0 comments/  201399 views/  15 favorites

Linda's All-Over Tan

By: quinn rogan



Now that I'm past the age of 50, and know a thing or two, I find it hard to believe what an innocent little soul I was about thirty years ago.

I left school at sixteen and started to work in a bank. It was the late sixties, and computers were just coming in. The bank became computerised and recruited from within for programmers. I took the aptitude test and passed, and was transferred to the computer centre, in Berkshire. 

I was a Northern lad, from Leeds, and reckoned I could teach these southern softies a thing or two. I had a steady girlfriend, Linda, who also worked in the bank. When I got my transfer, we decided we couldn't bear to be parted, so she got a transfer to a local branch, and we got married – this was in the days before unmarried couples could live together.

So we bought a small semi-detached house in a village on the outskirts of Reading and we had a year of fabulous sex. We had done it before we got married, but opportunities had been few and far between – I didn't even have a car then! – and now we suddenly had a whole house to run around naked in. Linda was a cracking-looking girl – quite small and slight, with long blonde hair and blue eyes, and a lovely pair of perky little tits and a little round bum you could stack a tea-service on!

We shagged ourselves silly in every room in the house and I thought of very little else but sex for the first few months of our marriage. Linda was pretty reserved, as a rule, but she could get very roused when we were 'at it' and I really began to think I was some sort of sex god.

We both played a bit of tennis and we joined the village club almost as soon as we arrived. Linda was really pretty good and she was soon turning out for the club's first team, while I made it into the seconds. The teams were both mixed double outfits, playing against other clubs in a twenty-mile radius.

My regular partner was a woman in her late thirties, called Jennifer St Clair, who was married to the local nob – a landed gentry type called Peter, who was a sort of gentleman farmer. He had been in the Army – the Guards, I think – and he had come out as a Major. They had two teenage kids, who were both away at boarding-school.

Jennifer and I got on O.K. She wasn't as 'posh' as he was – and she came from Yorkshire, too. Her parents had a farm in Swaledale. She was O.K. to look at, too – quite tall, with long athletic legs and really large, bouncy breasts. One of the bonuses of playing with her was the occasional glimpse of her cleavage when she bent down to pick up a ball.

We travelled to away matches by car and, usually, Jennifer commandeered the farm Land Rover and all six of us would squeeze in. One night towards the end of the season, though, she turned up at our house alone to pick me up. On the way, she explained that the other four were going on somewhere afterwards, so Geoff had taken his car.

I quite enjoyed riding in the front seat for a change – especially as Jennifer already had her tennis gear on and her skirt left practically all her long tanned thighs exposed as she drove along. Well, we played our match and Jennifer and I won the decisive last one to give us victory. The opposition entertained us to supper in a local pub and it was dark when we set off back home.

I had had a couple of pints and I was feeling quite good. Jennifer and I chatted about the match and she was very complimentary about the way I had played. I was still in my shorts and, once, she put her hand briefly on my thigh as she recalled a game-winning smash I had delivered.

She took it off again quite quickly but I immediately started wondering what she would do if I did the same thing to her. Honestly, although I had enjoyed my sneaky looks down her top, I hadn't even thought of trying anything on with her until that moment! But, while I was still thinking about it, and during a lull in our conversation, she put her hand back on my thigh and, this time, she left it there.

I couldn't think of anything to say, and she didn't say anything, either, so, after a few seconds, I reached across and put my hand on her thigh.

She glanced across at me and smiled, then pulled into the side of the road and stopped the Land Rover. It was very quiet once the engine had cut out. We were on a deserted country lane, tree-lined on both sides. Jennifer leaned across and her lips met mine.

Automatically, I returned her kiss, and lifted my hand off her leg to put my arms round her. To my astonishment, I felt her hand slide up my thigh and come to rest on my crotch. My cock, of course, began to get hard and she cupped her hand round it, through the material of my shorts.

My first thought was that, if she was feeling my cock, I could feel her tits, but, even so, I half-expected her to knock my hand away as I pushed it up between us. Then I felt the bulge in her shirt, and squeezed. After Linda's much smaller ones, they felt huge. I brought my other hand round and took one in each hand.

Jennifer broke off our kiss and smiled at me. "I thought they had caught your eye," she whispered. "Would you like to see them?"

"Yes, please," I replied, quite seriously, and she sat back and fiddled under her shirt. Her hands emerged, holding her bra, which she dropped on the back seat. She smiled again, then, with one movement, pulled her shirt over her head and dropped it in the back. Then she linked her fingers behind her head and said, "What do you think?"

Her large breasts stood out on her chest, her nipples and areolae dark against the milky-white skin. I said nothing, but leaned over and took one of her nipples in my mouth, while my hand closed over the warm softness of her other breast.

She breathed, – "That's nice" – and ran her fingers through my hair, pushing my face against her bare breast. Her nipple was quite small, but hard, and I ran my tongue over the end of it. My right hand squeezed her other breast harder and rolled her nipple between my thumb and index finger.

I felt Jennifer's breath on my neck and then her teeth lightly nibbled my earlobe. I raised my head and found her mouth again. Her full lips opened wide and her tongue found mine. I dropped my hand from her breast and found the inside of her thigh, just below her short tennis skirt.

I started to slide it up, but, suddenly, her hand caught mine and lifted it away. Her tongue withdrew from my mouth and she broke off our kiss.

"Let's not rush things," she said, gently. "We ought to be getting home."

I opened my mouth to speak but she put a finger on my lips.

"I'm a bit beyond all those gymnastics in the back seats of cars," she said. "Let's wait for a better time, and place."

I swallowed my disappointment, and nodded.

"Can you reach my shirt for me, please?" she asked and I obediently turned and picked it up off the back seat. Then I put it on my lap and took her large breasts in my hands. She smiled at me in the half-darkness.

"You like them, then?"

"Oh, yes," I replied. "They're lovely."

"Give them a goodnight kiss, then," she said, and I bent my head again and tongued each of her nipples in turn.

Then she put her shirt – but not her bra – back on again and started up the Land Rover. Ten minutes later, she dropped me outside my house.

Linda was keen to know how we had got on and I did my best to describe the match and to drive the memory of what had happened in the Land Rover to the back of my mind, but, once Linda and I were in bed, and I was fondling Linda's small firm tits, it was the memory of Jennifer's big soft ones which stiffened my rod as it slid between Linda's parted thighs. …………………………………………………………………………………………………………

I wondered how I was going to make any progress with Jennifer. I didn't see her for the next three days, and then she was almost driven from my mind when Linda's widowed mother was diagnosed with inoperable cancer and, three weeks later, she was dead.

It was a terrible time. She had only just turned 50 and Linda took it terribly hard. Tennis was out – for both of us – for the rest of the season and we spent most of the autumn going up and down to Yorkshire, sorting things out, along with Linda's elder brother, who lived in London.

Eventually, early in the New Year, the house was sold and, when the estate was all sorted out, Linda and her brother got just over £10,000 each – a lot of money, in these days. Linda had lost a lot of enthusiasm for work, and she took the opportunity the money gave her to resign, and applied to go to university the next autumn to study languages and, eventually, to teach them.

She left work at the end of March and began to brush up her languages at home. She also began to get back to her normal self and, thank goodness, our sex life, which had suffered badly, took off again. Linda had lost a little weight, but her tits and her bum were still perky and rounded, and we were soon 'at it' in every corner of the house again.

For some reason, too, Linda became much more imaginative, conversationally, in bed, and began to develop a taste for crude language and describing imaginary situations to turn me on. One of her favourite fantasies was that she was a waitress for four rich Arabs in a private dining-room in a posh hotel – wearing all the little black dress and white apron stuff – and, after an evening of her trying to stop their hands sliding up her thighs while she served them, they eventually converged on her, stripped her totally naked - ignoring her tears and protests - and then made her continue serving them, naked, while they felt her all over. Then, after they had had their coffee, they bent her over the table and, lifting their robes, took her, one by one, doggy-fashion, with their impossibly long, brown, hard cocks.

I found this very erotic, despite my misgivings about enjoying the thought of my wife having sex with other men, and our sex life became even more enriched.

She started tennis again and, because she could play during the day, quickly regained her form. She also began to get quite friendly with Jennifer and often went back to her house with her for a coffee, or lunch, after they had played. Jennifer's 'house' was actually not far short of a mansion – it was a large sprawling farmhouse, with a huge garden, and a fenced-round swimming-pool.

This was in the summer of 1977, which was pretty well wall-to-wall sunshine, and she soon had an early-season tan. One night, while she was stripping for bed, I noticed that her breasts and bottom, while not as tanned as the rest of her, were not milky-white, either. For some reason, this excited me and I started touching her up as soon as she got in beside me.

As always, these days, she was ready for me and, after tonguing her erect little nipples for a while, I asked her about her 'all-over tan'.

She chuckled throatily and, after teasing me for a while, she admitted that, for the last week or two, she and Jennifer had been spending most afternoons swimming, and sunbathing, nude, in Jennifer's pool.

"Do you like my tanned tits?" she asked, her hand snaking down to feel my cock.

"Yes," I breathed, nuzzling her neck as her fingers caressed the underside of my erection. "And your bum!"

She giggled. 

"You should see Jennifer's!" she said, then let out a mock squeal of protest as she felt my cock jerk in her hand. For an awful second or two, I felt as if she could read my mind, which had instantly replayed the excitement of the moment when Jennifer had exposed her tits to me in the Land Rover more than six months ago.

Linda squeezed my cock, hard, and then said – "Oh, I don't blame you. She has got gorgeous big tits – and they're so firm! I wish mine were like that. I'd love to have big breasts like that."

"What – so that all the men would look at you?" I said, more to steer the conversation away from Jennifer's big tits than anything else.

"Oh, yes," she breathed, her hand now cupping my balls. "Yes – all looking at me, and stripping me with their eyes."

"They do that now," I said, becoming turned on, myself, by this twist in the conversation. My mouth had dried a little.

"Do they?" breathed Linda, her mouth now circling my nipples and biting them, gently. "Do other men wonder what I look like, naked?"

"Yes," I murmured. "I see them trying to look under your tennis skirt when you play a smash, and they can see the tops of your thighs, and your panties stretched tight across your lovely round bum. And when you bend down to pick up the balls, and your t-shirt falls forward and they see the tops of your breasts ..."

"Oh," she whispered. "They're really trying to see my tits, are they? Maybe, next time, I won't wear a bra, then they'll be able to see my nipples."

That was the moment when I changed from a jealous, possessive husband into – what? 

I didn't know, then – all I knew was, when I thought of my pretty little blonde wife getting a thrill out of leaning forward so that some guy could sneak a look at her tits, I felt a charge go through my balls like an electric shock and my cock turned into a rigid pole.

"Would you like that?" I managed to mutter. Suddenly, my tongue was furred and I had difficulty getting the words out.

"Oh, yes," whispered Linda. "And then, when I'd finished playing, I'd go into the long grass behind the pavilion with one of them – no, two – and we'd play 'you show me yours and I'll show you mine' and ... " - but she never did finish her fantasy as, overcome by the strength of the image she was building up in my mind, I gripped Linda's shoulders, forcing her on to her back, then thrust my knee between her thighs to spread her legs apart and drove my prick inside her. She gasped with surprise, but she was very moist and her tight cunt muscles gripped me as I thrust in and out of her.

I was still speaking, between gasps – I don't recall exactly what I was saying, but I do know that, in my mind, it was another man on top of Linda, driving his huge hard cock inside her, and this image brought me quickly to a shuddering climax, with stars bursting in my brain.

I don't know if Linda came, too, that night. I fell on top of her, completely spent and, the next thing I knew, it was morning, and I was on my own in the bed. I could hear Linda downstairs and my heart dropped as the events of the previous night came back to me.

How could I get turned on by thinking of her with someone else? What kind of husband – what kind of man – was I? But, even as my conscience grappled with the problem, I felt my cock begin to stir as the images returned. Despite myself, my hand slid down to grip my tool and I only just managed to grab a paper tissue before I came. I had never wanked since our marriage – what was happening to me?

I got up and had a shower, then, with some trepidation, went downstairs. But Linda was absolutely normal. She made no reference to the previous night, but her good-morning kiss was as warm and loving as always.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………

And life went on, more or less, normally. That night, when we went to bed, I stayed off the subject of Linda and other men, and was rewarded with a graphic description of the wide dark bush of pubic hair between Jennifer's thighs. On future occasions, to avoid what was now a 'forbidden' topic for me, Linda was happy to describe the naked bodies of other women and girls at the tennis club, which I found a real turn-on.

Sometimes, she would take it a little further and ask me how I would like to get my hands on somebody's tits, or feel them up between the legs, and this fantasising always led to a really good fuck session between us.

I met Jennifer occasionally at the club, and she was always friendly, but nothing more. We no longer played in the same team – I was now in the first team, with Linda, although we didn't play as a couple – so Jennifer and I were never alone together, now. I assumed that, now she was so friendly with Linda, anything between us was now out of the question. Anyway, my sex life with Linda was so good, I didn't really have any regrets.

In the early summer, Jennifer and Peter went off on a short holiday, and Linda agreed to feed their cats every day. On the Saturday morning, she was busy in the house, and she asked me to do it. I said I would, and asked her what I had to do.

She handed me a key.

"You go in through the gate from the lane at the top of their property," she said. "You'll need the key to get in."

I didn't understand, and Linda explained that the gates at the front of the house were padlocked, while the St Clairs were away, and it was much easier to enter their property, which had a high stone wall all around its perimeter, by going through the big wooden door set into the wall on the northern boundary, on a little-used lane. From there, you went through a little copse of trees, and emerged at the top of a little hill, which overlooked the back of the house. The cats lived in an outhouse by the kitchen, and the food was there.

Well, since I was going to enter by the lane, which was just at the back of our estate, I didn't have to take the car – a ten-minute walk saw me by the big door in the high wall, and the key turned easily. The door swung open and I found myself in the welcome shade of the little stand of trees. A path led through them for about fifteen or twenty yards, then, suddenly, I was at the top of a little hill, looking down at the back of the house, the sun glinting at me, reflected by the blue water in the swimming pool. 

I walked down the hill, located the outhouse, and left the cat food in three trays on the floor. There was no sign of the cats. 

As I made my way back, I tried the handle of the door in the fence which surrounded the pool, but it was locked. I was curious to see where my wife and Jennifer spent their afternoons, naked, and my balls tightened a little at the thought. I glanced back at the house. The pool had a six-foot fence all round, so anything inside could not be seen from ground level, but it was obvious that the first floor windows would offer an excellent view.

I wondered if Peter had ever ... Again, my balls tightened and my mouth dried. I knew, if I had been him – and if I knew my wife had a female friend naked in there – I wouldn't be able to resist the chance of a voyeur's look. Had Jennifer told Peter about her afternoon sessions with Linda? Well, Linda had told me ...

I was at the top of the hill, now. I turned and looked down. The pool was in full view – especially the lounging area nearest the house, farthest away from where I was, now. 'Jesus!' I thought. I felt the key in my pocket. My heart began to beat, very fast.

I hurried through the trees, opened and locked the gate, and made my way home, at a quick trot. Letting myself into the house, I called to Linda that I was going into the town to get a newspaper. She called back "OK" and I jumped into the car.

Half an hour later, I was back, with the Daily Mail – and a duplicate of the key to the door in the lane. I had already tried it out to make sure it worked, and it was now safely jammed under the driver's seat of the car. I was sure the St Clairs seldom used that door and that I should be able to come and go unobserved, if I was careful.

Also, the trees would give excellent cover. The only thing was the distance down the hill, which must have been about a hundred yards, but I had already made up my mind to buy a pair of binoculars. I was really trembling in anticipation as I re-entered the house.

On Monday, I spent my lunch-hour looking for a small, but good, pair of binoculars and eventually I found what I wanted. I decided to keep them in my office desk, for now, as I had figured out that my most likely time would be mid-afternoon, and I would make some excuse to leave work early, taking the binoculars with me.

I managed to stop myself asking when Jennifer and Peter would be coming back and, on Thursday, my patience was rewarded when Linda told me that Jennifer had called to say they were back. In a casual way, I asked if Linda would be playing tennis with Jennifer the next day, but she said Jennifer's sister and her husband had come back with them, and would be staying the weekend. Linda had a game fixed up with someone else, though, and wouldn't be home until after five.


Linda's All-Over Tan (Conclusion)



We went upstairs and lay on the bed, while the evening sunlight streamed through the window. I slipped my hands up the back of Linda's tennis shirt, feeling for her bra-strap. She wasn't wearing one! She giggled.

"There didn't seem to be much point," she said. "I've been round at Jennifer's pool most of the afternoon."

"Were you – naked?" I whispered, thinking I was being cunning, feigning ignorance. Linda nodded, as my hands crept under the front of her shirt and jiggled her braless breasts.

"So was Jennifer," she said. "Don't you wish you could put your hands under her shirt, like this? Give her big tits a squeeze?"

"Yes," I breathed. "Did she get them squeezed at that dinner party?"

"No," said Linda. "Nobody tried to touch her – but I suppose Peter did, when they got home!"

Her hand crept down to my cock again, and she unzipped my trousers and slipped it inside.

"How do you know Peter doesn't watch you when you're sunbathing – up there?" I asked. 

Linda went quiet, then said – "If it hadn't been for what Jennifer told me today, I'd have said - 'because she would make sure he couldn't' - , but now ..."

"Now?" I said. "Now – you're not so sure?"

"I think she'd try to make sure we only did it when he's not around, but I think, if he actually told her to fix it, she wouldn't be able to refuse him. You wouldn't believe how much she does what she's told!"

"So she could have done it already?"

"What?"

"Fixed it for him to spy on you – when you were naked!"

Again, Linda went quiet. Then she took my cock out of my trousers and said, softly – "And how would you feel, if she had?"

I felt my cock jerk, despite my attempts to stop it. Linda felt it, too, and her fingers held it a little more tightly. Then I felt them move up and down the rigid shaft.

"He could, you know," she whispered. "All the first floor windows at the back of the house have a clear view of where we sit. Oh, Jennifer always says he's out, but he could be up there, looking down at us. I bet he's even got a pair of binoculars, so he could be seeing me as close as you are now – looking at my tits, or between my legs. He could be looking right up my cunt!"

I felt the pressure building up in me, and I grabbed her hand and pulled it off my prick. She laughed, softly.

"You were really turned on when I told you about the boys feeling my tits, before I met you, weren't you?" she asked. "And now," she pressed on, relentlessly, "you're thinking about Peter spying on me, while I'm lying beside his pool – naked!"

I tried to deny it. I had been trying to deny it to myself for weeks, but the thudding of my heart betrayed me. I shook my head, miserably.

"It excites me, you know," Linda said, gently, her hand creeping inside my shirt, "thinking that you're turned on by the thought of me – with someone else."

"I'm not!" I tried to protest.

"Your cock says different," she murmured. It had softened a little and she put her hand back on it, holding it lightly between her fingers. My perfidious cock stiffened again and Linda bent her head and kissed the end of it. She looked up into my face.


"Now you just lie there," she smiled "and think about Peter, standing at the bedroom window, with his binoculars pointing between my legs, and playing with his big hard cock while he stares at my open vagina."

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………

From then on, bedtime became story time. Linda had been, by the standards of the day, a pretty sexually active teenager and, while a lot of her stories were just about guys who had had one-on-one feels of her tits in the cinema, or in the lane behind her house, others were more daring, occasionally involving hands going up her thighs, inside her panties, and stroking her moist young vagina.

I knew she wasn't a virgin when I met her, but I had never asked for details of who had been there before me, and she never went as far as describing being fucked. She didn't need to – once I could picture the scene as one of these boys managed to undo her bra and get his hands on her fresh young tits, it was only a matter of time before I shot my load inside her, or, less often, onto her body, with her strong little hand milking every last drop of cum out of me.

And, every so often, the story would be a little more sexy – like the time when she went out with an older guy in a foursome, which ended up with the four of them in one car. Linda was in the back seat with her bloke, with the other couple in the front. Linda had only met the other two that night – the two boys were mates – so, although this guy had had her bra off before, she stopped him, at first, when he tried to feel her tits. Then she saw that the other girl was getting hers felt, and relented.

But, as soon as he had her tits out, her date grabbed her arms and invited his mate to have a look at them. The boy and the girl in front both turned and leaned over the back of their seat, and the girl told him to have a feel, if he wanted to. So he leaned over and squeezed Linda's tits, then the other two came into the back seat, as well, and both girls were stripped naked to the waist, and had their tits felt by each of the boys.

Linda said she was too shy, and frightened, to really protest and it was only because the other girl wouldn't let either of the boys get his hand up her skirt that Linda didn't have to contend with their hands trying to get into her knickers.

As she had guessed, though, her story really hit the button with me and, because it was a long time ago, she now remembered it as much more sexy than scary.

I also kept using my key to spy on the St Clairs' pool. Sometimes I called by when I knew Linda wouldn't be there, just on the off-chance. To be truthful, I was finding that spying on just Linda and Jennifer was becoming a bit routine. Twice, I was rewarded by seeing a third woman in their company – both members of the tennis club and, while neither of them was spectacular to look at, it was a real thrill to see them without their clothes, especially when I would see them some other time, with their husband, and children, and could visualise what they looked like, naked.

But, another time, I had a kind of a bad experience. When I arrived, there were two nude female figures swimming in the pool. I didn't recognise them, in the water, then they pulled themselves out. I focussed my glasses on the taller one. She was slim, with long dark hair clinging damply to her head. She had small firm breasts, with tiny pink nipples, a boyish kind of bottom and a fluffy brown pubic triangle. She was very attractive and my cock reacted predictably, hardening inside my trousers.

Then I realised who they were. They were Jennifer's daughters, Kate and Amy, and I knew, from the tennis club that Kate was still pretty young.

I snatched the glasses down. What was I turning into? It was one thing sneaking a look at naked mature women, but I had had the beginnings of a hard-on, watching a young girl! Even without the glasses, I could see them standing at the side of the pool, talking – and I was sorely tempted to have one more look at Kate's firm little breasts. In self-disgust, I crammed the glasses back in their case, and bolted back to the car.

Once I was safely home, I vowed never to go back. But, an hour later, I had amended that to promising myself to leave straight away if the two youngsters were there. And, later that night, I had practically forgotten the incident altogether.

We had been talking about Peter and Jennifer before we went to bed, and Linda said she had another story about them to tell me, but it would be better told 'later on'.

So I went to bed with a keen sense of anticipation, but, as usual, Linda demanded a lot of foreplay before she started talking. So my middle finger was stroking her clit as she started to talk, and her tale was punctuated with excited little gasps as I occasionally 'hit the spot'.

"It was after they had been in Singapore for almost a year," she started. "They were keen tennis players then, as well, and they were probably pretty good – they were both younger, then, and fitter. They played together in the mixed doubles at the club, and they won the championship. About a week later, Peter came home and said he had entered them in a 'special' competition. Jennifer didn't think much about it, until one of the other wives called her and giggled a lot when she talked about it."

"Jennifer asked her what the joke was, and this other woman eventually said that it was called the 'fast mixed doubles' because it was only the swingers who entered, usually. Jennifer asked why and the woman said that one of the rules was that, when a couple lost, the losing lady had to join both of the men in the shower afterwards!"

Her hand slipped down and cuddled my erection. My mouth drying, I eased my middle finger into the opening of her vagina, and found it soaking! I slipped it inside, and Linda moaned with pleasure, squeezing my penis in her excitement.

"Did they go on with it?" I asked, throatily, and she nodded. Taking a deep breath, she said, a bit shakily, "Jennifer tried to discuss it with Peter, but he just brushed her aside and, as usual, she just did what he said. The only good thing, from her point of view, was that they were far better players than any of the others, so she shouldn't have to – you know!"

I nodded. "Yeah – get into the shower and have her big tits soaped by two blokes at once!" I laughed, and Linda laughed, too.

"You should be so lucky!" she retorted. Then she added – "I've felt them – no, not like that! I've put her sun-tan oil on them for her?"

"What did they feel like?" I asked, my hands remembering.

"Oh, a bit soft, and floppy," Linda replied. "Not half as nice as mine!"

"Yeah," I agreed, raising my spare hand and giving one of them a squeeze. Then I had a thought.

"Did she … do it to you?"

"No," said Linda. "I always put my own oil on. She offered, but ... I didn't want her to."

"Pity," I said, then – "What happened, anyway – about the tennis tournament?"

"Well, they won their first match, easily. It was against an older couple, but Jennifer felt awful when the other woman went back into the ladies' dressing-room with her and put down her racket and picked up her towel and went next door into the mens'. She got showered and changed, then had to wait for Peter in the bar. He arrived about half an hour later, but he didn't say what had happened, and she didn't dare ask him. But he made love to her, as usual, that night, but she was wondering, all the time, whether he had been inside that woman, earlier on."

"But, the very next match they played, they lost! Jennifer said it was just one of those things. They didn't get off to a good start, which made Peter bad-tempered, which made Jennifer nervous, and that, along with her already being nervous about what would happen if they lost, really affected her game and, before she knew it, they were walking off the court."

"She said she was in a daze as she went into the dressing-room, but she just did what her last opponent had done. She put her racket down beside her clothes, picked up her washbag and towel, and went over to the mens' dressing-room. She was shaking as she went up the steps. When she reached the door, she didn't know if she should knock, but, after a second's hesitation, she did."

"Peter opened it and stood back to let her come in. He didn't say a word, and Jennifer knew he was still annoyed about losing the match. She walked in and Peter followed her. The other man, who Jennifer had met a few times, looked nervous, but, as far as Jennifer could see, not at all hesitant. Peter began to take off his tennis kit, and so did the other man. Jennifer took a big breath and started taking off her shoes and socks."

At this point, Linda, herself, took a deep breath, and I knew that, in her mind, she was feeling the scared excitement that Jennifer had no doubt felt as she began to strip off her clothes in front of two men.

"Then she looked up," Linda continued. "Both men were ahead of her. Their shirts were already off and they were both fiddling with their shorts. Jennifer turned her back and pulled her shirt over her head. Then she undid the button at the back of her skirt, and stepped out of it. When she turned round again, she was alone – they had both finished undressing and they were both in the shower. Jennifer nearly lost her nerve, but she knew she couldn't leave. She was too scared of what Peter might do."

"So she took off the rest of her clothes – glad, at least, that she didn't have to strip in front of the other man. Then she picked up her towel and held it against her and walked into the shower room. It was quite small, an open area with three or four hot showers one beside the other, and a cold one at the end. The men – Peter and the other one, who was called Neville, were in adjacent showers, soaping themselves. When she came in, Peter called out – 'Put your towel on the bench'. She was shaking so much, she was sure they would notice, but neither of them said anything. She turned away, to put her towel down, then realised she was exposing her naked bottom."

"She nearly started to cry then, and threw down the towel, thinking that, once she was under the shower, they wouldn't notice any tears. Then she automatically hurried over to share Peter's shower and nearly cried with relief when he put his arms round her. Then she felt his soapy hands on her breasts and felt him ease her round to face Neville, in the next shower."

"Peter put his hand under her arms to massage her breasts and Jennifer realised she couldn't cover herself – down below. Then he held out the soap to Neville and, as Neville stepped towards her, Jennifer felt Peter's erection pressing against her. She looked down at Neville and saw that his cock was standing up, as well, then Peter took his hands off her breasts and Neville began to soap them."

"Jennifer's mind was in a complete whirl – she just couldn't believe she was standing, naked, beside her husband, while another man's hands were slithering all over her bare breasts. Then she felt Peter take hold of her wrist and guide her hand to his cock. She closed her fingers round it. It was very hard. Then, her heart sank as Peter gripped her other wrist and pushed her hand towards Neville. She felt his erection brush against the back of her hand, and Peter snarled in her ear – 'Take hold of it.'"

I felt Linda's fingers close, convulsively, on my own erection, and knew, again, that she was re-living Jennifer's scary, but exciting, experience.

"She opened her fingers and closed them round his knob. It wasn't as big as Peter's, but it was the first time she had ever held another man's cock, and she was so choked, she could scarcely breathe. But then it got worse. Neville lowered the hand holding the soap to between Jennifer's legs and he began to soap her bush and run his finger along the lips of her vagina. Then he started using both hands, pushing them right under her so that he was soaping her bottom as well as her vagina, his fingers running right along between her legs, front and back. Then Peter grabbed her tits again and she could feel both men hard up against her, their hands all over her."

"She had let go of their cocks by then and she could feel them pressing against her. Then Peter got behind her and pushed her shoulders down. She knew what that meant – he wanted to have her from behind. She knew it was useless to refuse him, so she bent from the waist, keeping her legs open. When she did that, Neville took his hands away and, as Jennifer bent forward, she saw Neville grip his penis in her hand and she wondered if he would want her to put it in his mouth. She had never done that with Peter, but she knew that some people did it, and the idea revolted her – even with Peter, let alone this man."

"But, as she felt Peter's cock enter her from behind, Neville held the bar of soap out to her and she was so relieved not to have to take his cock into her mouth, she took hold of it and began lathering his penis, and his testicles, with both hands, masturbating his cock to try to make him ejaculate before Peter, in case he wanted to put it inside her, as well. Neville reached under her and felt her tits as she wanked him, and Peter was hardly really inside her when Neville exploded and cum started shooting out of the end of his cock. Jennifer held on to his cock until she felt it begin to soften, then she let it go."

"Neville staggered back to the next shower and began to wash himself again. When Peter saw he had finished, he pulled out of Jennifer, even though he was still hard, and said – 'Right, that's it – honour satisfied. I'll meet you in the bar in twenty minutes.' Jennifer pulled on her shirt and skirt and wrapped her hair in the towel and fled back to the ladies' changing-room. When she met Peter in the bar, the other couple had gone, and Peter didn't talk about what had happened – but, on the way home, he stopped the car, pulled Jennifer out, and took her into the trees, where he stripped her naked and fucked her, standing up against a tree!"

The last few words came out in a gabbled rush as Linda's voice rose with excitement. I couldn't believe I was hearing those words from her. It was unthinkable that Linda should express herself like that – " ... he stripped her naked and fucked her ... " She never used the f-word – she was really gone, I realised.

I grabbed my opportunity.

"You liked that bit when she had two dicks in her hands, didn't you?" I breathed into her ear, my finger stroking her slippery clitoris.

"Oh, yes," gasped Linda. "A big hard cock in each hand – and four hands all over me, squeezing my tits and fingering my cunt!"

"Who would you want the men to be?" I persisted.

"Oh, you," she stammered out between shaky breaths, "because you'd be so hard watching me holding the other man's cock while he felt my tits."

"And who would the other man be?" I probed.

"Oh, it would have to be Peter!" Her voice shook again, and rose, almost hysterically.

"Why Peter?"

"Because Jennifer says he has a huge cock and … and ... "

"And what?" I asked, although I half knew the answer.

"And … because he would just – take me. He'd walk over to me, his big cock sticking up in front of him, and he'd spread my legs and ... " 

Linda's voice gave out and she shuddered wildly in the throes of a palpitating orgasm. It went on for ages, her hand clamped between her legs while I grasped her breasts, like a drowning man.

Strangely, I didn't come, myself. Watching Linda having the strongest orgasm I'd ever seen her have was very sexy, but I wasn't tempted to join her. I wanted her to go on talking once she had recovered, and maybe tell me something else which would get me going again.

But I was doomed to disappointment. When she finally shuddered to a halt, she curled up in a ball and was almost instantly asleep. Amazingly, I curled up, too, and, before I knew it, light was streaming through the window and the alarm clock was shrilling.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………

The next night, though, without any prompting from me, Linda started talking, again, about Peter and Jennifer and, although there weren't any more stories like the dinner party or the tennis match, she went on about various times Peter had shagged Jennifer in strange places, or strange times.

He would often make her go somewhere without panties on – like a formal dinner, or dance, so that he could lift her dress and give her a quick fuck during the evening. Sometimes he would take her outside wherever they were and just pull up her dress and give her against a wall, or a tree. More than once, he had pulled her into the Gents, in a posh hotel, and made her straddle his cock while he sat on the toilet seat, playing with her tits.




Linda's All-Over Tan (Conclusion)



Linda kept talking about the size of his cock, and how he was like an animal when he fucked his wife, and I didn't have to be a genius to work out that, if he ever decided he wanted to fuck Linda, he had a better than even chance of succeeding. What I didn't know was how I felt about it. Well, I did, really. I had enough self-respect to hate the thought of my wife being a pushover for another man, but – I couldn't help getting turned on by the thought of his hands molesting her firm little tits, and her spreading her thighs wide to receive Peter's big hard cock in her tight slippery slit.

So I encouraged her to repeat her fantasy of the previous night, where she had to share a shower with Peter and me and, without much persuading, she took it to the point where she had her arms clasped round his neck, with him standing up, holding her to him while she slid down his body and was impaled on his rod, while the water beat down on both of them. I made sure that, this time, my own cock was buried deep in her wet and willing cunt as she described how Peter's would fill every centimetre of her and, as she gasped out how it would feel, I had a glorious climax, closely followed by her.

And, the very next afternoon, I discovered that she didn't have to imagine quite as much as I had thought!

I saw from the calendar that Linda had a game arranged with Jennifer, so I made my way to my vantage point in the trees, arriving just before four o'clock. I trained the glasses on the loungers, and the first thing I saw was Peter! He was naked, stretched out on his back, wearing only sunglasses. I could see Jennifer, also totally naked, on the lounger beside him – and, in the pool, a small figure was swimming back to the end where they both sat.

Before she pulled herself out, I knew it was Linda, but now, at the moment of truth, I was praying that it was somebody else. But there was no mistaking her peach bottom and long hair, even though it was darkened by the water. But what really shocked me was the way she emerged from the water and stood, unconcerned by her nakedness, right in front of Peter and Jennifer, talking to them.

She picked up a towel, but didn't cover herself with it. Instead, she drew it across her shoulders and back, moving her body as she dried herself. I could imagine how her tits were jiggling as she moved and, for the first time, I thought to have a look at Peter's famous cock.

I was relieved to see he didn't have an erection, but I had to admit that, even unaroused, it was pretty big. It was uncircumcised, lying along his thigh, just above a pair of heavy, full testicles. I couldn't really guess at its length, but I reckoned a good six, maybe seven, inches – and it was thick. Like the rest of his powerful, fit body, his balls and his pubic region were covered with black hair, which reinforced the impression he gave of raw animal power.

I focussed back on to his face. His expression was blatantly wolfish as he watched my wife towel her naked body, right in front of him. My heart lurched – or sank – I didn't know which. There was no question that he wanted to fuck her. I checked his cock again. It wasn't hard, but it seemed bigger than when I had last looked. 

What would I do if he reached out a hand to touch Linda? I was convinced, now, that Jennifer wouldn't do anything to stop it. In fact, from what Linda had told me about putting sun-tan oil on Jennifer's tits, then her trying to do the same to Linda, I wasn't even sure that Jennifer wouldn't join in. And, despite myself, my cock was rock-hard as I anticipated what might happen.

But, in the event, nothing did. Linda wrapped her towel around herself and – strangely – covered herself with it as she slipped on her t-shirt and shorts and gathered up her belongings. She waved to the recumbent Peter as Jennifer accompanied her to her car, but he was deep in his newspaper again, and hardly noticed her go.

In bed that night, Linda seemed a bit abstracted and, although we fucked, she wasn't talkative and I convinced myself that, when my cock entered her, it was Peter's she was thinking about .... 

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………

On the following Tuesday, having checked the calendar to see that Linda had another game arranged with Jennifer, I again arranged an early finish from work, and was at my now familiar station just before four o'clock.

Again, the three of them were there, at the house end of the pool. Jennifer was closest to the exit, on a lounger, lying on her back, completely naked, her legs dangling down each side, giving me a fabulous view of her open vagina. My cock stiffened as I zoomed in on the glistening pink lips, and prominent labia, nestling in her dark brown bush.

Then I moved to her right, where Peter was stretched out on a sort of mattress, reading a newspaper. He, too, was naked, with one leg bent up at the knee, and I lingered, a bit enviously, on his strong, thick uncircumcised penis, dangling down to the right of his heavy testicles. Then I shifted again, to where Linda lay on her front on another lounger, her little peach bottom upraised, her legs closed, her arms stretched above her head. She might have been asleep.

Minutes passed, during most of which I kept my glasses fixed on Jennifer, who was shifting position occasionally, giving me a chance to see her firm breasts jiggle. Then there was a movement to her left and I shifted over, to see Peter folding his newspaper and putting it down.

He leant over and took a drink from his wine glass, then he looked over at Linda, then back at his wife. It wasn't long before he caught Jennifer's eye. Their eyes met and he motioned with his head for her to join him on the mattress. Jennifer hesitated, glancing at Linda, then swung her legs off the lounger and lay down beside her husband.

My heart was beating like a trip hammer. Even from this distance, I could sense an atmosphere of sexual tension. Although nothing was said, Linda raised her head as Jennifer moved position and, as she lay down, Linda, I could see, was watching closely.

Philip and Jennifer were now lying side by side, Philip leaning towards her, on his elbow. I watched as his hand casually touched her leg, just above the knee, then feathered upward along her inner thigh. She was lying on her back, her thighs slightly parted. Philip's hand trailed back and forward along her thigh, then gently cupped her pubic forest, his middle finger dipping down into the open slit.

Linda was now lying on her side, curled up into a ball, openly watching. One hand was crossed protectively over her breasts, the other between her legs, whether protectively or not I couldn't tell. Her face was rapt, with a frown of concentration. Her tongue ran round her lips – a sure sign, to me that she was sexually aroused. But she wasn't shocked. I could tell that this was not a new experience for her. What had been going on up to this point, I wondered?

But I didn't really care. I was at least as aroused as Linda. I had never seen a naked man and woman together before, which was exciting enough, but watching my wife participate – even if it was only watching – was absolutely mind-blowing!

Peter's cock was hardening, very visibly. It was now jutting out, pointing towards his naked wife, and I think he said something because Jennifer raised her shoulders slightly, without shifting her lower body, and reached across to take hold of it in her left hand. She held it lightly, in her finger-ends, manipulating his foreskin very slowly and gently.

Her face was also raised now, and their mouths met in a deep kiss, during which Peter's hand left her vagina and closed over her left breast, squeezing it, hard. Then he got on to his knees and Jennifer spread her legs wide and he knelt between them. She was still holding his erect cock and, as his knees bent further, she guided it to the lips of her open vulva, and he sank it deep inside her.

Peter's rhythm was getting faster, but it was Jennifer who climaxed first, her body shaking wildly, her legs clamped like a vice round her husband's pistoning hips. Peter rolled over, on his back, and it was evident from the now shiny penis sticking up in the air, that he had managed to restrain his climax. I realised that that was more than I had done. The front of my trousers was stained and sticky – I had clearly ejaculated, myself, but my cock, like Peter's, was still hard and ready.

But ready for what? I focussed my glasses back on Linda. She hadn't moved. She was still lying on her side, on the lounger, curled up, one hand between her thighs, but now her expression was uncertain, and a little fearful – and I could see her eyes were fixed on Peter's impressive shiny erection.

My mind was in a turmoil. It would be the most erotic thing imaginable if she were to walk across and finish him off – even she only masturbated him to climax while he played with her delicate little tits. What if she – mind-blowing! – were to sit astride him, feeding that monster up into her tight little pussy?

But then Jennifer stirred. Rolling on to her side, she placed her hand round Peter's member and began to slowly move it up and down. After a few moments, she dipped her head and closed her lips round the end of it. Her hand moved faster then, suddenly, Peter's legs stiffened and Jennifer's mouth slid further down his cock. He jerked a few times and Jennifer deliberately milked the last few drops from him, then withdrew her face and gently laid his softening penis back on his stomach.

She glanced across at Linda, and I moved the glasses. To my astonishment, Linda was lying on her back on the lounger, her legs splayed wide apart, the fingers of one hand flying across her erect little clitoris, the other squeezing her left breast, pulling her nipple savagely. Her head was thrown back, her mouth wide open, then, suddenly, she jacknifed her thighs shut, trapping her hand between them, and her whole body went into spasm.

Peter and Jennifer was standing by the lounger, watching her, Jennifer's hand idly playing with his long, limp cock. At last, Linda came to rest, with a final shudder, then she opened her eyes and smiled up at the pair of them. She rose from the lounger, then, without a word being said, both Jennifer and Linda dived into the pool. Almost immediately, Peter stood up and, wrapping a towel round him, left the pool area and disappeared into the house.

Suddenly, I knew I had to settle this, one way or the other. It had all gone too far. I took my binoculars down and slowly walked away. I let myself out of the gate, locked it, then threw the key back over the wall. I got into the car and drove home, slowly.

Linda came home about an hour later and realised, as soon as she walked through the door, that things were not normal.

"You're early," she said, with an attempt at nonchalance. "Is everything OK?"

Despite my frantic rehearsals of this conversation during the past hour, I still hadn't worked out how to bring the subject up.

"Not really," I mumbled – and then Linda shocked me to the core!

"Have you bought a pair of binoculars recently?" she asked.

I looked at her, stupefied. The answer to her question must have been written right across my face.

"It was you, then," she said, in a low voice. "I thought I saw someone about a fortnight ago – and you were home early, that day. And then, today, I did see a flash of sunlight reflecting, then somebody moving back out of the trees. He looked as if he was wearing a pink shirt and I suddenly remembered you were wearing that red and white striped one .... "

I nodded my head, slowly.

"I don't suppose you'll believe this," I said, "but I actually did it so that I could look at you – without you knowing I was looking. But – then – well .... "

Without a word, Linda pulled off her t-shirt, and slipped her shorts over her hips. She stood before me, naked. I was conscious that it was broad daylight and that the sunlight was streaming in through the open windows of our small lounge. Despite the situation, I felt a thrill course through me as I thought that anyone could pass by and see her ….

I waved a hand, ineffectually, at the windows.

"Linda," I said. "Anyone could .... "

She gave me a long look, then turned away and made for the bedroom. I followed, my cock twitching as I watched her little tanned bottom swaying ahead of me.

She sat down on the edge of the bed, looking at the floor.

"He hasn't fucked me, John – Peter, I mean. I haven't let him fuck me .... "

Her shoulders shook and I sat beside her, putting my left arm round her shoulders.

"What's been going on?" I asked. She looked up at me, her face tear-stained.

"Can we get into bed – while I tell you?" she asked. Without waiting for an answer, she slid under the bedclothes. I pulled off my clothes, and joined her, holding her shaking body close to me. I was uncomfortably aware that I had an erection and held myself away from her, but Linda reached down and her fingers closed round my cock.

"It started off, like I told you," she whispered, at length. "Just Jennifer and me – sun-bathing. Topless, at first – then, naked. The first time we were naked, Peter just suddenly appeared at the poolside. He was fully-dressed – in a suit. He was coming back from a meeting. I scrambled up to go for my clothes – but he told me not to. I don't mean he said – 'don't bother' – he actually ordered me not to fetch my clothes!"

"He said I looked very good – naked – and he would enjoy looking at me. Then he talked about how nice my body was. He said I had lovely firm breasts and that he liked my blonde hair – down there. He said Jennifer and I made an interesting contrast – with her big boobs and dark bush. And Jennifer didn't say a word!"

"We were all standing up and, when he talked about Jennifer's boobs, he reached out and touched one of them – then he put his hands on mine! He stood behind me and reached round and held my breasts, squeezing them gently and touching my nipples. Then he moved in behind me, and I could feel his – his erection against my bottom. He must have done it deliberately – bent his knees, or something – because he's much taller than me."

"John – I – I just didn't know what to do. He just walked in and took over. I couldn't believe he was standing there, with my breasts in his hands, and his wife standing watching, with a social smile on her face, as though we were having a glass of wine at a garden party, or something. Then he suddenly patted my bottom and said he had to go – and he was gone!"

"It was after he left that Jennifer started telling me about her marriage and how Peter totally dominates her – and how he has other women. I had already made up my mind never to go back there, but Jennifer kept asking and one day she said Peter was away, and so I went, and it was after that that she started telling me about these other things – and you started talking about me – and other men."

"And, once that happened, I began to get excited, remembering how Peter had felt my tits and pushed his cock against me. And then, one day, he joined us at the pool and he took off his bathing-trunks, and I saw it! His cock, I mean. And his whole naked body – covered with hair, and so powerful-looking. He didn't touch me that day – but, after we had a glass or two of wine, he went into the pool with Jennifer. Well, he started touching her and eventually he chased her out of the pool and, when he caught her, he bent her forward and he began to fuck her, from behind, right in front of me!"

"I was on a lounger and they were only a few feet away. I could see his big balls dangling between his legs and his cock plunging in and out of Jennifer. She was gasping and moaning and he was really squeezing her tits – squeezing them really hard, and twisting her nipples. Then she started to come – she practically shrieked out loud as her orgasm hit her – and she fell onto another lounger, exhausted."

"And he was still erect, John. His cock was rock-hard, and shiny with her juices, and it was absolutely huge! He looked down at me – and I shook my head, and he said - 'well, for God's sake, girl, finish me off with your hand' – and I did! I knew, if he insisted, I wouldn't be able to stop him fucking me, so I reached up and took hold of his cock and started to masturbate him. He knelt beside me and started touching my breasts – then he put his hand between my legs and put two of his fingers inside me. I was very wet, so it was easy for him – and then, he started to gasp and I felt his cock throbbing in my fingers and – and he came! Great globules of thick, heavy come shot out of the end of his cock, and he directed them at me – all over my face and breasts .... "

I had actually come, myself, while Linda was describing Peter bending Jennifer over, to fuck her from behind, but my cock was rigid again.

"Did he make you come, too?" I croaked, my mind suffused with images of Peter's cock held between my wife's fingers, spraying sperm all over her face and tits, while his fingers plunged into her soaking vagina.

"No," she whispered. "But, when he had finished and took his fingers out of ... me, I – well, I finished myself off."

"Was he watching?"

"They both were," she replied. "I've never even let you watch me – doing that. I'm sorry, John – I just couldn't resist him."

"But you haven't let him – actually fuck you?" I sought reassurance, once again, though what difference it made, I wasn't really sure.

"No – you have to believe that, John. Please."

I lay, silent, confused, my mind reeling. I couldn't think straight. The "husband" part of me was outraged and jealous – not because Peter had seen my wife naked, and fondled her most intimate parts, but because he had actually enslaved her – to the point that I thought, if he hadn't actually fucked her, it was because he hadn't tried very hard.

"What's actually been happening, then?" I asked, at last.

"Well, for the last two or three weeks, it's always been the three of us. I think Jennifer likes me to watch Peter – fucking her – and she doesn't mind if he plays with me, as well, as long as it's her he actually fucks. She likes me to masturbate while he's – doing that ... "

"What do you mean – 'plays with you'?" I asked.

"Well, we chase around in the pool and – well – touch each other. You know. He'd catch me and squeeze my breasts and feel between my legs and I'd – well, I'd feel his cock and ... And then Jennifer would touch me, too, and he would grab her tits and – well, we'd end up at the side of the pool, kissing and fondling ... "

"So he kissed you, as well?" I said.

"Yes," Linda murmured.

"On the mouth?" She nodded.

"Where else?"

"Everywhere." She was almost inaudible.

"What? Down there?" I pushed my hand between her thighs.

"Yes," came the quiet reply.

"And did you …?"

"Yes. I put him in my mouth – and, yes, I came, and he came, while we were like that. His tongue was in my cunt and my lips were round his cock – and I came and came and came ... "

Again, the image was too much for me, and I groaned and held my juddering cock as another orgasm shook me ....

We stayed together for only a few more months. Despite the unbelievable sexual excitement Linda's description of these events had given me – and, I have to confess, continued to give me in the ensuing weeks - I eventually couldn't stomach the idea that my wife was the sexual slave of another man. 

Despite my pleas, she wouldn't stop visiting the St Clairs. She said she still loved me, and that she just had to get this 'out of her system', but I eventually came to the conclusion that, if he hadn't before, Peter was certainly fucking Linda now and it wouldn't stop until he lost interest.

So, in early Spring, I got another job, in London, and moved out, and Linda moved back to Yorkshire shortly after. Presumably, Peter did lose interest. I never knew. I never saw Linda again. We handled the divorce through our lawyers, and I did quite well out of it.




Linda's All-Over Tan (Conclusion)



I now have my own software company, a nice house in the Home Counties, and a 'safe' Home Counties wife, Eleanor, and three grown-up children. Eleanor and I are still pretty good in bed, together, and we indulge the occasional fantasy about another man having her, but it's all very harmless.

But, when I'm on my own, I remember Linda, and Peter, and Jennifer, and an excitement I've never known since comes flooding back and I can't resist sliding my fingers round my hardening cock as I savour my memories ......

(E-mail comments, as ever, are very welcome, and I'm happy to reply, if a return address is given.)



Linda's All-Over Tan



I was disappointed, but, during Friday, I kept glancing at the glasses in my desk. At about three o'clock, I finally gave in to temptation. After all, I thought, I had to give my scheme a trial run, just to make sure there were no obvious flaws. I slipped the glasses into my jacket pocket, and left. I parked the car at a farm gate about a hundred yards away from the door in the wall and, feeling like a fugitive, ran across the deserted lane and opened the door.

Locking it behind me, I stepped carefully through the trees until I reached the last row. I didn't need the binoculars to see that there were four people on loungers at the house end of the pool. My heart began to race and my fingers trembled as I extracted the binoculars from their case.

Keeping carefully in the trees, I raised them to my eyes. They didn't need adjusting, as I had tried them out, at a similar distance, through the office window, and I got a shock as I swung them round and found myself looking full into the face of Peter. It felt as though I was standing beside him! I automatically dropped my hands, then, my nerve returning, I focussed on him, again, and adjusted the distance so that I could see him from head to toe. 

He was wearing only swimming trunks, and he was drinking from a tall glass. My dry mouth envied him, at that moment, but then I swung the glasses to the next lounger.

The woman on the lounger was a stranger to me, but I guessed she was Jennifer's sister. Her hair was a similar colour, but she was smaller, and rounder, and, I guessed, probably a little older. But, most importantly, she was wearing only bikini bottoms, and my gaze was immediately fixed on her bare breasts! They were about the same size as Jennifer's, but not so firm, and, from what I could recall, her nipples were much larger and thicker.

I quickly swung round to the others. Jennifer was beside her sister and, to my delight, her large firm tits were also on display, although I was disappointed to see that she, too, was wearing bikini bottoms. The two women were facing each other, talking, and I watched their tits moving as they spread their arms and moved their hands.

As expected, the fourth person was a man, presumably Jennifer's brother. He was tall, like Peter, but much thinner, with sparse fair hair, also wearing swimming-trunks. As I watched, he stood up and slipped on a shirt, short and sandals and addressed his wife. Then he raised a hand to the others and opened the gate and I watched him go over to a car and set off down the drive.

I watched for about another five minutes but I was beginning to get bored. Then Jennifer and her sister stood up and, after a word with Peter, put on their tops, walked out together and disappeared into the house. I was not about to spend the next half hour observing Peter's hairy chest and I had actually started putting the glasses away when I saw Jennifer, now dressed in a shirt and casual trousers, emerge from the kitchen door and drive off in her little car.

I lingered for a few seconds as the car disappeared down the drive, then saw her sister return through the pool gate, carrying two tall glasses. She was still wearing her bikini and, after putting the glasses down on a glass table beside Peter, swiftly untied the halter of her top and pulled it away. 

By this time, the binoculars were back to my eyes – and I watched, with disbelief, as she sat down on the edge of Peter's lounger, and he reached up and put his hand on her bare breast! She smiled, then leaned down and kissed him on the mouth, while his hand squeezed her tit. I watched in disbelief as her hand snaked under the waistband of Peter's swimming-trunks.

He broke off the kiss and looked at the watch on his left wrist. Her hand was still playing with his cock, inside his trunks. He said something to her and she nodded, eagerly. They stood up and the woman, slipping her hand out of his trunks, picked up her bikini top.

Leaving the drinks on the table, they turned and walked to the pool exit. As they walked, Peter slipped his hand down the back of her bikini bottoms, and she wriggled in evident delight. They disappeared in the kitchen door and I scanned the upstairs windows at the back of the house, but without success.

My hands were shaking as I lowered the glasses and put them away.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………

The calendar in the kitchen showed that Linda had a tennis appointment with Jennifer at 1 o'clock on Friday afternoon, so I began to make arrangements for an early finish from work. By now, I was becoming obsessed, not so much with spying on Jennifer in the nude, but on my own wife! I had begun to try to watch her in the house when she thought she was unobserved, and it always gave me a hard-on. Even lying in bed and catching sight of her tits in the mirror, when she thought she had her back to me, got me going.

And, always, at the back of my mind, was the guilty thrill I got out of the thought of someone else – some other man – seeing what I was seeing; his balls tightening and his prick rising just as mine did. I hadn't dared bring up the subject of her displaying herself on the tennis court again, for fear of betraying my excitement, but I had begun to get her to talk a little about her sexual experiences before we met.

These, for reasons of jealousy and possessiveness, had been "off limits" before – and still were, in 'normal' conversation – but now, while we were making love, I could sometimes get her to tell me about what she had done with various boys in her "past". Mainly, these were stories about exploits in the back seat of a car with some boy, ending up with Linda's blouse open and her bra undone, having her teenage tits well and truly felt – then fending off, so she said, the hand groping up her thigh towards her panties.

I usually came once she started describing, in detail, what the boy had done to her breasts and nipples, with either hand or mouth, or both, so she never had to confess anything really incriminating. I knew she hadn't been a virgin when we met, but I didn't really have the stomach, then, to listen to her describe how some guy's prick had slid between her open legs, up her welcoming vagina. I was still something of an idealist, then!

At last, Friday arrived, and I was like a cat on hot bricks as I waited for three o'clock, and my planned departure. At last, I was out, and driving like a bat out of hell along the dry dusty country lanes. 

As before, I parked and ran over to the door in the wall, opening it without difficulty, and, as I reached the end of the trees, I could tell, with a thrill of pleasure, that they were both at the poolside.

I stationed myself by the side of a tree and took my binoculars out of their case.

Jennifer and Linda were sitting on upright chairs, with a table between them, on which was an ice-bucket, holding a bottle of wine, and two glasses. They were both naked and, although talking earnestly, both reclining so as to catch the sun on their upturned faces, chests and legs.

They made a delightful contrast – Jennifer's tall, powerful body with large firm breasts and thighs, and her dark brown hair, compared with Linda's blonde slimness and small round breasts. The crazy thing was that it was Linda, my own wife, on whom my glasses dwelt most often, admiring her firm little tits with their unexpectedly large, thick nipples, and often travelling down to catch a glimpse of the blonde tuft of hair between her crossed thighs.

Jennifer's legs were parted and my eyes were continually drawn to the thick bush, which almost completely concealed the puffy pink lips which Linda had described so graphically to me more than once. It was the hairiest one I had ever seen and I found it a real-turn-on, especially comparing it with Linda's.

I wished they were sitting closer together so that I could see both their pubes at the same time, but I consoled myself with the thought that this might happen on a future occasion. Oh, how I hoped the long hot summer would never end!

I spied on them for about half an hour, but, eventually, the first thrill having worn off, and the only real movement having been downward, in the level of the wine bottle, I decided to call it a day and go home to prepare for my lovely wife's return. 

As soon as she came in, I could tell she had had a bit more wine than she was used to – and also that she was more than a little turned on! Her eyes were sparkling and her cheeks were pink with suppressed excitement, but, when I slid my hand under her tennis dress to cup her bottom when we kissed, she pushed it away.

"Not just now," she said, breathlessly. "I've got something to tell you - first."

I reluctantly removed my hand, clinging to that "first". After my afternoon's experiences, I wanted Linda, badly, and I didn't fancy having to listen to a load of gossip before we got down to business. We sat down at opposite sides of the kitchen table, after Linda had made coffee, and I asked her what the "big news" was.

"It's about Peter and Jennifer," she said, and my mouth dried. Two things flashed immediately into my mind. Had Jennifer told Linda about our encounter in the Land Rover last year – or had Peter walked in and caught Linda naked by the side of his pool? 

There was something about Peter that made me uneasy, should Linda catch his fancy. The plain fact was, the guy gave me an inferiority complex. He was taller than me; better-looking; richer; more upper-class – and he had this incredible self-assurance. I put it down to his years in the army, where he had obviously been in control of large numbers of men – and it showed now. He was president of the tennis club, and half a dozen other local organisations. He had been the town mayor and he was on friendly, social terms with all the local gentry – MPs and titled people and gentleman farmers.

But Linda's next words put my mind at rest – at least on both of those counts.

"She was telling me the most amazing things about their sex life!" Linda said, excitedly. "I couldn't believe she was telling me all this! I think it must have been the wine, but – phew!"

My balls tightened in anticipation.

"Oh," I said, trying to appear only casually interested. "What was she saying?"

"Oh, all sorts!" Linda giggled. "I don't know where to start!"

"What about the beginning?" I suggested.

"Well," she said, "for a start, they make love at least once every day – usually two or three times, ever since they were married. She says he's insatiable! He screws her every night before they go to sleep; if he wakes up during the night, he has her again; and he usually does it again when they wake up! And they've been married for seventeen years!"

"Does she never say 'No'", I asked, and Linda's face became serious.

"She doesn't dare," she replied. "I know you wouldn't think so, knowing her, but she does absolutely everything he says. It's not that she's scared of him – not, sort of, physically - he wouldn't hit her, or anything – but he's dominated her right from the start and she just wouldn't know how to refuse him, now."

"Does she ever want to" I asked.

"She didn't say – but there must be times when …… I mean, it's only natural. There must be times when she doesn't feel like it."

"Well," I said. "It's probably unusual, but it's hardly amazing."

"Ah," said Linda, with a note of triumph. "But he has affairs, as well! And he doesn't hide them from Jennifer! He's been totally open, from the start. They didn't do it before they married, because he wanted her to be a virgin on their wedding night – and she was! They went on honeymoon to America and Jennifer says she spent two whole weeks on her back – except when he wanted her in a different position! – and then, the day before they came home, Peter spelt it out to her, what he expected of her, as his wife. And that included him having affairs."

"And what about her?"

"Oh, no," said Linda. "There was to be none of that – and she hasn't. She hasn't looked at another man."

"Oh, yeah," I thought.

"He's been having Jennifer's sister, Laura, on and off, for about ten years, now," Linda added. "Jennifer said he was screwing her last weekend, when they were staying there."

I said nothing, a picture of Peter's hand snaking into Laura's bikini pants filling my mind's eye.

"Well," I said. "I suppose, really, I'm not too surprised, knowing what Peter's like, and ….."

But Linda interrupted. "Ah, but that's not all. After they had been married about a year, Peter's regiment was posted to Singapore, and they had a really hectic social life with the white community there. There was definitely a 'swinging' community there, and certain parties were rumoured to have wife-swapping, and so on."

"But, for Peter and Jennifer, it was mainly all dinners, and bridge, and so on, but one night, they were at a dinner party with three other couples at some plantation owner's house, and the men got into a silly gambling game."

"After a while, they got tired of playing for money, and they smeared their drink glasses with some sweet stuff and started betting on which glass would be the first to have a fly land on it. And whoever's glass it landed on, his wife had to remove an item of clothing! Jennifer was the youngest one there. The others were middle-aged – and they had all played the game before. They told her the worst that ever happened was that they got down to their underwear, then their husbands called a halt."

"So, although she was very unhappy about it, Jennifer pretended it was all a bit of fun, for Peter's sake, and joined in. But Peter had a run of bad luck and, fairly soon, Jennifer found herself taking off her dress, leaving her in just her bra and panties."

"She was very embarrassed. The other women hadn't lost very much at all, but the other husbands had a good look, then laughed and declared the game over. But Peter had had a lot to drink, and he hates to lose, and he said they should have one last bet."


"If he didn't lose – if the fly landed on one of the other glasses – each of the men had to give him a hundred pounds, but, if he lost, Jennifer was to take off everything, and serve drinks, like that, for the next half hour."

"And what happened?" I asked, unsteadily.

"Jennifer said it took ages before a fly settled – and it landed on Peter's glass! She said it was awful! Peter told her to take off her bra, and then her panties, and then she had to walk about with a wine bottle, filling everyone's glasses – completely naked! She said that, until then, Peter was the only man who had ever seen her naked. At first, the other men tried not to look at her, but it was the women who started talking about how firm her breasts were, and her bottom, and, before the half hour was finished, their eyes were on her, all the time."

"The only one who didn't speak was Peter. He never spoke about it –then, or after – and Jennifer always had the feeling that he blamed her for it happening."

"Bloody hell!" was all I could think of to say.

Linda leaned across the table and took my hand.

"Have you got a hard-on, now?" she said, a wicked little smile on her face. I nodded, then jumped as her other hand reached under the table and found it.

"Let's go to bed, and I'll tell you some more," she breathed.

(To be continued)

E-mail comments are very welcome and will get replies, if return address given.