal experiences. It began in November 2013.

The Biker Ch. 02 - "Meet me at the same place."

(If you think you've read this story before, the first two chapters appeared briefly in a thread on the Fetish & Sexuality Central forum. New material begins in chapter 3.)

© SandraMustard 2014 ]

Because I had seen the masturbating biker often enough before the incident to nickname him, I expected to see him again eventually. How would he act? How would I? My husband was encouraging me to enjoy another man; he thought Captain America was an obvious choice. The image of his long cock erupting was burned into my memory. Honestly, the idea of it fucking me was exciting to contemplate.

More than two weeks passed before I saw the Captain again. I was riding single file behind my husband when I recognized his clothing coming toward us. His hand covered his crotch until he passed my husband and then it lifted. I had a clear, two-second glimpse of his cock hanging out his loose shorts. I looked back over my shoulder to see him doing the same. Did he recognize me? Before or after hanging his dick out for the flash? Too bad he was heading for the trail end where we started.

When I rode alongside my husband, he asked, "He flashed you, didn't he?" He recognized the technique he has used himself. He knew who it was, too. "I think you're going to get another chance with him someday."

We rode the remaining four miles to the conservatory, discussing the usual wide range of topics but not Captain America. We stopped at the service building to take a quick bathroom break. When I came out, there he was standing with his bike over at the map board. I'm a butt-woman and his round cheeks on his lean body was too sexy to ignore. Instantly, I decided I would test my husband by demonstrating in front of him, what he wanted me to do. I had to be careful with other people around the parking lot.

I strode swiftly over to the map board; my husband angled toward our bikes. I sidled over rather close to Captain America. While pointing to something on the map, I asked a question; but the young man looked down instead. He couldn't believe my other hand had five fingertips on his cock bulge. I tugged on his cock and repeated, "Will you meet me at the same place?"

His eyes glanced nervously over at my large husband. Some thought assured him. "Sure." He stepped away, mounted his bike, and entered a trail.

We rode our normal circle route, headed in a different direction. Because hubby asked what I planned, I gave him bold truths. "You told me to go for it. Well, you're gonna see just that. You can't change your mind now. We're gonna meet and you'll find out what the 'it' is the same time I do."

My husband had been my guardian, watching me expose myself, and had watched me fellate two friends early in our marriage. I thought him watching me with the Captain would be okay, even if for some reason I went all the way. We didn't stop as we normally do where our inner circle route turns off the perimeter trail, anxious to press on. As we neared the rendezvous and the brush thinned, I saw the colored jersey of Captain America waiting. We rode up to the trail crossing and dismounted. The lad was sitting reclined against the map board. His hips slouched forward; his legs angled open; on his slender hips, his shorts laid loosely over his significant bulge.

I took my water bottle and plopped on the bench next to him. My hand fell casually onto his leg and my fingers hung over onto his inner thigh, obviously close to the opening of his shorts. He looked at my husband 25 feet away.

"What's he gonna do?"

"Be a lookout. Probably watch. He asked me to do this." My hand inched higher up his leg and inside his shorts until I had two fingers around his glans. His inhale hissed through his teeth. His hips squirmed away from my hand. I sensed his anxiety. On the other hand, I felt bold and confident.

I pulled my shirt over my head and then removed my bra. He looked at my saggy breasts and I felt out of place with this trim athlete. I pulled his hand up to one breast then pulled his head down to the other. He didn't need further encouragement. While he sucked and tweaked my nipples, my fingers again went up the leg of his shorts. Almost immediately, I had him stretching out beyond the fabric. His cock was binding on his shorts. He didn't object when I knelt in front of him and pulled his shorts off.

I hate to use sensationalism with a big cock claim but he was at least two inches longer than my husband is. On his skinny frame, it looked like a monster. I put two hands around him and slapped his glans against my hanging boobs. I looked down at the squinty-eyed helmet before dropping my mouth and swallowing his head.

My husband was off my rear quarter but my body partially blocked his view. I heard the crunch of his footsteps when he moved to watch side-on. I tilted my head without missing a bob to see him watching me intently, his hand crammed in his shorts. He didn't look upset. When I looked again later, he had his cock out and was stroking it. Two cocks enjoying one blowjob. Does that count as a DP?

I put a lot of effort into exciting him, wishing I had learned more tricks. I could barely get half of him in my mouth so my hands had plenty to play with. My tongue played with the helmet ridge and the soft underside. I huffed hot air over him.

My pussy had reached a readiness for intercourse and I pondered straddling him or turning around to sit. Without a warning cry, I had a fountain gushing fluid in my mouth. I swallowed to make room for more. Second and third swallows cleared my mouth to lick the last dribbles of man-cream off his cone.

So much for finding a penis to satisfy me. I felt left out, even a bit used by a couple of real dicks. He seemed anxious to put his clothes on, so I did too. Lucky we did. My husband's voyeurism left his sentry duties woefully derelict, only now realizing three bikers were fast approaching. The riders passed uneventfully, oblivious to the nature of the scene. While I drank water to rinse the last of the tadpoles down my throat, he talked to me.

He was incredulous over the blowjob, claiming it was the first he ever received. He also claimed to be a virgin and wondered if he could fuck me. Oh, that approach is not going to work, kid. I was already glad I hadn't broken his bronco. I had deflowered my quota of men forty-some years ago. Later, I came to the belief that he wasn't being truthful with me. All I gained was a realization that I could want sex with another man and that my husband actually wanted me to.

I had other pressing problems, an achingly empty pussy and two limp dicks. I hurried my husband home. After a shower, we went to bed ... at 11:30 in the morning. He gave me several oral delights and even climbed into my saddle for a brief ride but there would be no ride into the sunset for the old cowboy and cowgirl.



The Biker Ch. 03



This story series is from my personal experiences. It began in November 2013.

*****

A cock too beautiful to resist. 

More than six months had passed since I last saw Captain America on the bike trails. I haven't been riding much in the heat of summer and then only twice on the trails. Working my part-time job and spending whole days on the beach with my husband has occupied most of my time. Then there are the other 'activities' we have begun having. However, a recent confluence of conditions caused the patriotic biker's path to cross with mine again.

The beach has its own weather here. For four months, the temperature varies day to day by only a degree or two and the ocean keeps the humidity high. Temps reach the nineties every day and the 'Feels Like' can be 105° - 115°. Onshore breezes and intense sunlight cook up daily thunderstorms that drift around but mostly inland, away from us. We'll have a squall hit us about once a week while just 25 miles inland gets rain every afternoon. Bike riding on the trails takes two to three hours so even morning rides are difficult to endure.

I had a mid-week day off. My husband chose to use the car that day to look for a part-time job. The morning air felt less oppressive so I checked the weather forecast. With a high expected in the mid-eighties, the morning cool would last longer so I opted to ride my bicycle on the trails.

I didn't choose to ride, hoping to encounter Captain America. He wasn't even in my thoughts until I saw him riding towards me. We both had big grins and exchanged morning greetings in passing. He must have made up his mind in mere seconds. He turned around and caught up to me within one hundred yards.

"Can I ride with you?"

He didn't mean it sexually. Neither did he word it in any way that could be taken sexually; but I imagined him inviting me to ride his cock. "Sure, I'd love to ride you." My slip of the tongue betrayed my lurid thoughts. Did he catch what I accidently said?

"Great." His ambiguous response let me off the hook. As we rode, we spoke about general things, ignoring that I have watched him masturbate twice and sucked him off once. I had a feeling that I was going to see his beautiful young cock again.

Every time I looked at him, my eyes were drawn his crotch as he pedaled. His cock was easily discernable in his bright red Lycra leggings, stretching out forward, held up by his seat-horn. He caught me looking several times but it didn't deter me. We rode past the conservatory service building with a single vehicle in the parking lot and onto the perimeter trail. Heading for our favorite resting bench, I already had more than seeing his manhood on my mind. When he turned off onto the inner circle trail ahead of me, I knew he had the same destination planned.

We stopped at the junction where I first watched him. After dismounting, he turned toward me and I saw his cock straining against his leggings. "Have you got a hard-on already? What turned you on?"

"You. The way you look at me."

"Oh, I'm sure! This old lady looking at your package is too exciting to resist, huh? How old are you again?"

"Twenty-three. You're NOT old and you're sexier than the girls I know. I jerk-off all the time remembering your mouth on my cock." It's nice to know I made such an impression.

"Do you realize I'm forty years older than you? You'd be a feather in my cap but you should be chasing chicks your own age."

He didn't answer, probably because I had placed my hand on his bulging groin. Before I talked him completely out of playing games with me, I figured I would see what enjoyment he could offer me. I dropped to my knees in front of him. He offered no resistance when I pulled his leggings down to his ankles. Once freed, his stiff cock swung upward, catapulting a drop of pre-cum onto my cheek.

His cock arced up and out toward my face. I was again amazed at his length. "How big are you?"

His answer suggested he was guessing or didn't know how to measure correctly. I didn't believe he was ten inches. It's not that I've suddenly turned into a size-queen but I wanted a reference point. I carry a number of handy items in my bike bag but not a tape measure. Holding an adjustable wrench alongside his penis, it ended a half-inch short of his circumcised glans. I noted his approximate additional length against my finger. (Later, the wrench measured 6 1/2 inches; the additional length about 2 inches.) Granted, on his 140 pound, 5'7" frame, it did look ten inches.

Captain America obviously enjoyed my handling of his manhood as it bounced for joy, as if beckoning my face closer. I imagined he wanted more memories of my mouth to jerk-off to but I noticed things that killed fellatio's appeal for me. Sweat glistened on his skin and soaked his pubes. My nose was close enough to detect rancid crotch odors, too. I could have rinsed him off with my water bottle but my vagina was urging me to feel the sturdy young cock in a mutually enjoyable way. I also realized, this might be my last encounter with him.

I helped him step out of his leggings without taking off his shoes and then led him to the map board bench. After I removed his jersey, he started undressing me. His hands trembled and he struggled briefly unhooking my bra, but I let him learn how to do it. I figured that if my flabby old body didn't scare his erection away, I would have a new fuck-buddy, if only for a day. When he had me naked too, he sat down and tried to pull me onto his lap, but I resisted and stood in front of him.

"Hold on there, buckaroo," I told him. Sweaty from cycling and gritty with trail dust, I didn't expect or want foreplay but we had some issues to clarify first.

"Are you still a virgin?" Whether he was more honest this time or had acquired some experience since I gave him the blowjob, he told me he wasn't a virgin. He said he had been with a middle-aged woman and twice with a girl he's known for years. That was a relief. The onus to provide a memorable first experience was off my shoulders.

I looked down at the fit young man with a cock too beautiful to resist. "Look at you. Any girl who looks at your proud cock would be anxious to take you on. Look at me. Saggy boobs, flabby belly, and wrinkles galore. Are you sure you'd rather fuck this old lady?" He silently nodded, perhaps afraid his words wouldn't sound convincing. His erection nodded affirmation, too.

"Do you have protection?" It seemed like a long shot to expect a man on his bike to carry condoms but one never knows. He didn't and his facial expression hinted that he believed his carnal opportunity had disappeared. When we had our oral encounter, I was contemplating fucking him without a thought about safe sex. Only his quick orgasm in my mouth made it a non-issue. At that time, I didn't have any extra-marital experience. Since then, all my partners have used condoms, and now I always consider my need to be safe. Just as an athlete needs proper equipment, a player needs protection.

I walked over to my bike bag to grab my most handy item. Woody bought me some to carry in the car, in my purse, and yes, even in my bike bag. Captain America looked incredulous as I opened the packet and began to roll the condom on him. When I had him suited up, I backed over his lap. Guiding his sex-stalk into me, I settled down as he groaned with delight. I was self-lubricated and ready as ever but I seemed to bottom out on only half his cock.

Not be denied, I rose up and wiggled back down, then again, and again. One of his hands grabbed my breast and twisted its nipple. His other hand dug in my slit to rub my clit. Well, at least he knew about doing that. His sturdy pole pushed deeper. The nerves inside me reveled from his surging manhood and stoked my passion fires. Steady progress gained his tool inch by inch.

My orgasms are always quick to respond to good sex and I was delighted to fuck this young man. I felt passion's fires building in my womb and waves of bliss surging through my body. Just as the first crest of joy broke inside me, Captain America cried out; I felt his cock jerking inside me. "No! Not yet, baby! You can't be done!" He was.

He stopped bucking, leaving me to coast down from a mediocre single orgasm. He knew he had let me down. "I'm sorry, Sandy. I don't know how to stop it from happening so soon. Can you ... teach me?"

His request had heady implications for an older woman. My disappointment was immediately replaced by thoughts of energetic practice sessions and stimulating rewards for me. I felt honored to be asked. I already had a plan to get him hard again for round two. I had much I could teach him but the conservatory was a poor classroom location so where else we might meet could be a problem.

I went to my bike bag again to collect my water bottle, a small towel, and my last condom. As I headed back to the bench, I told my student, "Take your condom off." When I saw him pull it off and make a move to toss it into the bushes, I warned him, "Don't you dare litter this fine place! I won't let you leave that to gross somebody out or have a critter choke on it. I'll give you a baggie to take our trash to a garbage can." Obediently, he dropped the gooey rubber on the ground nearby.

I dampened the towel and sat next to him to clean up his slimy cock. As I tended to his member, I told him my thoughts. "I'm not sure I want to get that involved with you but I'll think about it. This isn't the right kinda place to learn about intimacy so there'd be a bunch of things we'd have to work out. In the meantime, you should be able to go again soon and last longer just because you already came once."

Even flaccid, his cock was a good six inches long. In the vernacular, he was a show-er, not a grower. Watching me wash his cock, wrapping the towel around it, and pulling along its length, must have given him visual and tactile stimulation because I could feel him firming up. I completed his arousal with my mouth. His lengthy cock dispelled my aversion to feeling hair in my mouth because my lips didn't reach the bristly end of his shaft. When he was fully erect again, I put another condom on him.

I had him stand behind me as I bent over with my hands on the bench for support. His short stature had another advantage; his cock was at the same height as my vagina. I made sure he knew I didn't want anal but let him find my opening. Still aroused myself, I was probably gaping open. He slid in easily ... and deep.

"Go slow and steady. Try to ignore what you feel. Concentrate on how I'm reacting to do what pleases me. Being a patient lover will boost your ego and you'll still have your own orgasm."

He was a quick study. His cock felt divine inside me. Its long length made his thrusts deliciously prolonged with plenty of rubbing on my G-spot. The result was a glorious build up to a powerful release.

"Ooh, baby, that's the way. You're getting me good. Ooh yeah. Ooh yeah!" I was worried that my encouragements would blow him off the game plan but he kept steadily pumping his cock deep into me, even slowing down to make we wiggle and moan. My vocal noises and body movements demonstrated to him the extent of my pleasure. I believe he recognized the lesson I had just given him.

"That was good, huh?" I could hear it in his voice how pleased he was with himself.

"Wonderful, baby, but don't stop. I can come again and again. Each one will get stronger. You're doing great, honey. Give me that beautiful, hard cock. Fuck me, ooh yeah, fuck me good!"

He drove me to strengthening climaxes with slight increases in tempo and powerful thrusts that jammed against the end of my vagina. We were so engrossed in our copulation that neither of us noticed the approaching cyclists until a man's voice made us jerk in surprise.

"Look honey, I told you there was wildlife here."

"Don't even think about stopping to watch," the woman warned her companion.

Despite our reflexive reaction, we maintained our fucking rhythm. I've already had several experiences fucking with an audience. I was glad to see Captain America didn't care that strangers saw his nudity or our carnal activity. Other than his backside, they couldn't see enough to recognize us or realize our age difference. I peeked over my shoulder as they rode on to see the woman looking back at us with a smile.

His groin started making slapping noises against my ass as he plunged into me faster and harder. I was climbing to my fifth orgasm when he warned me, "I can't hold it any longer!"

"Go for it, baby. You earned this one."

My vagina was awash with excitement. My orgasm broke with a ferocity that made my arms collapse to my elbows, tilting my ass up for his onslaught. We matched cries of passion during our simultaneous climax. He stopped balls deep in me, leaning on my ass as he gasped for air. A spasm of my vagina clenched his cock.

"I feel that."

I giggled. "That's my pussy thanking your dick for the nice time."

He chuckled as we uncoupled and sat wearily on the bench. "That was awesome to see you come. I could feel you coming, too. You were right, I feel great knowing I could do that to you."

I gave him positive feedback to build on his experience. During a short conversation, he confessed that his three previous experiences paled in comparison. The woman had been extremely intoxicated and actually passed out without an orgasm and before he came. The girl, only twenty years-old, was inexperienced. He was certain now that she didn't orgasm either time during their short copulations. I suggested that he try his new techniques on her. I also admonished him to be a responsible partner by wearing a condom for both disease and birth control.

After cleaning us both up with my damp towel, I used a doggie-poop bag I had to collect the used condoms and wrappers. He offered to take them to a garbage receptacle but I mentioned that I was going to show them to my husband.

"He's okay with you having sex with me?"

"He started out giving me permission to get satisfaction with others that he had trouble providing. He's getting better lately but enjoys knowing I have other partners. He even watches and joins in sometimes. He has fucked other women too. We're into all kinds of threesomes and swinging now. I'm not going to bring you into that just yet. He's very homophobic so don't worry about any sexual contact with him other than maybe with me in the middle."

Before we parted, I wrote down his cell number and email address so I could contact him about further 'lessons'. The twelve-mile ride home was difficult. My labia were sensitive making my bicycle seat rubbing on me as I pedaled very uncomfortable. My legs were quite rubbery too.

I returned to an empty home. I showered and took a nap. Woody let me sleep until he prepared an early supper of salmon with a tasty dill sauce he concocted. He grinned ear to ear when I showed him the condoms after we ate. We stepped outside to smoke some pot. (Yes, I'm into doing that again. He never stopped but I went almost a dozen years without. Now that I rediscovered making love under its influence and the effect of my enthusiastic responses on his libido, we toke several times a week now.)

Enthusiastic is too mild to describe my reaction to what he did to me that evening. He was incredible with his tongue and durable enough to finish strongly with his cock.



The Biker Ch. 04



 [ This story series describes my personal experiences with a young bicyclist. It began in November 2013. My husband and I have an open marriage. He is aware of my sexual encounters with this young man and watched me fellate him. The cyclist was twenty-two when I first met him, and he is a beautiful specimen of the male gender. I am forty years older; an old woman with flab, wrinkles, and saggy boobs. These are real life encounters. I don't falsify my appearance or pretend sex outcomes are perfect.

The Biker Ch. 04 - Schooling the young stud begins.

© SandraMustard 2014 ] 

Captain America entered my thoughts often. How could I forget his sturdy young cock fucking me? The pleasant memories always fostered desires to ride him again and I would imagine the circumstances required to make that happen. Sometimes I scolded myself, 'You have no business having sex with someone so young. He's young enough to be your grandson.' Yet, I always rationalized that he was an adult. If he wanted me and I had permission to enjoy him, why not?

My first email to him went unanswered for four days. I began to suspect he was shagging his young girlfriend and had no further use for my aged pussy. I couldn't fault him for that. Neither could I fault myself for teaching him how to make better use of nature's blessing. It wasn't until I sent a text that I discovered he doesn't check his email. I don't think I've used email for ten years yet; is such technology passé already?

During our first long conversation, I explained that I was willing to teach him what I know about fucking. I didn't say I knew a lot, but I knew more than he did. Premature ejaculation is something I knew nothing about but I figured I'd have fun trying to cure him. I made it clear that although we would engage in more than lustful fornication, I did not consider the arrangement as an affair. When we achieved the goals we intended, our encounters could cease.

I established our communication rules first thing. We would text only to prompt phone calls. I didn't want an explicit text to appear while my grandchildren played with my phone or have a slip of the finger send one to the wrong person. For similar reasons, emails would not have been a good idea after all.

Captain America lived at home with his mother. I figured that even if she allowed her adult son to entertain women in his bedroom, one older than her would likely cause problems. I could invite him to my bedroom but I did not want him overly distracted by my husband's presence in another room. Lessons about threesomes would happen much later in the curriculum schedule I planned so we would have to use a neutral site.

Getting a motel room turned out to be no problem for Lance, (not his real name but a clever alias that I will use for the cyclist.) He worked as the night operations manager at a restaurant that was part of an elaborate resort complex. He had sufficient income to afford a room, even after paying rent (good for you, Mom) and owning a car. Because of employee discounts, he would pay less than an economy motel rate for a high-rise room right on the beach. We compared our work schedules to find a mutually free night and made a date.

Our tryst would be very much like a date. We planned to eat at his restaurant, too. Our cover story would be that I am a visiting relative; he would introduce me as his grandaunt. In public, we wouldn't display any amorous actions and our conversations would be typical for distant relatives. Because I was 'family,' he could comp our entire meal.

I made sure he understood his responsibilities for safe sex. I suggested he buy a sufficient quantity that didn't limit how many lessons we covered. What wasn't used our first night would not be wasted. He hesitated to ask a pointed question until I convinced him to be completely candid. Should he masturbate just before we met to avoid premature ejaculation? I told him no; learning to control his first orgasm was a major objective.

When we discussed what libations we would enjoy in the room, we settled on his preference for simple beer for him and White Zinfandel for me. On his own, he had a cheese & cracker platter delivered ahead to the room and purchased a box of chocolate covered strawberries for us to snack on.

The last planning involved my husband. He was all for me fucking the biker again but didn't like the idea of sitting at home waiting for me because we knew I could pull an all-nighter. The problem solved itself when our new friends Dave, Cindy, and their niece Barbie invited him over to their place. I've been covering the developments of our games with them in another story series so I won't complicate this chapter with details about what their collective activities involved. Suffice it to say, they served his libido well that night too.

When I prepared for my date night with Lance, butterflies danced in my stomach as if I was eighteen again. Wanting to make our intimacy more refined than the chance, outdoor, sexual encounters we had previously, I prettied myself extensively. I trimmed my pubes, shaved my legs and armpits twice, and douched. Adding waves to my hair with a curling iron, I applied makeup and wore my Juicy perfume. I dressed in a conservative calf-length gown for our public encounter but put a lacey nightgown, crotch-less panties, and flavored warming-gel in an overnight bag.

Jack was preparing for his night out at the same time. When he was ready and waiting, he went outside to toke-up, but I chose not to partake. I had to drive while he only had to walk a short distance. Besides wanting a clear head, I worried I might succumb to my husband's playful caresses and stand up my young lover.

I called Lance when I was on my way and he was waiting when I walked into the restaurant. He greeted me with a light-contact hug and I kissed him on his cheek, detecting a light manly fragrance during the exchange, one that didn't compete with my perfume. The hostess led us to our table immediately and I sensed the resentful stares of the people still waiting to be seated. I learned that the meal would cost him nothing so I indulged in the Surf and Turf. Despite ordering petite portions, I savored the delicacies sparingly so I wouldn't be uncomfortable in bed. Lance ate like an athlete mindful of his carbs and caloric intake, ordering chicken and vegetables but not potatoes or pasta.

We had a secluded booth in the corner but we did not attempt any risqué behavior and minded our voice levels while talking. Exchanging some light patter, we learned about our families and backgrounds. Lance had worked as a waiter and assistant manager at the restaurant while getting his degree in business management. They promoted him to his current position when he graduated two years ago. He loved the restaurant business and hoped to open his own place in the future.

Lance did not act impatient to go to our room. He ordered me a second glass of wine to sip while we talked but switched his beer to ice water. When we left the restaurant, there was no check presented to him but he left a thirty-dollar tip for the server. We stopped at my car to get my overnight bag that he carried for me, and then we went straight to the elevators without checking in.

I was a little tipsy from the wine, which made me fall against him when the elevator lurched to begin its ascent. His arm went around my waist to steady me. Briefly gazing into my eyes, his head leaned close and he kissed me with heavy tongue action. I broke off the kiss and mentioned that his energetic tongue was more appropriate for heated passion than setting a romantic mood. When we arrived at the twentieth floor, we resumed our separation while walking the corridor.

Seeing the king size bed in the elegantly furnished room caused excitement to shiver through me just as his arm went around my waist again. He turned me in front of him and put both arms behind me to hold me gently against his chest. I could feel his early readiness but I didn't sense any intent on his part to rush.

"Your perfume is lovely, Sandy. I kept getting hints of it at the table and now I'm enjoying the full essence of it. What's it called?"

"Juicy," I said as I tilted my head to allow his closer.

"Mmmmm," he hummed while nuzzling my neck. His lips brushed along my skin to my earlobe. "It makes my mouth water," he said as we straightened and engaged me in a long, tender kiss. I had worried that I would have to tame a wild young buck ready to rut but found instead a student eager to learn amour.

When he released me, I told him I wanted to check out the balcony. Sliding open the glass door, we stepped out together. The sun had set while we dined, leaving only a slight afterglow on the horizon to our right. Blackness hid the ocean except for the ghostly foam of the breakers far below. The angled wings of the hotel towers funneled the gentle sound of surf up to us; a warm breeze, scented by the salty sea, caressed my nose and tickled my skin. I enjoyed the romantic setting for long minutes while he stood behind me, his arms encircling me.

Was he enjoying the atmosphere as well? Was I savoring these tender moments too much? I had permission to have sex with other men to satisfy physical urges with my body. By enjoying romantic influences with my mind, was I being emotionally unfaithful to my husband?

I pulled away and told him I wanted to get undressed, using the bathroom to change into my nightgown. When I came out, he was sitting on the side of the bed still clothed but with his shirt unbuttoned and his feet bare. A smile turned the corners of his mouth up when he saw me approach. The bedside lamp spotlighted a half-dozen condom packets on the nightstand. Either he was very optimistic or simply demonstrating that he took my no-limit advice to heart.

I urged him to stand up. While engaging his mouth with a kiss, my hands pushed his shirt off his shoulders. His arms remained at his sides as my hands began caressing his hairless torso, and then my mouth moved down to kiss his pecs. As I sucked on his tiny nipples, my hand opened his trousers. When they fell to the floor, I held them down with a foot so he could step out of them. My hand slid into his boxers to fondle his cock, finding him momentarily flaccid despite the prolonged stiffness he exhibited before. His cock responded so quickly to my touch that I decided to limit our foreplay before our first coitus.

When I let go of him and straightened, he took over. Pulling my body tightly to his, he kissed me with a moderate intensity that stirred my desire. Turning his upper body slightly, one hand slid up to cup my breast while the other on my ass pressed my mons against his stiff member.

My plan was to let him show me his skills and do all the work. By acting mildly responsive, I hoped to avoid feeding his excitement unnecessarily with vocal reactions and body movements. I couldn't prevent my stiff nipples and wet pussy from showing arousal but those were important clues to my readiness anyway. He lifted off my nightgown and slid off my crotch-less panties without noticing their design. Instead of embarrassment about my floppy breasts and flabby tummy, I appreciated that they presented a less alluring body. His fingers explored my vulva long enough to start my juices flowing before guiding me backward onto the bed.

Lance stepped to the nightstand two feet from my head. My gaze fell to his seriously tented boxers and then watched him shed his underwear with a gentle push of his hands. The sight of his rigid manhood angled upward made me gasp. He was an exhibitionist at heart; he smiled and turned his body so that his love-cannon pointed at my face. I watched it bob eagerly while he unwrapped and rolled on a condom.

I saw him erect before, both times while sitting. This was different. He was the whole package. I'll date myself by describing his face as looking like Frankie Avalon and his young, perfectly fit body was truly eye candy. Seeing that impressive cock sticking out from his taut abdomen makes me want to coin a new phrase, 'pussy candy.' Mesmerized, I could only think about it sliding inside me and I nearly forgot my game plan.

The spell was broken when he started to climb onto the bed. I spoke to him in a detached tone, hoping that my coaching would be a distraction. Instructing him to go slow and easy, I told him to stop at the first hint of orgasmic tingles. Suggesting that he tune out sensory input from his penis as best he could, and that he should concentrate on the mechanical pelvic motions, I didn't mention that my advice came from discussions that I had with my husband.

Lying flat on the bed, my slight paunch disappeared, giving me a clear view of his primed sperm-launcher moving up between my open legs. He kneeled in position and held up his body on one arm at my side. His free hand aimed his cock at a point below my mons and then his hips pushed forward. I felt the pressure of his manhood expanding my vaginal walls in slow motion until he hit the end of my love-cavity. I knew he had more penis to give but he eased back, half-way out. Another slithering drive filled my pussy, tickling the passion nerves inside me. The more I tried to be passive, the more acutely I felt his cock movements, and the faster excitement rose within me.

My eyes were open, watching the magnificent male specimen above me push his porn-star cock into my sex. I should have worn a blindfold to avoid the visual images doubling the exquisite genital stimulation. Within the opening minute, I lost control. My first attempt at schooling a young man failed when the student fucked his teacher into oblivion. I closed my eyes and surrendered.

I felt the heat of my passion begin boiling in my gut, and spread to every finger and toe. My body started to quiver as his cock bore deep into me and his balls slapped my labia. He stopped suddenly and held his fully buried manhood at a level that urged me to lift my hips to match him. My orgasm peaked, convulsing my body under him. I heard him chuckle as he must have sensed my bliss.

He didn't give me a chance to regain control. Before my orgasm could fully fade, he started another slow fuck that stretched my vagina until he was cramming his full eight-and-a-half inches inside. His thrusts began to slam into me with great force, sending ripples through my flesh to my head. I couldn't hold back at all. Within a very short time, my second orgasm thundered through my body. Despite my resolve to avoid showing my excitement, moans and cries of pleasure flowed out of my mouth.

He pounded me through my second orgasm and then my third. I was delirious at this point, holding onto his fucking-machine body with all my might. In such a rapturous state, I missed the clues to his building orgasm until he groaned loudly and strained to push his member into my hot flesh. I had enough momentum to have a fourth orgasm from the sensation of his throbbing cock inside me. He collapsed in a gasping heap on top of me. His body shuddered while the vaginal clenching of my ebbing climax milked the last of his semen through his tool.

He made a move to get off me, but I held him tight and explained that women like to savor the afterglow. I felt his breathing slow as he relaxed with his head in the crook of my neck. His penis relaxed too, but continued to fill me. I mentally reviewed how our passion had erupted and decided that I failed my mission. When we finally uncoupled, we began discussing our sex as if evaluating a research project.

I offered Lance an apology for my lack of self-control and failure to help him avoid premature ejaculation. He didn't understand how I could describe either of us as having failed. I tried to explain my point of view based on experiences and how I intended to respond to him. He wasn't afraid to ask questions or speak candidly about his thoughts. He had his plan for our sex, too. We both came away with new knowledge about how the opposite gender approaches sexual gratification.

He was aware of my orgasms because he could feel them. Pacing himself based on my climax indications, he sought his pleasure only after assuring mine, thus considered his performance successful. I countered by describing myself as a sexual jackrabbit, capable of quick orgasms in rapid succession, so my satisfaction was too easy to achieve. He actually came after only four minutes of intercourse; I judged that such a lack of endurance would leave many women wanting. 

His counterpoints surprised me. He accepted that sex should be mutually satisfying but didn't believe it could be quantified by time alone. Pleasure can't be measured in numbers, he insisted. Just how many orgasms should a woman have before he had his? If I was quick to orgasm, then as my partner, it was okay for him to proceed in a similar manner. He felt he could have lasted longer if I needed more time.

Lance was not happy that I wanted to hide my arousal. He wanted our sex to be natural and spontaneous. Learning self-control was his responsibility and he hoped to achieve it through mental focus. I told him that spontaneity had a place in future encounters. Fearing my intense arousal would create too much stimulation for him to control, I believed it was better to win easy victories to build his confidence. He acknowledged that my purpose had merit.

 [ Due to the length of our encounter, the discussions we had and additional sex will be published in Chapter 5. ] 



The Biker Ch. 05



This story series describes my personal experiences with a young bicyclist. It began in November 2013. My husband and I have an open marriage. He is aware of my sexual encounters with this young man and watched me fellate him. The cyclist was twenty-two when I first met him, and he is a beautiful specimen of the male gender. I am forty years older; an old woman with flab, wrinkles, and saggy boobs. These are real life encounters. I don't falsify my appearance or pretend sex outcomes are perfect. 

The Biker Ch. 05 - He likes to fuck old ladies.

Please note, I do NOT mention underage sex in this story. In conversations, the young man told of being raised my parents who were practicing nudists. My story only recounts situations and acts he described that occurred after his eighteenth birthday.

© SandraMustard 2014

*****

This chapter continues to describe an all-night sexual encounter. To recap chapter four, I agreed to help a sexually inexperienced young man learn to control his premature ejaculations. We arranged to spend the night in a hotel room. Starting with supper in a restaurant he manages, we retired to the room to have our first round of straight intercourse. After the sex, we discussed whether our efforts were successful or not.

We got out of bed to take a break. Lance tossed his condom into the wastebasket. I laughed when I thought about what the housekeeping maids must find on a regular basis. Because he registered for the room as an employee and somebody might connect him and sex with his 'grandaunt', he intended to take precautions by disposing of such evidence somewhere else when he checked out.

We showered together. He enjoyed it when I soaped him from head to toe, and from balls to glans with particular thoroughness, but he objected strongly when I tried to put a finger in his anus. I guessed he would need a lot of coaxing to try strap-on sex. He soaped me in a similar manner, completely avoiding my butt, which I discreetly cleaned when he turned away.

I put my nightgown and panties back on but he remained naked. He deliberately paraded around showing off his swinging cock to entice me but more than that, I sensed he was comfortable being nude in a woman's presence. As we sipped liquid refreshments, discussion turned to his nudity. Initially shy about admitting he purposely exposes himself, drinking beers loosed his tongue. It helped that I shared my exhibitionism experiences.

He informed me that he was raised with relaxed attitudes about clothing inside his home. His mother and father were nudists when they met and practiced the lifestyle as he grew up, even through puberty. His maternal grandmother was a nudist, too. Everyone swam in her backyard pool on her secluded property, always without swimwear.

His parents included him in annual vacations to nudist resorts, which influenced his exhibitionism. Nudist resorts vary in their tolerance of erections; some require hiding them; others consider them natural and only prohibit public sex acts. Lance's parents favored the tolerant resorts.

Attention to his anatomic fortune by females led him to enjoy displaying his penis. Few unattached young women went to the resorts and the ones that did ignored him; mature ladies, whether in the company of a partner or not, openly admired his cock. I asked if that included his mother and grandmother. He said his mom took casual glances but his grandmother gawked as much as any stranger did. Lance liked to look at women too, and with so many mature ladies showing interest in him, he developed his preference for older ages.

Outside of the resorts where being naked was the norm, he was careful how he exposed himself. When he flashed me, he took a big risk but immediately realized I liked to look. My appreciative stares turned him on. I was the first woman to watch him masturbate and he has relived memories of the experience during most of his self-pleasuring since that day.

When I told him that I stood on a hotel balcony and masturbated for a stranger watching me, he asked if he could watch me finger myself. While he sat in the chair, I stood close in front of him, running my fingers over and into my sex. He noticed my crotchless panties finally. I mentioned their purpose was mainly as a visual turn-on because in the end, they are a bother and get in the way. Before long, I slid the panties off so he could clearly watch my fingers plying my sex.

His cock rose stiffly in the air, telling me that my act was arousing him. When my excitement became too much to risk falling over, I climbed onto the bed to finish my jilling with an orgasm. Lance positioned himself between my legs to watch from inches away. Seeing his eyes studying my exposed sex so intently induced a ferocious climax that overwhelmed me quickly.

My body was still writhing from my ebbing orgasm when he asked, "Can I touch you?"

"Please do."

"Since you're not shy, I want to see what a woman has there, not just touch."

"Not only am I not shy, I assure you, I will enjoy anything you want to do to me."

I spread my legs wider to facilitate his exploration. He used both hands to open my labia and a finger to push my clitoral hood out of the way. His touch was gentle, caressing my vulva and sensitive skin nearby; his face was so close that I felt his breath. Occasionally, he probed my slit and poked into my vagina. I wish my doctor would exam me so thoroughly!

For twenty minutes, he teased me unmercifully, never quite building enough arousal to trigger an orgasm. Finally, he used a finger to gather fluids running out of my opening and used them to lubricate my clitoris. His finger massaged the button and then combined his thumb with the finger to pinch my clit. My passion exploded.

When I stopped convulsing and crying out, he spoke with awe in his voice. "You are amazing, a woman your age, enjoying sex so many different ways. I want to learn all I can from you." His eyes darted from my face to my pussy and back several times. He seemed hesitant to speak or act. I had a notion what he wanted but let him build up his courage. Eventually, he said, "I want to learn how to go down on a woman. Will you teach me?"

I gave a breathy laugh and smiled. "You will teach yourself. You know enough about where my pleasure spots are. Just start with your tongue and pay attention to my reactions."

He began in a very timid fashion, extending his tongue far past his lips to poke only its tip into my slit, seeking my clitoris. I did have to coach him extensively but he was eager to please. It wasn't long before I had him using his lips, teeth, and breath as well. I urged him to lap, push, and wiggle with his tongue. He got over his aversion to my leaking fluids enough to bury his tongue in my vagina. He paused briefly after my first orgasm but I encouraged him to keep going.

He didn't stop again no matter how roughly I treated his head. I grabbed him by the hair, locked my legs around his head, and bucked my hips savagely. Sometime after countless more orgasms, I was begging him to fuck me hard. After pausing to put on a condom, a hard fucking is what he gave me. He banged away at me for so long that my pussy got sore and I was grateful when he finally erupted.

I didn't look at the time, but I imagine it was well before midnight. Feeling exhausted, I asked him to let me rest for a few minutes; I must have fallen asleep immediately. I awoke in the middle of the night, taking a moment to figure out where I was. Lance was not in the bed, nor could I see him anywhere else in the dark room. Hearing sounds of the ocean through the open patio doors, I looked out to see moonlight silhouetting his form sitting out on the balcony.

I got up to go join him. I was about to call out to him as I approached the door but suddenly noticed his hand movements. Sitting naked in a chair, he was slowly stroking his long cock. Moonlight made his act easy for me to see. He wasn't furiously pumping, more like lovingly caressing his tool. I quickly determined that he wasn't seeking an orgasm so I went out to join him.

"Putting on a show for anybody in particular? No, don't get up."

My admonition came too late; he gathered me in his arms and hugged me. "I was thinking about you standing naked on that hotel balcony. Let's do it together right now." His hands began to pull my nightgown up.

"No, somebody might see me." I pushed his hands away and he released my gown. Because my gown had raised high enough to allow his cock to rest against my tummy, the gown fell over and hung on his manhood. His hands cupped my ass and pulled me tight to his body. I felt his stiff member sandwiched between us, his balls nestled in my pubic hairs.

"I thought exposing yourself was your style. Were you just putting me on?"

"I'll think about it." Spotting two beer bottles on the patio table, I added, "Why don't you get me a glass of wine?"

When he went inside, I looked around. The moon had risen. Instead of impenetrable darkness, the ocean and sky were separate shades of black. Ripples on the water danced with a million lunar reflections; stellar diamonds pinpointed the heavens. The balcony formed a cave open to the sea, private from the balconies around us. Because of the angled hotel wings, I could see other balconies far to the left. I spotted a shadowy form sitting in one; I could not make out whether it was a man or woman, or whether they were clothed. I removed my gown before Lance returned.

"That's more like it!" he gushed as he set my glass and another beer on the table. He filled my glass before putting the wine bottle on the table. "I'm hungry. I'm going to bring out some snacks, too," he announced before going back inside. I picked up my glass and took a long sip. Standing naked at the railing, the moon illuminated my skin. I was certain the other person could tell I was naked if he looked. The exposure aroused me with thoughts of having sex where I stood.

When he came out again with tray of crackers and a dish of chocolate covered strawberries, he hesitated before setting them down. He had to make room on the table and that is when I noticed him move an ashtray, lighter, and cigarette pack out of the way. I didn't think he smoked.

We sat in the chairs and sampled the snacks. His silence aroused my suspicions. I noticed instead of looking at my naked body, he seemed to be watching my face, waiting for ... a reaction? I looked at the cigarette pack and noticed how crumpled it was. He didn't object when I picked it up and looked inside to see three hand-rolled joints. I pulled one out, put it between my lips, and reached for the lighter.

He finally spoke. "Oh my God, you smoke pot too?"

I didn't answer as I held the first drag in my lungs. Smiling, I passed the doobie. It wasn't long before we were baked. A serious case of the munchies caused us to devour the strawberries and mindlessly attack the cheese and crackers. Our conversation topics became wide-ranging and uninhibited.

We started with a recap of his personal life. His family lived in North Carolina for most of his youth. When he was a high school junior, his father died in a car accident. He and his mother continued to live in their home until he graduated but then his mother sold the house to move close to her mother, the only extended family he knew.

Soon, we moved to intimate topics. I talked freely about my sexual experiences and the recent freedoms my husband and I shared. Lance appreciated knowing the history and reasons why I could openly have sex with him. He asked questions about what I liked about having threesomes. I acknowledged that we might invite him to our home to give him a taste of that pleasure. Homophobic fear of sexual contact with another man tempered his interest until I assured him that my husband found male bisexuality equally abhorrent.

We talked about his sexual experiences and interests again. I asked if his preference for older women included a desire to have sex with his mother or grandmother. He didn't answer but didn't deny it either, so I worked on convincing him that people have a wide range of different fetishes. I told him I wrote and enjoyed reading erotic stories. Although I didn't have an interest in incest, I told him it was by far the most popular story category at Literotica and I would not judge him poorly if he did.

When I asked again, he admitted he was sexually attracted to both his mother and grandmother. Was there mutual interest? Had they acted on any impulses? Surprisingly, his answers were yes and yes. As he previously mentioned, his grandmother was obvious about looking at his penis and made joking comments. However, she was careful never to cross the boundary to physical contact, perhaps because his mother was always present.

Never? Well, she did once. He told me he stayed alone with his grandmother last year while his mother traveled to her high school reunion. He spent too much time naked around her pool and received a painful sunburn. He had trouble enduring the sting when he went to bed. His grandmother offered to apply Aloe to his backside. She was tipsy from drinking and ordered him to turn over. She insisted on applying the gel to his front as well. His penis suffered sunburn too, and his grandmother enthusiastically applied gel to it. As his cock stiffened, her fingers stroked its length with loving tenderness.

"Does that make it feel better?" she asked him.

"Nana, you better stop." She didn't. Her fingers tightened around his cock and pumped him until the obvious out-cum. 

As she held his spurting dick, she remarked, "There you go, big boy. Doesn't that feel better?"

Lance said he felt odd and excited at the same time about his grandmother giving him a handjob. She applied more Aloe the next morning after his shower. She stroked his cock until it was erect, but stopped before he ejaculated, telling him he should take care of that himself. She has not spoken of the incident or anything sexual since.

What about his mother? He was ashamed about what happened with her and it took a bit of coaxing and smoking another joint to get the truth. She had been to a party back in March and returned home quite drunk. While they watched television, she talked candidly with her son about her disappointment. Her male companion stimulated her to the point that she desired sex, but the boorish gent got drunk and made a pass at another woman.

His mother leaned on her son and wept. Lance thought she wanted comfort from him. He helped her to her bedroom. She remained passive as he undressed her. Neither did she object when he fondled her breasts and rubbed her clit. His finger found her vagina wet and ready so he climbed on top of her. Her eyes closed as he entered her. His mother didn't react when he energetically fucked her. After pouring his seed inside her, he realized she was snoring.

I was shocked. "Wow! You fucked your mother while she was passed out? It was her and not a neighbor that you told me about before?"

He hung his head. "I'm embarrassed about what I did to her. I couldn't admit it to you before now. I hope you aren't disgusted enough to quit on me."

"No, you're young. People make mistakes. I won't hold it against you but I'm not the one you took advantage of. Did she know what you did?"

"Yeah. In the morning, she found my semen in her and figured it out. She was upset and she said a lot of things about my lack of judgment. I just don't know if I understand everything she said. I couldn't tell if she was angry that it happened or just the way it happened. We haven't talked about it since except one thing she said when I admitted I was having sex with an older woman. She said, 'Better her than me.'"

"You told her about me?"

"Yes."

"What did she say?"

"Just that it was better it was someone else."

"Look, I'm all for honest communications. I can't fault you for discussing me but because it involves me, I want you to tell me everything she says and anything you think she is not saying. If she ever objects to me, I will back off. Her opinion matters to me, more than yours. Understand? I've never had sexual thoughts about my son or grandson but that doesn't mean I think it's wrong for other people. Talk to your mother. I can tell you, her love is unconditional. Don't let your one mistake ruin your relationship with her."

I felt the need to get our mood back on something exciting. I moved my chair next to his and told him a few stories about having sex in public. I reached over to fondle his cock. He reacted by fingering my pussy which I could tell was bone dry even as my ardor rose. Eventually, I excused myself for a bathroom visit. After using the toilet, I washed my sex. I stopped to collect some things before returning to the balcony. I handed my tube of warming gel to Lance.

"What's this?"

"Warming gel. Taste it."

"Taste it?"

"Trust me. It's edible."

He put a dab on his finger then licked it off. "Strawberry. What's it for?"

"It's for old ladies who dry up too soon."

I tossed a condom down on the table. He grinned and stood up. His cock stiffened in eager anticipation to wear the covering just as a dog jumps up when his master grabs a leash. I spread a generous dollop of gel in my sex before bending over with my hands holding the railing. He needed no instructions to understand my intent but I advised him about my soreness, suggesting that he take it easy; I even urged him to come quickly.

As he stepped behind me, I told him, "Nana wants to fuck, big boy." He responded by ramming balls-deep into me.

Wincing, I begged for mercy but the cannabis and my naughty grandma impersonation spurred him on like a wild man. We were fucking fast and furious, moonlight bathing our bodies. I looked over and saw two people on the other balcony now. They were standing, facing our way, one of them pointing directly at us.

"We're being watched," I informed my lover. I verbally directed his attention to the voyeurs' location. He chuckled then began grunting as his plunges intensified. I was grateful when his orgasm came on the heels of mine and his assault ended. After we uncoupled, I walked like a cowgirl toward the bed and dove for my pillow. I don't remember landing.

I awoke to the room made bright by morning sunlight shining on the wall. The rectangle of light perfectly framed the profile shadow of a man with an erection; Lance was standing at the open patio door. Worried that he wanted to jackhammer my pussy again, I groaned. He heard me and turned.

"Good morning, Sandy. What sex lessons are you going to give me today?"

What kind of monster sex machine did I create? "Abstinence," was my answer. He thought I was joking until he understood my old body could not take further pounding. I informed him that even as a twenty-year-old, there was a limit to what a woman's labia and vagina could endure before bruising made the lightest contact painful. I didn't even want his face down there.

I felt like I was letting him down. I offered him a blowjob as consolation but he declined. He sat on the bed and talked to me. His goal was to be a considerate lover and appreciative of my feelings. With sweet praise, he thanked me for what I taught him the night before.

We took turns showering. Even though no sperm entered me, my own fluids had created a sticky mess of my vulva. Cleaning it was torture. After we dressed, we walked across the street to a Waffle House to have breakfast. I had no appetite so I had yogurt and a muffin. While eating, we discussed when we would get together again. Our tryst ended with a hug and kiss at my parked car.



The Biker Ch. 06



This story series describes my personal experiences with a young bicyclist. It began in November 2013. My husband and I have an open marriage. He is aware of my sexual encounters with this young man and watched me fellate him. The cyclist was twenty-two when I first met him, and he is a beautiful specimen of the male gender. I am forty years older; an old woman with flab, wrinkles, and saggy boobs. These are real life encounters. I don't falsify my appearance or pretend sex outcomes are perfect. 

The Biker Ch. 06 - Invited to meet his mother.

This chapter is short and contains little actual sex. It is necessary to connect the biker to the swingers club that Jack and I belong to and the biker's eventual attendance at a New Year's Eve party with us. This story is submitted to the Incest/Taboo category because of the insinuation of mother-son incest although no incestuous sex occurs in this chapter.

© SandraMustard 2015

* * * * *

During some pillow talk with Lance, I mentioned that my husband and I are swingers. Lance was curious about the lifestyle, particularly the prospect of meeting other women expressly to have sex. He was more inclined to try that then having a threesome with my husband and I; he admitted feeling intimidated by Jack who was eight inches taller and twice his weight.

I knew Lance would like to fuck any older woman. Imagining most mature women would drool over his lithe body and long cock, I realized that those same traits would threaten their spouses. When Jack reported that getting Lance into a swinger party would be difficult except accompanied by a woman, I thought of the obvious ramifications. He couldn't come with us as a third because he'd still be an odd man without a partner for swapping. Neither did I desire leaving my husband at home.

Lance and I had a phone chat about ten days after our hotel night. We discussed his take on the experience and the possibility of arranging another night. I was already hesitant to endure another whole night of pounding. His long cock was enjoyable for a one-timer but I suffered for days from the cervical bruising he caused.

I mentioned to Lance about the swingers club requirement for new males to have a female partner until accepted by other members and particularly for the upcoming New Year's Eve bash. He understood and didn't seem bothered by the news.

After traveling to visit family and having a daughter come for an extended visit, three more weeks passed. Lance had sent two text requests to call him before I had free time to respond. He had news he was eager to share.

"Would you consider coming to my house? Mom wants to meet you. Both of you, actually."

I knew he had told his mother about having sex with me and she had an idea how old I was. He said she accepted our relationship but I wondered why she wanted to meet me now. And why Jack, too? Did she want to criticize us or tell me to desist? As I told Lance before, her opinion about us was more important to me than his desire for me was because of our extreme age difference. I did not want to disturb a widowed mother's hopes for her only son's future. Although he was an adult who could make decisions for himself, things he learned in his early twenties would affect the rest of his life.

I conveyed my concerns but he assured me that his mother still accepted me as his sex partner despite my age. She had instructed him to invite us because she had questions about the swingers club and wanted the answers first hand. Meeting Jack would also assure her that her son wasn't intruding on anybody's marital relationship. We made plans to meet her on the Saturday morning after Thanksgiving.

Driving to a rural area on the bay side of town, the morning was summer warm as late November can be where we live. Sturdy cinderblock and brick homes nestled under mature oaks and among smaller broadleaf evergreens. We pulled into his driveway precisely at the appointed time. Lance opened his front door and a friendly cocker spaniel came bounding out to greet us.

After greeting us on his front stoop, he said his mother was in the back yard and we should follow him. Stepping out into a screened lanai, I saw the back of a pool lounge chair facing away from us in the middle of the high-fenced yard. With the back raised halfway, only his mother's hair was visible. Exiting the lanai through a screen door, we walked three abreast across the grass.

As I was on the flank and had the earliest side view of her, I realized we were in for a remarkable introduction. I could see she was taking in the sun au naturel.

Lance announced, "Mom? Sandy and Jack are here."

As she stood up, her son uttered a surprised, "What the hell?" I gathered he had no idea she had purposely staged the scene for some intended shock value. But for whom?

She was no stranger to nude sunbathing, darkly tanned even on her hairless labia. Thin and shorter than me, she was all of one hundred pounds. Her breasts were small and roundish with thick bubble-gum nipples standing firm; they barely jiggling as she walked. Although she was in her mid-forties, I envied her youthful shape. She glanced at Jack but then focused on me as she approached.

"Hello, Sandy. I'm Stacey. You knew we were nudists, didn't you?" She offered a handshake.

"No." Releasing her hand, I paused just long enough to get her to blink in surprise. "I didn't know  until just now. I thought he was just saying that so he could show me his penis. I have to say it is one of the best looking cocks I've ever seen."

Stacey laughed sharply. "You are a brassy woman! That sounds like my son, all right. He tells me you've more than seen it."

I wanted to say, 'He said that of you, too,' but I decided that might ruin things for everybody. Instead, I played it light. "I'll have to talk to him about kiss and tell."

Stacey half-turned to my husband and offered another handshake. "Hi, you must be Jack."

"Pleased to meet you, Stacey. You can call me Woody."

I almost laughed when he pulled that nickname from his past. My eyes glanced at his crotch just as hers did. He was indeed pleased to meet a naked woman.

Stacey smiled at him and attempted to pull her hand out of his as she turned away. Jack pulled her back against his body. His arm went around her slender back until his fingers spread over the side of her breast. His other hand cupped her tiny ass.

She didn't resist. Her arms folded behind his neck as their mouths mashed together in a kiss that lasted ten seconds. As he bent over her petite frame, her breasts pressed against his thin shirt but his large belly and body angle precluded contact below their waists.

I glanced at Lance who appeared bemused by my husband's assault on his mother, maybe aroused. Wondering about his thoughts, I waited to see who would make the next shocking move.

"You certainly are friendly, Woody," she said when their lips broke contact. She stared into his eyes for lingering seconds while they remained wrapped in each other's arms. Her developing interest in Jack was obvious to me. Jack was being more than friendly. I knew by his aggressive greeting that he had ideas to have her ride his woodie.

When they disengaged, I noticed that she glanced at her son for his reaction rather than at me. The dynamics of our introductory visit was full of intrigue even before we began discussing the swingers club.

"Where would you like to sit and chat? I could pull up more chairs or we could go inside."

I responded, "Outside is fine. It's a beautiful day."

She offered us beer or water. When we asked for water, she sent Lance in to get some for us and for her as well. Asking Jack to help bring the chairs from a deck area, she arranged them in pairs.

"I don't want to be a distraction. Would you prefer that I put on clothes?"

I started to answer, "It's your house, whatever ..." I stopped when I noticed Jack pull his shirt off over his head. In a flash, pardon the pun, he dropped his shorts and stretched out in one of the middle chairs. "I guess we're going to follow your undress code."

As Stacey reclined in the other middle chair, I moved to the outside lounger next to Jack. Although I have been naked outdoors before, I still had a look around to decide who might see us. A high wooden fence surrounded her yard but I wondered if neighbors ever peeked through knotholes at the nudist family. Despite the possible voyeurs, I removed my clothes.

Lance arrived with the water just as I sat down, appearing flabbergasted by the sight of everybody naked. He had a beer for himself and took two big swigs before Stacey suggested he join us. Like a cleanup-hitter moving into the batter's box, all eyes were on his big bat swinging in the sunshine.

Unlike Stacey and Lance, our deep tans had creamy white areas. She reached into her bag and produced a bottle of sunscreen, which she handed to Jack. "Better put some of this on. Even though the sun is at a low angle, your sensitive parts will burn quickly."

I knew Jack would seize the opportunity to turn the simple application into something erotic without asking. He rolled to his side and squirted a squiggle of lotion across my breasts, belly, and mons. His hands gently spread the cream on every surface that was now feeling the direct sun, paying special attention to my nipples and clit. Because his body blocked their view, I don't think Stacey or Lance saw exactly where his hands touched.

Looking into my eyes with a wordless plea, he handed the sunscreen to me. I squirted a horseshoe arc up his thighs and around his genitals. I rubbed the lotion all around, avoiding the place he wanted me to rub except with teasing swipes and bumps. Adding a large dollop of cream to my palms, I smeared it over his cock and balls before methodically covering every skin cell.

Both of our hosts had unobstructed views to watch me. Grasping and pulling lengthened his member until I could hold it vertical by the base. With a solitary fingertip, I painted sunscreen on his glans. When I had him protected ... and proud, I let him flop against his belly. I gave the bottle to Jack who passed it back to Stacey.

Her eyes remained fixated on his stiff cock. "I see why they call you Woody."

She put some in her palm before passing the bottle to Lance. As much as Lance probably wished I, or even his mother, would treat his penis the way I had Jack's, we ignored him while focusing on Jack. Instead of applying her lotion to herself, Stacey held it and watched my fingers continue to slide up and down Jack's woodie.

"You missed a spot. May I?"

"Go ahead," I said as I pulled my hand away.

Stacey moved to sit on the edge of his lounger. With one hand holding his cock toward his belly, her other hand applied lotion to his perineum. Spreading it on his inner thighs and over his balls, her hands converged on his hard cock. One hand twisted his glans while the other stroked the shaft. I could see her small hands could not completely encircle him.

Looking behind her, I noticed Lance stroking his long cock in full erection as if competing for recognition. His mom noticed my gaze and turned to see what had my attention. Feeling her hand stop, Jack opened his eyes and looked too. The juxtaposition of their erections allowed each of us to judge Lance's length was half again longer than Jack's, but Jack was half again thicker. The absurdity of the scene led to it ending without discussion; Lance stopped stroking and Stacey returned to her lounge chair.

Stacey broke the momentary awkward silence. "When Lance first told me about you, he said your husband watched you suck his cock. Not only that, but he was certain he knew you spent a night with him having sex. I can see that you both have sexual freedom. Tell me about that."

Jack and I gave her a brief history about how we came to have an open marriage. She had more questions about our marital relationship that we answered honestly. Then we discussed the first outdoor sex. She was most amused that I carried condoms in my bike bag.

She understood the impromptu copulation but inquired why I chose to meet him for planned sex. She asked what I wanted and received from the arrangement. I explained that I really wanted to help Lance learn to control his ejaculations and there was pleasure for me as well. Lance joined in to describe how his knowledge and confidence benefited from my experience.

"I admit that I had some misgivings about your age at first. I thought you might be taking advantage of my son for your own kinky needs. Now I know you are really helping him to be a good lover and anything you choose to do is fine by me. Which brings us to the next thing. I understand you belong to a club and you'd like to invite him, but there is some problem with that. Tell me about the club."

"It's a swingers club where couples get together to swap partners and have sex. It's mostly couples only to keep the exchanges even. They said sometimes individual men or women come but not first timers and especially not young men. This club is mostly mature couples. I won't leave Jack behind, even for an opportunity to introduce Lance."

"If he had a partner, would he have sex with her?"

"I haven't seen couples have sex with their mates, even in threesome situations, but that doesn't mean it can't happen. Whatever consenting adults agree upon is okay including same sex hookups."

Stacey had a specific reason to ask us about the swingers club. Her personal solution to the invitation problem came as a bit of a surprise to Jack and me. From Lance's expressions, it was clear he knew what she was going to say.

"Suppose I went as Lance's partner. I want to make sure I wouldn't be expected to have sex with him. I'm not sure I even want them to know we are mother and son because of what they might assume."

"Sex arrangements have to be agreements by everyone involved. No one is allowed to coerce anybody into any act they aren't comfortable doing, not just the other couple but even spouses. Couples usually swap partners and have sex in the same room, even the same bed, but it doesn't have to be that way either if you'd rather not. As to what you tell people, that's your decision. You can refuse to answer questions or state that you are open about sex but not involved with each other. Refusing to answer might make them suspicious. Explaining you believe sex is healthy and the party gives both of you opportunities to have fun is better."

"Lance knows I have sex with men but has never witnessed it even when it's been in our house. He and I have discussed this and I think we could handle being in the same room. I imagine that would make it easier for the other couple but I don't know yet what I'll say to any questions about our relationship. Touching your husband's cock was the first sexual thing he's seen me do. The way it excited him tells me he may get off on watching me."

That was the closest she came to admitting knowledge of his incestuous feelings. I think Lance was a bit embarrassed and tried to offer a different take.

"Yeah, I got horny like I was watching porn, but I'd rather do something with Sandy."

His declaration amused all of us and lightened the atmosphere. No one said it aloud but perhaps we all knew he would jump at the chance to fuck his mother, in public or private.

We talked about the club rules and practicing safe sex as an unbreakable rule. Jack and I would have to introduce them at the party so we discussed taking them in our car.

Stacey asked, "Will you be our first swap partners?"

"No. I don't think so."

"Is it that you don't want me to see you with my son or that you don't want me having sex with Woody?"

"I've already had sex with Lance. It's a matter of taking advantage of the party where I can enjoy new partners that I haven't met yet. I have no issues about you seeing me with Lance or you with Jack. My husband can have sex with anyone he wants. I know in fact that he'd be happy to jump your bones right now. Any sex among us is possible in the future but it won't happen at the party."

We continued to talk about various topics including being nudists, swingers, and sexual preferences. It was close to two hours before we decided to go inside. Rather than dress immediately, we carried our clothes.

Standing inside their kitchen, she again offered us beer. Although I asked for more water, this time Jack accepted and she drank one too. She stood very close to Jack, letting her naked mons brush against his dangling hand as they talked about meeting again soon. I saw his hand swivel around and his fingers slide into her slit.

Her delighted reaction was obvious. She rose up on her toes and her mouth opened in a lusty oval. She put her beer down and grabbed his cock. Her head tilted up and stretched toward his lips. While they shared a long soul kiss, Lance moved his hips to place his cock against my hand. I wrapped my fingers around him and discovered he was nearly hard, but we both seemed interested in watching his mother and Jack. She squirmed against his hand and pulled sharply on his cock.

She broke off the kiss to ask, "Do you have a condom with you?"

"In the car but someone would have to get dressed to go out for it. Sandy has to go to work in a little while so I don't think I have time to do it right for you anyway."

Stacey looked genuinely disappointed but after a moment, her face brightened as she came up with another idea. "Your cock is all greasy. Come with me so I can clean it off before you get dressed."

I didn't see the need to remove the lotion but I should have guessed she had an ulterior motive. I played with Lance's cock briefly but stopped before setting him off. Explaining that we needed to leave soon, I put my clothes on. For nearly ten minutes, we waited for Jack and Stacey to return.

The suspense was too much for Lance. "They've been in there a long time. Do you think he's fucking my mother?"

"Not without a condom. They may be up to something though. If we go in there to find out, are you prepared for what you might see?"

He didn't answer but headed for his mother's bedroom with me following. From the doorway of the master bathroom, we saw Jack leaning back against the vanity. Stacey was squatting in front of him, vigorously mouthing his cock. They both glanced sideways at us but continued their sex act.

I think being watched set Jack off. He thrust his hips forward and groaned loudly. I saw her swallow twice but then hold steady as he grunted and pumped the remainder of his load into her mouth. I could tell she held some of his cum in her mouth as she stood up and pulled his head down for a kiss. Jack reacted with surprise to have his semen shared in such quantity.

"Haven't you ever snowballed, Woody?"

"I'm not afraid to kiss a mouth with my semen in it but I've never had it saved up for me. I can't say I'm turned off but I don't think it's exciting either."

Turning toward me and noticing I was dressed, he nodded acknowledgement of our time constraint.

"We need to go now, so I better get dressed. We'll talk with the swinger hosts and let you know if they approve. I'm pretty sure you will be enjoying New Year's Eve with some sexy people."



The Biker Ch. 07



This story series describes my personal experiences with a young bicyclist. They began in November 2013. My husband and I have an open marriage. He is aware of my sexual encounters with this young man, watched me fellate him once, and as I wrote about in Chapter 6, received a blowjob from the biker's mother. He has not seen us fucking yet. The cyclist was twenty-two when I first met him, and he is a beautiful specimen of the male gender.

I am forty years older; an old woman with flab, wrinkles, and saggy boobs. These are real life encounters. I don't falsify my appearance or pretend sex outcomes are perfect.

I believe in and practice safe sex. You won't find bareback intercourse or cream pies in my autobiographical stories. We clean dildos between uses. I may not mention every time a condom was rolled on but they always were. 

The Biker Ch. 07 - A private foursome after the swingers' party.

I'm submitting this chapter in the Incest/Taboo category because the biker had sex with his mother, Stacey. Hell, this story is loaded with extraordinary sex acts. I had to pick only one category, but there is much more to warn readers about. I had strap-on sex with Stacey, both anal and vaginal ... and anal sex with both men. All three of us had sex with Stacey at the same time. There was double penetration and spit roasting, but no male - male sex. All of us smoked pot. My husband and I did not have incestuous sex with anybody, but we did observe it and had sex with the mother and son while they did. 

If your own sensibilities have not turned you away from any of the squicks I have mentioned, then this chapter will describe the second half of a single night's story. Just hetero-sex happened at an earlier party covered in Wings 9. We went to the New Year's Eve swingers' party, bringing Lance and his mother along, but we didn't have sex with them there. This chapter takes over when we decided to leave the party. Returning to their house, they invited us in. Things started innocently enough with a little weed induced petting. Pairing into non-related couples, we had straight sex - but then the sex curved all over the bed until morning.

© SandraMustard 2015

* * * * *

After my fourth fuck at the party, I dressed and made my way to the great room where I found Stacey sitting on Jack's lap on a sofa. Her head rested on his shoulder with her eyes closed. His arm was reaching under her sarong, and thanks to the fabric's sheerness, his fingers were visibly probing her sex. Jack looked up just as I walked up. "Hey, Babe. Ready to go?"

I didn't respond immediately. Lance was standing ten feet away talking to a mature couple; the woman had her hand inside his leggings. I had just looked in their direction when she pulled her hand free, dropped to her knees, and planted a kiss on his bulge, adding to the collage of lip-prints on his leggings. He certainly made the most of my careless act.

Turning back to answer my husband, I noticed Stacey writhing from an orgasm. Both of her hands were crammed between her legs, trying to force his deeper into her vagina. If he desired to fuck Stacey or she him, why not hook up at the party? I decided fingering her was just to pass the time.

As far as my needs, I could stay or leave. I was not sore from my four encounters, but thanks to my last partner, I was satisfied enough to call it a night. "Yeah, I'm ready."

We thanked the hosts and made our way to our car. We filled the ride back to their house with discussions about experiences at the party. Although we never happened to share a room or observe each other having sex, we easily identified the partners involved by the descriptions or mannerisms.

Stacey had more definitive relationship knowledge about the couple on the porch; the ones I assumed were an older husband and trophy wife. He was actually her sugar daddy, she just a live-in girlfriend. She has worked as a dancer at a gentlemen's club, a party stripper, and an escort in her past. He likes to share her and have her act like a total slut. He hinted she still earned money in bed.

The portly man had sexual shortcomings. Small in size, quick to shoot his load, and inattentive to his partner's needs, he didn't give Stacey an orgasm when she insisted on sex with him if he wanted to see Lance bang his girlfriend.

I was looking over my shoulder at them in the back seat when she put her hand on Lance's hip while she continued talking about his performance. I couldn't help notice her fingertips resting on the tip of his bulging cock. I saw Lance glance down at her hand.

Looking at her son but speaking to me, she said, "You'd be proud of Lance. I guess your teachings have helped his self-control. He fucked her for twenty minutes. He had four other couples watching, 'specially the ladies."

"I had trouble coming. She wasn't that exciting for me. I finally decided to fake it," Lance admitted.

Stacey's hand gave an 'aw-go-on' shove in reaction, except, instead of pushing his hip, her hand slid onto his cock, completely covering it. "Well, you sure fooled everybody, Shooter." Turning toward me, she casually withdrew her hand. "He still made such an impression on her that she gave him a business card with her number on it."

I had heard her call him Shooter once before, that day we first met. This time I asked, "How'd he get the nickname, Shooter?"

Lance looked embarrassed, his eyes pleading her not to answer but she ignored him. "Because we are nudists, I've always been casual about household nudity. I happen to be tolerant of the things a young man will do, but I have witnessed more of his ejaculations than a mother should. I've tried shaming him."

"Did that work?"

"Not entirely. I think he liked the name. He likes to be watched."

"Don't I know," I remarked, remembering our first encounter. I regretted bringing it up instantly.

"I heard about that. You actually asked him to masturbate for you?"

I nodded then deflected the conversation, mentioning my encounter with Steve and my discovery that she had done him too. When I passed on his remarks about 'the wild woman who made him come too fast,' she offered an explanation. She thought he was extremely handsome. Wanting to ride him cowgirl style so she could look at him while fucking, she may have been too energetic and vocal. The short ride left her plenty of time to witness the pounding that Lance gave his wife.

Stacey offered one more anecdotal story about one of their experiences. Lance's pudgy blowjob contest partner and her husband sought them out for a swap. She described the man as enthralled with her small and girlish body. He was a good lover and provided Stacey her best multi-orgasmic experience at the party. Even so, it paled in comparison to what Lance accomplished. The husband knew his wife was a size queen but when Lance managed to make her squirt, possibly only her second time ever and never by the husband, it caused a heated discussion afterward. They left the party shortly afterward.

At the critical moment when she mentioned the woman squirting, Stacey's hand once again reached out and gave Lance an 'attaboy' double pat right on his cock. All her touches were now clearly intentional, blatantly on his cock, and deliberately done knowing I would see her do it.

Why was she doing that? Was it simple pride in her son's wherewithal? Was it a tease or challenge to me so she could watch him drill me too? With more attention to Lance's exploits than her own, was she now showing interest in him sexually? Maybe it was all of those things together.

Lance reacted with surprise each time, but especially to the 'shove' which turned into a firm rub. Conflict registered on his face. He had told me months before that she made it clear she would not tolerate him trying anything with her. Based on his reactions, I doubted things had changed between them since then. I could tell he was equally uncertain about why she touched his cock.

Stacey made one observation about this type of swinger party that summed up the pros and cons calling it 'assembly line' sex. Sex was easy to arrange, partners were abundant; but sex was rushed, required to be simple to finish in the suggested thirty-minute limit, all to free up bed space as a courtesy to the next couple. She had two good fucks out of four experiences but doubted she would attend another party. She preferred having a whole night to do all that she pleased.

It was nearly three in the morning. As we approached their house, Stacey invited us in before we got to her driveway. Jack accepted immediately. Was this a plan they formed while she was in his lap? When she exited our car, Stacey handed my tote bag of toys to me.

"Do you figger I'm gonna need this?"

"You never know. You'll be ready if you do, won't you," she said with a wink.

Jack and I had a minute of privacy in their living room when Lance stepped outside with their dog and Stacey went into her bedroom.

"Did she plan something with you before we left?"

"No, not plan. She mentioned that she couldn't stop thinking about my cock-sleeve. I think she's gonna ask me to use it on her. What was with all her talk about Lance?"

"You caught that, huh? You couldn't see but I did that she groped his cock more than once..."

Lance coming back in and walking past interrupted our conversation. Then Stacey returned ... stark naked. She pranced across the room before settling in Jack's lap next to me on the couch. Her arrival wafted her freshened perfume around our noses.

Lance joined us a moment later carrying a tray with wine glasses and two bottles of pinkish moscato. He set the tray down on the coffee table then pulled a joint from above his ear and sparked it. As we passed it around, I took interest in the lip-prints on his leggings at eye level, three feet away. I reached out and dragged my fingers across his bulge.

"How many are there?"

"Twelve. Well, twelve kissed it but some weren't wearing lip-gloss. Most of them held it and looked at it too. You were first. Thanks for starting it."

"I'm going to be last, too."

I pulled my lip-gloss out of my purse and applied a thick coat. Lance was eager, pushing his hips forward to present his now horizontal bulge. With my hand on his shaft, my lips pressed hard on his glans. When I pulled away to admire my work, Stacey leaned forward.

"Be the first to start marking another place," she suggested. She reached out and pulled his leggings down to his knees. Her hand curled around his nearly rigid cock and pointed it to my mouth. "Right there on the head, Sandy."

While she continued to hold him, I kissed his glans. As my head lifted off, I heard Stacey gasp. Her body began surging forward, her hand clenched tightly around her son's cock, pulling herself forward.

"What's the matter?" I asked.

"Woody is fingering me," she hissed, still surging and pulling. Her eyes closed and her mouth fell open; she was unaware how close her lips were coming to her son's cock. That inspired me.

"It's your turn," I said, breaking her trance. I held out my lip-gloss and mirror.

Releasing Lance's cock to take the items from me, she tried to apply the gloss but Jack was still giving her a bumpy ride. "Damn it. Stop a minute so I can do this."

When she was ready, I did the holding for her. He was so hard; I had to pull him down instead of lifting the way she did. Just as her open mouth approached, Jack rammed several fingers into her vagina. With a startled gasp, she lunged forward, taking a third of Lance's cock into her mouth. She didn't pull back though. Her lips closed firmly around his shaft, rolling slightly with her rocking motion for several seconds. I thought, 'maybe this is going to turn into a spit roast.'

Instead, Stacey jumped up. She grabbed Jack's hand, urging him to rise. "Come on. You've got me all worked up." She led him away to her bedroom.

Lance looked stunned, both by his mother putting her mouth on him and by stopping. He stood there like a warrior, his spear at the ready with two rings of red war paint, needing a conquest. I helped him step out of his leggings before sending him to put the chilled wine away for later while I fetched my tote bag. He appeared to anticipate going to his bedroom but I pulled him toward his mother's.

Stacey was lying on her back, her legs bent at the knees and open as if for a pelvic exam. Doctor Jack's head was between her thighs, probing her female parts with his wet tongue. After shedding my clothes, I assumed a similar position next to Stacey. Lance eagerly dove into my muff.

I was amazed at the skill Lance demonstrated. Months earlier in a hotel room, he had taken his first tentative licks of my sex. With whom had he been practicing? I doubted it was with his mother, probably his young girlfriend or another woman. Rather quickly, the answer didn't matter; the pleasure I was receiving was both the rhyme and the reason.

I heard Stacey whimpering and squealing above my own passion noises as Jack chained her orgasms. Lance was driving me crazy and my body ached to be fucked. He seemed to match his actions to Jack; when he rose to put on a condom, Lance did too. I was happy to see Jack hard, knowing Stacey was going to get my husband's best. She cooed over his fat cock and cleanly waxed pubic area, and moaned when he plunged deep into her petite body.

I knew without looking that the young cock of the biker was ready to split me in half. Lance already had sex with several women that night. I was afraid his staying power would wear me out. He was steadily pounding me, giving me multiple penetration orgasms.

Stacey was having violent orgasms under Jack, crying out repeatedly, "Fuck me hard, Woody." Jack was studly in his performance, maintaining a steady pace, driving his cock deep in slow plunges through a handful of her orgasms. I recognized his orgasm when his head pulled back and he growled fiercely. Stacey must have seen and felt the signs, too. "Yeah baby, give me your seed."

Lance was still pounding himself against my cervix, inducing little pangs of discomfort. I began to worry how long he would take to come. Then my mind tied together Stacey calling my husband by his nickname, Woody, and remembering that I heard her twice call Lance, Shooter. I even tried to mimic her voice when I said, "Fuck me, Shooter. Your cock feels so good inside me."

As if I had dug spurs into my stallion, he burst into furious plunges. "Oh, Shooter, you're making me come again!" I put my legs around his hips and hooked my ankles behind his butt; my arms wrapped tighter around his chest and I hung onto his undulating body. He grunted sharply as he came.

When we came to a stop, I turned my head to find Stacey smiling at me. She said, "I know what you did there. That's so naughty."

Stacey got out of bed and went into her bathroom. I heard water running and then she returned with two wet washcloths and a bottle of lotion. She handed me one of the cloths and I understood we were to clean up our lovers but her next move surprised me.

Instead of moving around to Jack's side of the bed, she stood next to Lance and told him to lie on his back. He stretched out across the foot of the bed and then she reached down and pulled off his condom. Our lip-prints were smeared into wider bands, mine covered in semen; bands that quickly disappeared as she tenderly washed her son's cock.

I turned my attention to my husband. Crawling over to kneel next to him, I indulged him with a similar cleanup. When I reached for the lotion, I noticed Stacey had applied a liberal amount to her son and was spreading it around and on his cock and balls thoroughly. Again, I gave Jack the same treatment.

When we finished cleanup, we took up new positions on the bed. Jack remained on his back near the edge of the bed. I stretched out on my back at a slight angle to him, using his chest as a headrest. At his mother's urging, Lance had turned to recline next to me. Outside of him, she sat sideways on her hip, propped up on one arm.

Almost hard from being handled, Lance's cock pointed at his belly. I reached out, put my hand around its base, and levered it vertical. "He has such a handsome cock, don't you think?"

"Yes, I do," Stacey admitted. She casually ran a fingertip around and over his glans, staring pensively for a moment. Then she shared a bit of their family background.

"My husband and I were nudists and we raised Lanced that way. When he started taking notice of our body differences, we didn't hide. We answered all his questions. It was harder to explain why most people aren't nudists. We took him to nudist resorts so he could see there were other people like us. I think he developed a healthy knowledge of human anatomy and sex as a result.

"But he didn't seem to take much interest in girls during high school or even college. He had a few female friends but no serious romantic relationships. I don't know if it was due to attitude differences about clothing or some emotional shell he went into when his father was killed in a car accident his junior year. I know he developed a serious sexual interest in me in his late teens but I discouraged that. We talk honestly about everything. I didn't treat any of his ideas or feelings as abnormal so we have always kept communications open.

"That's why I know he lost his virginity about a year ago. It was a relief to know he was moving forward but then there was an incident soon after. What I'm going to tell you may shock you but don't judge him or me until I have a chance to explain. Lance had intercourse with me while I was passed out drunk."

I interrupted her. "I already knew about that. He was trying to explain his limited experience and told me the whole story. He felt he had to tell me the truth, but why didn't he just not say anything? I don't know. Why do you feel you have to tell me the same thing? If you're worried about people judging you or him, which I don't by the way, why bring up the incident at all?"

She replied, "I'm getting to that. I was worried his sexual desires were still focused on me. I was so relieved when he started having sex with you. Then I wanted to enable his further exploration, so I agreed to attend this party with him. After agreeing though, I worried about him seeing me having sex next to him. I was afraid he would be jealous or get ideas to try again to have sex with me. Tonight at the party with all the women he had ... and here with you ... I realized I have a different problem than I imagined."

She paused so long that I thought she was afraid to tell me something that happened at the party. Lance appeared clueless and concerned where this was all going, too. I finally asked, "What's the problem?"

"Isn't it obvious? It's me! I'm the one who's jealous of the other women ... and of you ... for being able to have," she grabbed his cock for emphasis, "this beautiful penis giving you pleasure. Several times tonight I've come so close to jumping on him and fucking myself silly."

"I think the real problem is why. Why are you denying your desire for him?"

"Because I'm his mother."

"Lots of mothers love their sons with their hearts and  their bodies. It's not wrong if you do."

Stacey looked down at her son's hard cock then into his eyes.

"I want you, too, Mom."

Her shoulders rose and fell in a silent sigh, marking the exact moment she gave in. She moved into a kneeling position at his hip. Her head lowered and her mouth covered the end of his cock.

I watched the most sensuous blowjob I have ever seen. She didn't just suck his cock, she loved  it. She deep throated him several times. I saw mostly the top of her head the first time, so I slid over to watch from near Lance's shoulder. I could see her throat bulge as his cock slid down. Her lavish fellatio went on for over fifteen minutes; his three orgasms at the party is probably the only reason he didn't have another in her mouth.




The Biker Ch. 07



Jack and I were observers, enjoying the arousing show. We wanted to be involved in more group sex with them, but we stayed back to let them enjoy their personal moment. I reached back to fondle my husband's cock while he diddled my clit.

Lance's hand reached around his mother's ass and probed her sex from behind. She responded by angling her body to make it easier for him to reach. Soon his fingers had her worked up and wanting more. Stacey stopped sucking him to take up a new position. She moved her knees up past his shoulder, and then lifted one leg to swing it over his head. I had to move my head out of the way as her leg came down where it had been.

She leaned forward onto her hands and carefully lowered her sex over his face with his hands at her waist guiding her down. I still had a great vantage point, this time of her engorged labia and wet, pink inner flesh, while Jack now had a better side view of her mouth taking all of his long cock.

Lance showed his eagerness to excite his mother with his new cunnilingial skills. He energetically wiggled his tongue on her clit, sucked the bud into his mouth, and squeezed with his lips. Occasionally, his tongue teased her vagina. Both of them were squirming and making erotic noises.

I could tell from her staccato whimpering and her hips grinding on his face that she began her orgasm. Lance slid his tongue up to push into her vagina, so deep that his nose must have touched her rosebud. I couldn't see what he was doing but his head didn't back away. His arms bear-hugged her body tightly to his face. Her cries of passion were muffled by his cock filling her mouth. Lance rode out her orgasm, holding back for their final act.

During her orgasm, Jack had taken a condom off the nightstand behind him and handed it to me to hold. When Stacey rose up and turned around, I held up the foil packet. She looked at it and hesitated.

"I don't need it. I can't get pregnant."

"If you and Lance have sex with others, it's the right thing to do together. I want to see y'all act safe."

Lance took the condom out of my hands and opened the packet. "She's right, Mom. I want to wear it." He had it on by the time he finished speaking.

Stacey held his cloaked manhood vertical; she had to stretch to position herself over him. She declined to use our gel, relying on her copious fluids to lubricate. Half his cock disappeared with the first plunge. I expected her to lift and pile-drive her way down until his full length was in her. Instead, she squirmed and rotated her hips; another inch slid in. Refusing to lose what she gained, several move pushes had him buried to his balls.

I don't think I could have done that. I always need many penetrations to stretch myself slowly. She was so petite; where did she fit him? Witnessing the live porn from a few feet away, their slim bodies gave us excellent views of his long cock splitting her bare vulva in two. They put on quite an erotic show. I nearly climaxed just from watching Stacey have another violent orgasm. She only slowed for a short time, and then redoubled her efforts to make her son come.

Jack tapped me on the shoulder and waved 'come-on' as he climbed out of bed. I thought he might be suggesting we leave them to finish alone but he bent over to reach into my tote bag of toys. When he handed my strap-on to me, I understood that he wanted to get ready for the next act. Jack and I cleaned our dildos for use while watching the fornication escalate.

Stacey was trying to coax her son's orgasm with words. "Come on, Shooter. Show mommy how you use that beautiful cock. Ooh, that feels so good. Damn, you're a fucking machine! You're making me come again. Don't hold back, baby, shoot inside me."

Her words changed to pleasure noises joined by his and they rose to a crescendo coupled with a fury of body convulsions. Lance's hips bounced off the bed with the force of his thrusts into his mother. His cry of passion signaled releasing years of desire. When it was all over, she collapsed on top of him. They shared hugs, kisses, and quiet words.

Deciding to let them repose as long as they wanted, I told Jack to strap on his cock-sleeve while I positioned myself on the bed. His dildo is massive in order to have room inside for his significant girth when engorged. It adds two inches to his length as well. From home use, we know he has to use lubricating gel so I can receive him comfortably.

By the time Jack knelt between my splayed legs, Stacey had turned her head to look. Her eyes opened wide when she saw the size of it protruding from his loins. She lifted her head so she could see it plow into my sex and continued to watch with great interest as he fucked me.

My husband knows not to hammer me with the whole thing. I get the most pleasure from slow thrusts just deep enough to fill me. The ridge around the bulbous head produces wonderful stimulation of my G-spot. As a result, it didn't take long for his practiced rhythm to give me two orgasms.

Lance had to pee so Stacey rolled off him, settling on her back next to me. After continuing to watch us for a moment, her head turned to ask me, "Can I have a go with him and that thing when you're done?" She knew she could but asked to let me know she was waiting for a turn. I patted Jack on the chest and he knew to withdraw.

We had learned from Barbie and Cindy about cleaning our dildos when switching orifices. This was the first time we shared our toys with multiple partners but the same cleaning practice applied. After a quick wipe down to remove my fluids, Jack liberally applied warming gel lube to his sleeve.

Stacey was waiting for him with her legs spread wide, her inner labia hanging out and glistening. She propped herself up on her elbows so her head and shoulders were raised to allow her to watch the initial penetration. Lance stepped out of the bathroom just in time to witness the assault. When I saw Jack press the gigantic head to her small opening, I worried he would split her in half.

Stacey thought so, too. "Damn, that's huge, Woody." Yet, her hands eagerly reached for his hips to help pull him in. He pushed the head side-to-side to wedge past her labia until the 'glans' disappeared. Jack pushed forward and more of his dildo slid out of sight. "It's warm! It feels alive!" she squealed. I was amazed how much went into her on the first push. He pulled back slightly before completing the plunge. The tiny woman had a bottomless vagina.

"How do you want it, little gal?" Jack asked.

"Fuck the shit out of me, Woody," she implored. "I like it rough."

Was she letting her inner slut loose in response to what happened that night? Or were we all just discovering the diverse wild woman she was in the bedroom? For whichever reason, wild is the way to describe the sequence of sexual acts she directed in a short period of time.

Jack began driving his wrist-thick dildo-extended cock into her. The more force he used, the more she moaned and begged, "Harder."

After enjoying a mild orgasm, Stacey reached over to where Lance was standing at the side of the bed and took hold of his dangling cock. After a few tugs, she started twisting and squirming to bring her head under him. When she pulled down on his cock, he flexed his knees to drop several flaccid inches into her hungry mouth.

Watching my husband's ass flexing suggested my opportunity to join in. I put on my strap-on and lubed it up. Before I was ready to climb on the bed, the others changed positions.

Lance's cock started to stiffen. Stacey tried to lift her head to stay on him but soon he was rising out of her reach. With an incredible maneuver, she solved the dilemma. One of her legs stretched straight up and swung past Jack's body in what reminded me of a gymnast's move. While her vagina remained constantly pegged by Jack's cock-sleeve, her body rotated until she was on her hands and knees. Now she could take Lance into her mouth easily. As Jack thrust deep into her from behind, he forced her body forward until her face pressed against her son's pubic bone. There was nowhere for his cock to go but down her throat.

I moved to join their spit roast from behind Jack. As I pointed my dildo between his cheeks, Lance looked surprised. "What the hell are you going to do?"

"Fuck my husband's ass."

Jack was sweating and breathing hard from his energetic fucking efforts. I think he was grateful for the reprieve when he paused to let me penetrate. He gasped as my dildo slipped through his sphincter. I inched closer on my knees, penetrating him deeper. Jack began a gentler fuck rhythm, his rocking ass impaling itself on my strap-on on each backstroke.

"Do you wanna try this, Shooter?" I asked.

"Hell no, I'm not gay. I won't go anywhere near your husband's ass."

I stifled a laugh. "Not his ass, let me in your ass."

"No fucking way. Not even a plastic cock is going in my back door. It's too gay."

Jack wanted to set him straight on a few points. "It's not about feeling a man-like cock fucking me or I wouldn't be doing it. I'm letting my wife fuck me. For me, the pleasure comes from submitting to her power. For Sandy, she enjoys the feeling of being the master, of doing the penetrating. The dildo happens to be cock-shaped which is perfect for touching my prostate. It's like a male G-spot. We found out rubbing it triggers my orgasm. No one will make you do it if you're not interested; just letting you know it's out there."

Stacey stopped sucking his cock to express her thoughts about anal sex. "Baby, are you against anal sex in general or just receiving it?" Lance shrugged wordlessly. "I like receiving and two men using both holes at the same time. Would you ever put your cock in my ass?" Again, he just shrugged. After a pause, she added, "I've worn a strap-on before. If not Sandy, would you let me use one on you?"

Lance didn't respond at all, not even a shrug. At least, he didn't vehemently reject the idea. He probably never thought about anal sex before but now his mother's interests were reasons enough to consider it. He could also observe us to judge the pleasures we received.

We returned to our four-way connected sex. Our movements were moderate after the long night of sex. Achieving earth-moving orgasms was unlikely and not our goal any longer. Some variations we tried produced no orgasms so mild ones were a bonus.

Jack had been completely flaccid, relying on his sleeve to pound Stacey but he began to grow from my stimulations. He didn't need to wear a condom, the sleeve preventing skin-on-skin contact inside her and providing a space to collect any ejaculate. Rather quickly, Jack stiffened and remained motionless; I knew he was coming. He has described such prostate massage orgasms as different from a conventional orgasm. Instead of body convulsions and pulsing ejaculations, a warm tingle spreads through his gut and he feels an uncontrollable flooding as if urinating. I experienced a euphoric feeling from a combination of clitoral stimulation from my end of my dildo and from taking my husband.

Jack was wore out so he withdrew from Stacey and laid down on his back. Stacey broke off from Lance to climb on top of Jack to take advantage of his tireless mechanical woodie. She looked at me, patted her ass, and encouraged me, "Do me now." As I cleaned my dildo in preparation, she had Lance kneel on the bed where she could reach him for more fellatio.

As I moved into position, I saw her legs opened wide to straddle Jack, her labia stretched around his cock-sleeve, and her juices wetting it as she rode up and down on it. Her cheeks were spread open, revealing her puckered anus. After I pushed into her, I grabbed her slender waist with both hands. Feeling her rhythm, I pulled her back and pushed my hips forward to accent my penetration. That she was a woman did not enhance or detract from my feeling of sexual power.

For a short time, all three of us were penetrating Stacey at the same time. Stacey enjoyed the bottom double penetration and her movements increased in intensity until she shuddered in orgasmic delight. After watching her receive pleasure, Lance apparently made a decision. He pulled away from her mouth and came around to stand near me as he rolled on a condom. I withdrew and helped apply ample lubrication.

Lance was about to get behind his mother but hesitated. He seemed uncertain how to get near enough without his legs coming in contact with Jack. I advised Stacey about his reluctance so she dismounted and took up a solitary stance at the end of the bed. Bent at the waist with her torso on the bed, she tilted her ass upward to him. I stood beside Lance while I coached him through gentle insertion and encouraged him through his first anal sex. Soon his hard, young cock was pounding her vigorously. She was moaning and offering her own encouraging words while her hand diddled with her clit.

I had my open hand caressing his glutes as they flexed. My hand slid down onto the back of his thigh, and then up inside to cup his balls. Softly fondling them, I held on as they swayed with his thrusts. When my knuckles were carried up against her open labia, I felt the heat and wetness of her arousal. I straightened my fingers so that three of them began slipping inside her vagina as his thrusts buried his cock in her other hole.

"Do you like fucking her ass? You're really getting her excited. I can feel how wet she is. See?" I pulled my hand up and smeared her wetness over his balls and all the way across his anus. He jerked mildly but never missed a beat.

Stacey began to cry out in orgasm. While Lance concentrated on her, I pulled off my strap-on, handed it to Jack, and wordlessly directed him to clean it for me. I moved back to Lance's side and lifted his hand to my wet slit. "Feel how wet my pussy is for you? I'm so horny, I'm going crazy."

I moved behind him and pressed my naked body against him. My hands reached around to tweak his nipples while mine poked into his back. I tilted my hips and dragged my pussy over his butt, spreading my wetness on him. When Stacey started to orgasm again, I backed away.

"Oh baby, fuck me. Come in my ass," she pleaded.

I grabbed his balls again. "Have you got any left in these for her, Shooter? Your mommy is begging for it."

He tried to trigger his orgasm but likely was tapped-out from the long night of sex. Even twenty-four year old men have a limit. I was going to use his desire to orgasm despite the difficulty to my advantage. I put my strap-on back on and applied a generous coating of warming gel. As a final step, I put another dollop of gel on my forefinger.

Standing at his side caressing his ass again, I kept my lubed finger from touching him at first. My hand swept around his balls and then slid straight up his crack. I let my finger smear the warming gel across his anus then return to rest teasingly on it. I felt his muscle pucker in resistance while his head turned to give me a questioning look.

"I'll stop the instant you ask me to," I told him. Then my free hand on his face pulled him to mine and I gave him a passionate kiss. As my tongue pushed into his mouth, my finger slid into his anus. I felt his sphincter squeezing against my probing but he said nothing. Stacey was beginning to moan.

"You want to make her happy, don't you Shooter? I can help you. I can make you come."

He looked at me but didn't speak. I took his silence as permission. Moving behind him, my hands shook with nervous excitement. I guided my dildo to his anus and pressed lightly. Lance stopped thrusting and tried to relax. I felt his sphincter give way and saw my dildo slide in a few inches.

"Wait," he gasped so I paused. I leaned forward to press my breasts against his back again. With a subtle pelvic tilt as I hugged him, I entered deeper. I had an idea when I was at the right depth to be rubbing his prostate, confirmed by his little gasps.

At that position, I stabilized my stance and my hands pushed his hips forward, his cock sliding into his mother's ass. I pulled him back, out of her and onto my dildo, and then pushing again. He understood he was to do all the moving, developing a rhythm to fuck her and himself with the same motion.

He began to whimper and appeared unable to concentrate on his body's fucking motion. I knew what was happening; I've seen it happen to my husband when I fuck his ass. Jack recognized the signs; he's been in Lance's position. Even Stacey appeared to know the meaning of his reactions; she was encouraging him to release his cum in her.

Lance was the only one going through it for the first time. Strange sensations overwhelmed him, taking over his body. Involuntarily, he stopped with his cock buried in his mother's ass while I used very short thrusts to bump on the sweet spot inside him. Standing like a statue, he groaned steadily for ten seconds; it meant he was orgasming in that bizarre manner.

Jack describes his prostate-massage-induced orgasms as the animal inside him having sex with his human brain disconnected. He doesn't know what his body will do each time but he enjoys the unusual sensations.

When Lance was able to regain his senses, he remarked, "You did it, Sandy. You made me come ... I think. It was the strangest feeling." We disengaged and the three of us collapsed onto the bed. Lance looked at his sheathed cock and exclaimed, "What the hell? Where's my cum? It felt like I pumped buckets but there's nothing." He pulled off his condom and we saw his cockhead wetted only by what amounted to a bit of precum.

Jack advised, "You had a dry orgasm. The stimulation released hormones to feel like an orgasm but your semen tank is empty."

While everyone was distracted, I was quietly cleaning the fecal residues from my dildo so I wouldn't get any on the bed. I had been close to orgasming from the clit stimulator end of my dildo pushing against me; I was still excited ... and horny. Handling my dildo while cleaning it had produced more stimulation. After I finished cleaning, I grabbed the dildo and pushed it around, mashing the stimulator forcibly on my clit.

Stacey noticed my movements. "What are you doing?"

"Masturbating." I couldn't ignore the urges even with three people now watching me. Unashamed, the exhibitionist in me chased one more release.

Stacey moved over, grabbed the dildo, and began assisting me. The wild woman had one more surprise for us when she spoke. "There's one hole you haven't fucked with this thing tonight." With that, she straddled my hips and impaled her pussy on my dildo. I was surprised she didn't need lubrication although my dildo is purposely small and slender.

Her hips rocked back and forth, pushing my dildo like a lever, pressing the small end into my clit. My orgasm was building fast. The fact that I was fucking another woman didn't add or subtract from my pleasure; I focused on reaching my climax. Stacey's crooked smile suggested she enjoyed the bi-sexual activity. Jack and Lance watched us with interest, no surprise there.

My orgasm was very strong, a fitting final act to conclude the hours of wild sex that I experienced to start a new year. As my arousal wound down, exhaustion took over. Jack had closed his eyes and seemed to fall asleep in seconds. Lance's eyelids drooped heavily. Only Stacey had energy to move. She got up to turn off the lights that were on. The last thing I remember was noticing that it was light outside.

The sound of the shower running woke me up. I smelled fresh brewed coffee. Looking around, I saw that Stacey and Lance were not in the bed. I went to the kitchen and found Stacey puttering around. She greeted me and asked if we were breakfast eaters. It was past lunchtime actually but I said something light such as toast would be all Jack and I wanted.

We spent a couple of hours eating, showering, and discussing the night's events. None of us wanted a mid-day encore but we discussed possible foursomes in the future. Jack and I went home about three o'clock in the afternoon.