8 comments/ 75195 views/ 3 favorites Caroline's Scrapbook By: MrChips72 Browsing the Internet for porn late one night, as single men with fast download speeds are apt to do, I followed a link to a swingers site. I read through some of the postings and sat watching the chat room messages scroll by for a bit, then I went to bed, thinking about what I'd seen and read before dropping off. I kept popping back to the site for a look-see over the next few days. It didn't take long for me to realise that the vast majority of postings were from single men like myself. This was quite disheartening so I never bothered to compose my own advertisement. What would be the point? It would only get lost amongst the crowd. I did think to myself though, rather snobbishly, that if I were to write a message it would probably be somewhat more literate than many I'd read. I fell into the habit of perusing the site occasionally over the next few months. I'd usually just check the most recent "Women seeking Men" or "Couples seeking Men" adverts. One day I noticed a message from "M and C" who were advertising from a town not far from where I live. I opened their advert in another window and subjected it to careful scrutiny. They were a couple in their early 30's, hadn't advertised before and wanted to meet single men who definitely wasn't gay or bisexual. They wanted educated men, slim, neither too old nor too young and a photo without wedding-tackle in it. A single photograph accompanied their message; a down angled shot of a woman sat on a bed. She was side on to the photographer, looking away, nearest leg crossed over the other, hands held gracefully in her lap. Long brunette hair hung to the small of her back. She was wearing a black bolero style jacket over a black dress. An inch of creamy thigh was visible and then black stockings encased long, slim legs out of the frame. Her left cheek was the same unblemished creamy colour of her thigh. A long, elegant neck descended gracefully into a beautiful cleavage. The swell of her breasts pushed against the material of her dress and the camera angle allowed a clear view down into the shadow between them. She wore both engagement and wedding rings. Around her neck she wore a slim, unadorned gold necklace. I spent a long time looking at that photograph. It was like one of those arty photos from an upmarket porn site; the type women like to browse because they don't cater to the lowest male denominator. This photograph was probably proof that even the most amateur of photographers can produce a work of high art by accident. Nothing could be seen of the woman's face beyond her cheek, but looking at the photograph you could just tell that she was extremely attractive. I decided to answer their advert. It was fortunate they didn't want a cock shot. I don't have a digital camera and I didn't fancy handing an x-rated role of film over the counter to a teenage assistant in the chemists. Instead, I flicked through a shoebox of photographs that hadn't made it into an album and selected one from a recent holiday in Greece. A cheerful shot of me in a panama hat, squinting happily at the camera whilst Russian tourists clambered over the Parthenon in the background. I spent a moment thinking what a jolly handsome chap I was, then scanned it onto my computer and sat back whilst I thought about what to write. On the assumption that "M and C" would be inundated with replies, I rattled mine off rapidly, a fairly honest biography laced with flattery for "C", then sent it before I lost my nerve. I wasn't really expecting a response. Hoping for one, yes, but not with any real expectation of receiving one. After a week without I'd given up completely and no longer checked my e-mail account several times a day. Then, on a Thursday evening, a message from 'M and C' arrived. Sorry for the delay in getting back to me, but would I like to meet them for a drink that Saturday? I responded immediately with an affirmative and asked where they would like to meet up. Ten minutes later another message arrived. Their names were Mark and Caroline and I would be able to meet them in a pub I was already familiar with, from nine 'o'clock onwards. Caroline would wear the same clothes she had on in the photograph. They'd be willing to put me up for the night if we got on all right. Well, I was extraordinarily chuffed with this turn of events. It took an incredible effort of will not to masturbate there and then as my fantasies ran wild; I wanted to save myself for Saturday in case things turned out well. I slept restlessly that night and, needless to say, wasn't concentrating as much as I ought to at work the next day. In fact, I left early so I could get a haircut and then buy some condoms, expensively, from a pub vending machine. There's no way I could ever pluck up enough moral courage to buy them cheaply over the counter. Saturday dawned and then dragged by very slowly. I ran a bath, shaved and generally tarted myself up as best as I was able. I had a light brunch, checked and double-checked the train times on the Internet, repeatedly read through my e-mails and then tried to kill time by watching a film on television. Then, after a couple of sandwiches for tea, it was suddenly time to go. A short train journey and a brisk five-minute walk later and I stood outside the pub where our meeting would occur. Heart pounding, palms sweaty and with a sense of trepidation bordering upon fear, I put my head down and entered the pub on unsteady legs. It being a Saturday night, the pub was smoky, crowded and very noisy. Mark and Caroline were sat side by side at a corner table away from the bar. Their drinks were on the small round table in front of them. Beneath the table Mark was reserving a stool, presumably for me, by the efficacious method of using it as a footrest. They'd obviously been keeping an eye out for me; Caroline was waving to get my attention through the throng. I pushed my way through to them and Mark thrust the stool out with his foot for me to sit on. "Hello," I said to them both, reminding myself to act confidently as I sat down on the stool. Mark responded with a nod and Caroline smiled at me. "Hi," she said, "How are you?" Stunned would have been an accurate response. She was gorgeous. Her dark, lustrous hair framed an unblemished elfin face. Beneath delicately arched eyebrows, hazel eyes twinkled through long lashes. A diminutive nose surmounted a set of pearly white incisors, gleaming from between slightly parted, generous, brilliant red lips. She was leaning forward, almost daring me to stare down the front of her dress. With a supreme effort of will I maintained eye contact and smiled back. "I'm fine thank you. I do hope I've not kept you waiting long." I managed, hoping I sounded suitably insouciant. "That's all right. We got here early to make sure of a table." Looking around I could see there weren't any unoccupied tables left. Most of them were taken by a large group of women in the early stages of a hen night. Apart from the bride, liberally garlanded with L-plates, none of the other women were obviously drunk yet. Around them, jostling for position, were several groups of lads waiting for time and alcohol to make the women more amenable to their advances. "Can I get you a drink?" asked Mark as he stood and shuffled towards the bar. "Please, a pint of London Pride if they've got it. Any old ale if not." As Mark attempted to attract the attention of a barmaid, I engaged Caroline in small talk. We chatted about the weather, the relative merits of various Reality-TV programmes and other neutral topics. All the time Caroline kept leaning further and further towards me until human nature won and I glanced down. Her breasts were pushed upwards and together by the dress she wore, presenting a deep cleavage to which the eye was irresistibly drawn. The pale orbs almost glowed in the orange light cast by a wall lamp, the contrast with the shadow between them offering the promise of delight for anyone bold enough to grasp their opportunity. Caroline leaned back; the victorious smile of a chess player who dictates her opponent's moves playing on her lips. I blushed at having being caught staring at her breasts then, knowing that she'd wanted me to look anyway, relaxed and smiled back at her. That's when I knew I was in if I played my cards right. Mark rejoined us with our drinks and we settled down, becoming comfortable with each other as I got to know them and they got to know me. What really broke the ice was a discussion Mark and I had about the abysmal fielding performance by the West Indies cricket team in the last test series. Mark, it transpired, was a big cricket fan and played as a middle order batsman in his village team. Feeling a bit left out of our cricket discussion, Caroline started playing footsy with me beneath the table. Behind me, the decibel level from the hen party started rising. With most of an hour gone and the level of our drinks getting low, I drained the remnants of my pint and asked if Mark and Caroline wanted another. Mark indicated that he'd settle for a pint of whatever I was having. Caroline leaned towards me again. She smiled wickedly and spoke in a tone of voice I can only describe as puckish. "I'm a cum guzzling fuck slut and I want to drink your spunk." I sat in shock, mouth agape. Mark started laughing. Caroline blinked her eyelashes coquettishly at me, looking as though butter wouldn't melt in her mouth. Recovering my composure somewhat, I replied with the wittiest retort I could think of. "If I let you have some then all the other woman here will want some too. Are you sure you want to share me?" "Oh," she giggled, "aren't you the stud then? I suppose I'd better settle for a gin and tonic for now then." Things definitely seemed to be going well, I thought to myself as I approached the bar. I couldn't imagine Caroline speaking to me like that if she hadn't made her mind up to go all the way later. Within my trousers my prick started to perk up at the thought. I'd settled in at the bar to wait my turn when I felt a soft, feminine presence move in next to me. I glanced down, wondering if Caroline had followed me. Instead of her delightful hazel eyes looking back at me however, I found myself staring into a partially glazed blue pair. "Looks like someone's going to get lucky tonight then, doesn't it?" she slurred in a Welsh accent, with what I assumed was a rhetorical question. "Pardon?" I said, somewhat confused. She was in her late thirties or early forties. A member of the hen party, she had the brash look and bleached hair of a woman who spends too much time drinking too much alcohol and smoking too many cigarettes. "I can lip read. We all can, can't we?" She waved airily in the general direction of the increasingly boisterous hen party. "Most of us work in a school for the deaf. I could see what your friend said, see?" I realized then that she was one of those many Welsh people with the habit of ending each sentence in a question to which they expect no response. I wondered what her deaf students made of the habit. "Oh." I replied, not overly sure of what else to say and uncertain of how to proceed. I was providentially saved from having to make any conversation by the timely arrival of the barmaid. As I ordered and then paid for the drinks, I heard the woman say, "Cum guzzling fuck slut, see?" under her breath before she started sniggering. Back at the table I distributed the drinks to Mark and the mischievously impish looking Caroline. I was feeling quite confident now that I'd got to know them both. The beer I'd already drunk probably helped as well. I decided that if Caroline wanted to play the minx, I'd pay her back in spades. "You look so innocent for someone who speaks so dirty," I told her, "I could've imagined you doing a Julie Andrews on a mountaintop before you said what you did." Mark laughed at this and Caroline blushed prettily. "She loves talking dirty," said Mark, "She also has a nun's habit in the wardrobe at home." He turned to Caroline and gave her a hug with one arm around her shoulders. "You're my naughty nun, aren't you darling?" he asked affectionately. "That's right." Caroline agreed. She snuggled up to Mark but kept looking into my eyes, arching her back to thrust forward her breasts. "I'm a filthy slut," she said with pride, "I'll prove it later." Seizing my opportunity I leaned forwards towards Caroline conspiratorially. "Why don't you prove it now? Just how dirty can you talk?" I leaned as far back on the stool as I could go without toppling off, giving anyone from the hen party who happened to be looking a clear view of her. Caroline disentangled herself from Mark and leaned towards me, exactly as I desired, and giving me an incidental, though not unwelcome, view down the front of her dress. I watched her breasts rise and fall with the cadence of her breathing as she spoke. Caroline was animated, obviously relishing the chance to be very rude. "I'm a dirty cocksucking whore. Pump every hole in me full of jism and I'll beg for more." Behind me, the noise level from the hen party declined dramatically. Caroline didn't notice as she got enthusiastically into her stride. "I love doing the splits on a big hard cock, feeling it fill my twat and spurt its spunk in me." My own cock was rigid by now. I wear Y-fronts though and always angle my tackle up one branch of the Y. Except when it's fit to burst, it's almost comfortable and unnoticeable in the angle between leg and abdomen. "I can't get enough spunk. Cum on my tits and I'll rub it in. Cum on my face and I'll lick it up. Cum in my cunt and I'll scoop it out and drink it." Fortunately the noise generated by the rest of the pub's patrons covered the absence of sound from the hen party. I could actually feel the intensity of the stares emanating from the women behind me. "I've got small vibrators, big vibrators, little dildos and big dildos. I've even got a rubber cock the size of a rampaging fucking bull elephant's." Mark was looking around now, realising something was amiss, but not sure what exactly. Caroline carried on obliviously, thoroughly enjoying herself. I nodded encouragement to her. "I do the housework with a dildo up my arse and a vibrator up my cunt. By the time I finish I've usually cum so much you could collect my pussy juice in a bucket and wash the kitchen floor with it. That's how much I cum and that's how slutty I am." She finished triumphantly, wickedly, a grin on her face. "Are you hard yet?" "I sure am." I said, "By the way, all those women behind me can lip read." The blood drained from Caroline's face. Her eyes widened in shock as she looked over my shoulder and saw all the drunken women looking intently at her. "My kitchen's a bit messy if you're free tomorrow," said one. "Any advice for the bride?" asked another. Mark was in stitches. He fell over sideways on the bench, holding his sides as he laughed. I tried to maintain an innocent expression, hoping I'd not blown any chance for a bit of rumpy pumpy later. Caroline flushed furiously and hid her face in her hands. Behind me the barrage of good-natured banter continued whilst the rest of the pub's clientele looked around, bemused. "My God," whispered Caroline, "You bastard! You rotten bastard!" She peeked at me from behind her fingers in incredulity. "How could you do that to me?" Behind me, the raucous torrent of suggestive advice and observation continued, as cheerfully remorseless as only a British pub or football terrace crowd can make it. "I think we'd better get going," Mark said, rising to his feet and putting a hand on Caroline's shoulder. "Are you coming?" I nodded and followed the pair as they made for the door. Caroline had turned a bright shade of red and used her hair to hide behind until she made it past the grinning girls and through the exit. A final cry of "Give her one for me, stud!" followed us out into the cool night air. We halted outside, allowing Caroline time to regain her composure. "You evil wanker! I've never been so embarrassed in all my life." She glared at me for a moment and then started giggling guiltily. "God, I'm so turned on though." She moved her right hand down and briefly caressed her mons through the fabric of her dress. "Lets go. I want to fuck." I followed them through the pub's pot-holed and puddled car park to a silver Mondeo. Mark used a remote key ring to unlock the doors, eliciting a beep and a flash from the indicators. I clambered into the back and was surprised when Caroline followed me instead of making for the front passenger seat. I reached for the seatbelt as Mark got into the front but Caroline stopped me with a gesture. "That'll just get in the way. Leave it off." I raised my eyebrows in a silent query, wondering what exactly the seatbelt would get in the way of. Her only response was to pucker her lips and blow a kiss towards me. Mark reversed, three-point turned and successfully negotiated the car park's hazards. As soon as we were on the road Caroline pressed her shoulders back into the upholstery, raising her bottom from the seat to hike her dress' hemline up to her waist. Beneath her dress she was wearing shiny black silk knickers that reflected the light from the streetlamps we passed. A black suspender belt held up her stockings. The flesh revealed during her contortions looked smooth, creamy and very inviting. "Sit in the middle," she ordered me. I shuffled across to the slightly raised section of backseat directly opposite the rear-view mirror, placing one foot in each of the foot wells. Then I was surrounded by warmth and fragrance and soft femininity. Caroline straddled me, enveloping me with her body, hair and scent. Knees akimbo, she ground her crotch against mine. Her breasts pillowed softly into my chest and her arms encompassed me, pulling my mouth towards her sweet red lips as they descended. I grasped a taut, muscular, silk clad buttock in each hand and held on tightly as they flexed and writhed with her grinding motion. Our lips formed a vacuum seal as our tongues tangled. My hard-on returned with a vengeance as Caroline humped my groin. Her buttocks tensed and relaxed rhythmically, each contraction thrusting her pelvis forward and her pubic bone onto the head of my tumescent member. I briefly closed my eyes as I basked in the physical sensations assaulting me. Opening them, I looked over Caroline's shoulder and saw Mark excitedly watching us in the rear-view mirror. Caroline crushed her lips against mine as our tongues twisted together. The feeling was electric. She sinuously circled the tip of her tongue around my own to the tempo of her pelvic movements. I closed my lips around her probing organ and sucked on it, rasping it with my teeth in passing. She moaned in delight, pulling her head back to escape the sensation, her breath smelling slightly of gin. I pushed her knickers across her arse cheeks with my fingertips until the material bunched and gathered in the crack between them. Grasping each buttock firmly again, I began to massage the pliant flesh. Each time she clenched her cheeks to thrust her pelvis forward I gripped her tightly, sinking my fingers deep into the firm flesh. When she relaxed and allowed gravity to grind her groin down the length of my cock I let go, caressing the smooth skin of her bottom gently. The heady odour of Caroline's arousal filled the car, a mixture of perfume, sweat and feminine excitement. Her hips gradually began to move faster as the stimulation provided by her movements had its effect. Repeatedly, she jabbed her silk covered clitoris against my knob and then slid her labia down my jeans clad tool. I moved my hands from her buttocks to her thighs, caressing them from hip to knee in long, gentle strokes as she raised and lowered herself in my lap. Caroline's lips moved from my mouth to my neck as the tempo of her motions increased. I nuzzled into her own neck in response, kissing and licking the smooth skin from ear to shoulder, flicking my tongue into the most sensitive area behind her jawbone. Each of her indrawn breaths was a gasp, each exhalation a miniature squeal as her movements became frantic. Caroline's Scrapbook My cock was rigid. Her body was hot. She grunted. She shuddered. She squealed and she came. I returned my roving hands to her bottom and held on tightly, my fingers sinking into and kneading the pliable flesh of her behind as she shivered and shook and pounded her pussy against me. She released a huge sigh of contentment. Her taut muscles relaxed and she slumped against me. "That was nice," she said. I couldn't have agreed more. *** Mark and Caroline lived in a modern housing estate, one of those red brick developments on the outskirts of most commuter-belt towns where the houses are the size of shoeboxes and have as much character. They'd made an effort to make theirs look nice. The minute front lawn was well mowed and surrounded by flowerbeds, but it was obvious they were onto a loser from the start. Mark pulled up onto the short driveway and we clambered out of the vehicle. Caroline smoothed her dress down to erase its rumpled appearance and gave us both a broad, contented smile. Leading us across to the front entrance, Mark raised the handle on the PVC door and turned his key clockwise in the lock. Entering the house, it was obvious that it was usually kept clean and tidy. It looked well ordered and well maintained; a warm and friendly dwelling where dust and grime was never allowed to linger for long. The living room was off to the left, the kitchen in front, down the hall, and the stairs to the right. Having not swung with swingers before, I was unsure of what to do or where to go until Caroline took me by the hand and led me into the living room. The living room had the same beige carpet as the hallway. The walls were a lighter shade of the same colour. A large gilt-framed mirror hung above the fireplace on the far wall, a row of ornaments and photographs below it on the mantelpiece. A pale blue three-piece suite formed an 'L' shape around the fireplace and the corner by the front window, which contained a large flat screen television and DVD collection. In the centre of the horseshoe, on a cream and blue striped woollen rug, a low cushioned coffee table rested on castors. Through an arched doorway opposite the window was the dining room. "Take a seat," she said, "Can I get you a drink? We've whisky, gin, wine or beer?" "A beer would go down a treat." I said, sinking into the armchair facing the curtained window. Caroline smiled and left the room through the doorway behind me, into the dining room and thence, presumably, into the kitchen. Mark moved over to the settee and plonked himself down in its centre. Stretching out his arms along the cushion tops, Mark eased his shoes off with his toes and thrust his legs out straight before him beneath the coffee table, heels dinting the carpet, the toes of his argyll socks pointing towards the ceiling. Looking at the photographs on the mantelpiece, I saw they were of the type you usually expect to find in such places: a graduation photograph containing Mark and Caroline both, each wearing mortarboards and holding the fake scrolls they pass out for such occasions; a wedding photo of the pair taken whilst they stood by a lake under dark and lowering clouds; two of a niece and one of an obviously aged Alsatian. Mark pointed at the graduation and wedding photographs. "That's where I met Caroline; we both went to Cardiff Uni. The moment that wedding photo was taken it started pissing it down. I had to pick her up and run indoors. We got soaked." Caroline came back with two beers and a gin and tonic. Passing me a beer, she sat down next to her husband on the nearside of the sofa. Mark took his beer from her with his left hand; his right moved down off the cushion and around her shoulders as she nestled up to him. I took a swig from the bottle of Spitfire I'd been passed, feeling very mellow from the alcohol I'd been drinking, and very turned on following the activities in the car. I was wondering how the evening would unfold thenceforward. Would Caroline just ask us to shag her, or what? Not knowing what the usual etiquette for this type of situation was, I took another sip of my drink and waited upon events. I didn't have to wait long. Caroline raised her left leg until she was almost sitting on her heel. Her other leg swivelled out sideways until it rested on the arm of the couch. I recalled her earlier claim of being able to do the splits; I could well believe it. Short dresses are not, of course, designed to be concealing when one's thighs are splayed so widely apart. I had an excellent view all the way up the inside of her right leg to her silk covered crotch, which she began to slowly and lightly stroke, up and down, with the middle finger of her right hand. Caroline was looking at me looking at her. "Would you like to see more?" she asked, her finger maintaining its slow, teasing movement. I nodded. Taking one last gulp of ale, I put the bottle down on the floor next to my chair. Any more booze, I thought, might have a detrimental affect on my prowess. I watched as Caroline's left hand slid along her thigh, the tips of her long, slender fingers curling one by one under the gusset of her knickers. She drew the material aside, a deliberate and unhurried action that revealed the shaven splendour of her moist, pink pussy lips. They nestled, smooth, damp and flushed with arousal beneath a closely cropped triangle of dark fur. Caroline's index finger joined the other in its meanderings. Both sank into the hidden depths at the bottom of her slit and then emerged, glistening with moisture, to part the slick folds of flesh and splay her inner lips wide open to my ardent gaze. Her fingers continued moving upwards and rubbed in a brief circle around her clitoral hood. Then they moved down again, one finger stroking along each lip of her outer labia until they converged and disappeared into the depths of her vagina. "I've shown you mine. Aren't you going to show me yours?" I nodded again and glanced self-consciously at Mark as I undid my belt buckle. His arm around Caroline's shoulders had slipped down until his hand cupped her right breast beneath her dress. The fabric rippled as he squeezed and kneaded her flesh. She leaned her head back, basking in the sensations assaulting her, fingers busy between her thighs. Unzipping my trousers, I hooked my thumb into the waistband of my briefs and tugged down until my erection sprang out. Grasping it firmly in my other hand, I began a slow, sensuous, up and down movement. Caroline watched with hooded eyes as I pulled and pushed the loose skin over the underlying rigidity. Every down stroke caused my foreskin to stretch and slide off the plum coloured glans beneath. Each upward movement hid it from sight again. I couldn't tell from Mark's expression what he was thinking, but wanking in front of another bloke wasn't making me as uncomfortable as I thought it would. Suddenly, with a squeak and a shuddering moan, Caroline clamped her thighs together around her furiously frigging fingers and came. With her head lolling, back arched and legs trembling she was, I thought, the most beautiful and erotic image I'd ever seen. I stopped jacking myself abruptly lest I embarrass myself and make a mess. Coming down from her orgasmic high, Caroline opened her eyes fully and looked at me holding my cock. I waggled it playfully and she started laughing, a joyous and unrestrained chortle that sent a shiver of pleasure down my spine. "I think," she said, rising and pulling Mark up with her, "That it's time to take our clothes off." That was it; no saucy striptease or slow removal of clothing as hands wandered and explored, but a rapid disrobement in a race to see who could get into their birthday suits first. I won. I'd started with an advantage as my trousers and underwear fell to the floor when I stood anyway. Then it was a case of shrugging out of my jacket, unfastening the top two buttons on my shirt and pulling it off over my head. I kicked the clothing puddled around my feet to one side and I was ready, stripped for action, my erection sticking outwards and upwards like the spout on a teapot. Mark was a close second. He was heavily muscled with broad shoulders, well-defined abdominal muscles and thick, stocky thighs; the physique of a weight lifter. I hadn't realized just how big he was when he was dressed. He made me look puny with my slim limbs and burgeoning belly. I noticed though, with no small amount of satisfaction, that his dick was shorter than mine, even if it was twice the girth. Like Mark himself, it was short but stout. I also noticed that his pubic hair was shaved into a small patch above his penis. His scrotum and the shaft of his cock were completely hairless. Caroline was a slow third, but well worth the wait. After shrugging out of her bolero jacket she'd had trouble unfastening the zipper on her dress. Finally finishing her contortions with it, she shrugged her shoulders and let the black material fall and pool around her ankles. Her strapless bra quickly followed, her pale, full, carnelian tipped breasts bouncing once when released. My eyes followed her breasts as she stooped to unfasten the stays on her suspender belt, marvelling at the way they changed shape, bobbing and swaying with her movements. Then she pushed her knickers down, pulled them off her ankles and stood, naked except for her stockings and beautiful to behold. "Oh, bollocks!" she said, "Hang on a minute." I watched in surprise as she turned and padded out into the hallway, bare buttocks bouncing. She hurried up the stairs and then I heard the thumping sound of footsteps in the room above. I looked at Mark and he shrugged, a motion that caused his penis to bobble slightly. My ardour began to flag somewhat, but then I heard Caroline come back down the stairs. She appeared in the doorway, a blue and cream striped blanket, a camera and a crystal glass bowl containing a selection of condoms clutched beneath her breasts. My ardour rose again as I watched her breasts jiggling with every step she took, although I was somewhat concerned about posing for the camera. Mark saw my expression and laughed. "She likes photos to be taken of her. We'll not take any of you so don't worry." I smiled in relief and then gave Caroline a hand to spread the blanket out over the padded coffee table. I don't really know how else to describe it. It was the right size and shape and occupied the place one usually finds a coffee table, but this one was upholstered in pale blue cotton over padding twelve inches deep. It was as firm as a mattress and, I realized, that's exactly what it was going to be used as. Caroline sat down on the coffee table between Mark and myself and looked at us expectantly. "Right, who wants to go first?" I glanced at Mark and we both made 'after you' type gestures at the same time. Mark laughed and I pondered briefly on the fantastic nature of our get-together. Here was I, with a pretty dismal track record amongst women, standing naked in a strange man's living room and courteously inviting him to fuck his wife before I did. Caroline settled the dilemma by grabbing my cock and pulling me towards her. She held my shaft with her hot little hand in a full fisted grip beneath the head. Pulling me close, her breath gusted over my glans as she slowly rolled the foreskin back to scrutinize the plum coloured tip. Holding me tightly, she looked up, a puckish expression on her face. "You know, I owe you for what you did in the pub." Before I could act she ducked her head, catching my little one between sharp white teeth. She didn't bite down hard enough to do any damage, but I yelped in pain and felt the sweat start to spring from the base of my spine. I couldn't pull away without hurting myself, so I stood still as the blood drained rapidly from my member. "But," she said, releasing me and looking up once more, "You made me horny as hell, so I'll forgive you this time and kiss it better." Again she ducked forward, but this time it was the tight wet noose of her lips that encircled my helmet, not her fierce little incisors. She sucked on it and caressed the underside with her tongue, causing me to gasp in pleasure so intense it was almost unendurable. I reached for and held onto her shoulders to steady myself as she suckled my cock. Within a few seconds it regained its former glory, as stiff and inflexible as I could ever remember it. Caroline dipped further forwards, sliding her lips along my shaft until her nose was buried in my pubic hair and the head of my cock slipped into her throat. The feeling was incredible. I'd never been deep-throated before. Every time Caroline swallowed the muscles in her oesophagus constricted in a rippling motion along my knob. Then she'd pull back, take a few deep breaths and slither forwards along my shaft once again. On some of the downward plunges, instead of using her throat muscles, her tongue swept out and licked across my testicles. My scrotum shrank in pleasure and my nuts drew up tightly against my torso. I realised that I was about to reach sensory overload and managed to gasp out a warning of my imminent orgasm. Caroline withdrew from my cock and, taking me in hand once again, began to jack my slick shaft with firm, rapid strokes. She tilted her face up to look at me with an expression of eager anticipation. Then she looked back at my cock, aimed its weeping helmet at her face and closed her eyes. The pace of her jacking became frenetic; her face was flushed a bright pink and her breasts jiggled with the effort she was exerting. I gazed down, enraptured by the picture she presented and then, with a grunt of elation, I came. Stomach and thigh muscles straining, knees buckling and buttocks clenching, my pelvis thrust forward of its own accord and, like grapeshot from a cannon, an explosion of seminal fluid erupted from my dick and blasted Caroline in the face. She flinched, and then a long pearly arc of semen splattered her from forehead to mouth. The base of my cock throbbed and another gush of cum lashed her from left eye to ear. Again, another spurt landed on her right cheek. Then again, and a shot of cream coloured liquid landed on her lips and slid down to dangle viscously from her chin. Succeeding spasms decreased in intensity; little splashes landing on her breasts and then a slow trickle of semen seeped out of my dick and onto her still jacking fingers. There was a click and a flash of light. Mark was kneeling at the end of the coffee table with the camera focused on Caroline. "Look this way, darling." Caroline, still holding my wilting penis, turned to face the camera. She smiled and Mark took another photograph. She wiped semen from her eye sockets, opened her eyes and then stuck her tongue out, licking around her lips to gather up my cum. Mark took another shot with the camera, then cast it aside onto the sofa. "That was fucking amazing, darling, he came like a fucking horse." And I had. Caroline's face and breasts were covered in glistening moisture. A porn star couldn't have performed better, I thought, with immense satisfaction. Caroline licked my sperm from her hand and then sucked me in once again. She slurped up the remnants of my passion and then pushed me gently to one side. "Come on lover," she said to Mark, "I want it, now." I sank back into my chair and reached for my beer, sated and satisfied, as Mark took my place before Caroline. Caroline lay back of the Coffee table and raised her legs. Mark lifted them, placing one over each of his broad shoulders, and then leaned forward to place a hand either side of her head. He didn't kiss her, but the scent of my semen must have been strong in his nostrils as they stared into each other's eyes from mere inches apart. There was no finesse, no foreplay; Caroline was flushed with excitement and must have been well lubricated from her earlier orgasms. She reached for Mark's dick and placed the head of it at her opening. He lunged into Caroline in one smooth stroke and she sighed, love writ large upon her features as she gazed adoringly at him. He didn't start out slowly, but began to hammer her in short, hard jabs. Her breasts flattened out across her chest, swaying and undulating with each thrust, the nipples erect and pointing skyward. She stroked his flanks as they rutted, cooing tender endearments. Their breathing became rapid as they shared the sperm scented air between them. I couldn't see Marks penis from where I sat without leaning sideways. I didn't bother; the sights and sounds were arousing enough as was. I could hear the slurping, squelching noise emanating from Caroline's pussy as Mark ploughed it, the meaty slap as his pelvis hit her backside, and the gasping for breath as both sought to suck in oxygen. Caroline's arse cheeks rippled as each blow from Marks hips sent shockwaves through her flesh. Both were flushed bright red by now. Sweat began to run down Mark's face, little droplets forming and falling to splash into and join the sheen of semen and sweat masking Caroline's own features. My cock was hard again and I began to stroke it slowly as I watched the sight before me. Caroline had her eyes shut now, her head lolling from side to side. "Yes!" she panted, as Mark thrust into her, "Yes! Yes! Yes!" Mark grabbed a calf muscle in each hand and pushed her legs further back. "More! More! Harder!" Her knees were beside her ears, Caroline's face hidden from view and her pelvis tilted so that Mark was thrusting down into her. "Oh! There! There! Yes!" I could see Marks cock from this angle now. It pounded in and out of her, bruised in colour but slick and gleaming with their shared secretions. Caroline's swollen red inner pussy lips clung to his knob on each out thrust, disappearing back between her outer labia as he shoved home. "Yes! Yes! Yes!" Straggling strands of hair clung to her cheeks, matted and shiny, her cries getting louder as they ascended in scale. "Oh! God! Oh! Yes!" Mark reached the short strokes, his hips moving frenziedly with the imminence of his orgasm. "There! I'm there!" Caroline screamed and convulsed. Her arms flopped out sideways and she clutched at the blanket, her hands clenching into fists, the material bunching as she grasped at it. Marks frantic pace suddenly ceased. Instead, he groaned, hips jerking erratically, body shuddering as he unleashed his seed deep inside her. Their muscles relaxed slowly as all the tension left their bodies. Huffing and puffing, their breathing returned to normal. "Fucking A," mumbled Caroline. She started to pet her husband as her contorted body took his weight. "You can get off now, you fat lump. I'm being squashed." "You weren't complaining a minute ago." "Because you were being beastly. There's no point talking to an animal in heat. Pervert." "Slut." "Yes, but I'm your slut. Now get off before the wind changes and I spend the rest of my life in this position." "I wouldn't complain." "Because you're a pervert." Wearily, Mark dismounted and collapsed back onto the sofa, looking like he'd run a marathon, his penis wet and red. Caroline stayed as she was for a moment, her vagina gaping widely, and then she dropped her legs to the floor and lay limp and spent on the table. She looked over at me, beer bottle in one hand, cock in the other, and smiled, "You'll have to wait a bit. I'm bloody knackered." We rested for a couple of minutes, Caroline flat on her back and Mark and myself slouching on the three-piece suite, all thinking our separate thoughts. After a few minutes silence Caroline sat up and examined herself. My semen had mingled with her sweat and was starting to dry in gooey patches on her face and breasts. Her hair was damp and sticky, matted and gummed. She looked like she'd been ravished, which indeed she had. "I think I need a shower before we do anything else." She stood up, leaving a small puddle of cum and a larger damp patch on the blanket. Cupping a hand beneath her pussy, she headed for the door. Mark slapped her bottom as she passed. "Keep that up and you'll get no more nooky from me tonight," she warned him teasingly. Caroline's Scrapbook "Is that a threat woman? I'm a beast, remember? And a pervert. I'll take what I want, and I want cunt!" Mark growled deep in his throat and leapt to his feet. Caroline shrieked in alarm and bolted, hand still cupped between her thighs to prevent Marks cum leaking out. Mark dashed after her and I heard the thunder of feet going upstairs, followed by more squealing, giggling and calling of names. Mark obviously wasn't as rapacious as he'd pretended, for a few seconds later the giggling stopped and I heard the sound of a shower starting up. I was left, happy and naked, drinking a bottle of beer in a room that reeked of sex. *** "Cor! It smells like a brothel in here." "How do you know what a brothel smells like?" "Cheeky!" Caroline had returned, fresh and clean, naked and carrying a ring binder. "Ready for Round Two?" "Whenever you are." She gestured for me to part my legs and then knelt between them, placing the ring binder on the floor by my chair. Taking my penis in one hand and my balls in the other, she started wanking me slowly. I soon rose beneath her ministrations and she examined my equipment closely, hefting my testicles and slipping the foreskin backwards and forwards. "God, I sometimes wish that I had a cock." "I sometimes wish that I had tits." "You do, why?" "I'd never get out of bed. I'd just lie there all day and play with them." Caroline chuckled at that, then stuck out her tongue and swirled the tip around my glans. "Just once, I'd like to pound a cock into someone's cunt. I'd like to shoot stuff deep inside a woman, or on her face, just to feel what it's like for a man. I'd also like a blowjob. And I'd like to wank off a balcony as well; or the Eiffel Tower." "You don't want much do you?" "Its not fair. We ought to be able to swap sex without having operations, just to see what it's like occasionally. What is it like, when you come I mean?" I shrugged. "I don't know. What's it like for you? Women seem to have much better orgasms. Ours seem fairly short, and not particularly intense most of the time. I suppose it depends who you're with as well. The best one I've ever had was the one you just gave me." "It was?" Caroline looked immensely proud of herself at that. "You did cum a lot. You've got a nice cock. You ought to shave your bollocks though. It's a lot better without all that hair in the way." She grabbed a tuft of hair and gave it a tug. "Ouch." "Sorry." She leant forward and enveloped the head of my dick in one smooth slurp. Her mouth was hot and wet and the feel of her tongue coating my glans in saliva was indescribably good. The sides of her breasts rested against the insides of my thighs, warm, soft and heavy. It doesn't get much better than this, I thought, as she lightly scratched my ball sack with her fingernails. Caroline drew back and detached herself from my cock with a parting kiss for the tip. She stood up, breasts bouncing, poetry in motion. "Get up. Lets get this blanket under you." She hauled me to my feet and turned to reach for the blanket off the coffee table. "Put this on the chair, I'll get you a condom." I folded the blanket and placed it over the upholstery, careful to position the cum stain and damp patch on the inside where neither the chair nor myself would touch it. I sat down again as Caroline returned with the bowl of condoms. Kneeling once more, she placed the bowl on the floor and extracted a foil wrapper from it. "Strawberry flavour," she pronounced, after examining it closely. She tore the foil and pulled out the greasy latex sheathe. Giving my dick a couple of brisk strokes to make sure it was still hard, she retracted my foreskin, placed the condom on the tip and then rolled it down my shaft with her thumb and forefinger in a series of jerks. Standing up once more she turned around and, with my hands on her hips to guide her, lowered herself onto my erection. She was hot and tight and despite the condom, felt wonderful. She wriggled a bit, getting herself comfortable, her hands on my knees to give support as she leaned forwards. I wasn't able to move in my position, but I had access to her entire rear end and could watch her vaginal opening and puckered arsehole as she manoeuvred on my shaft. She pushed herself upright in my lap and just sat for a moment, savouring the sensation of fullness no doubt. Then she half turned and groped over the side of the chair. She found what she was looking for and returned to her upright position, the ring binder held in both hands. "Shift back a bit," she ordered. I placed both hands on the armrests and pushed. Lifting both our weights I was able to shove and shuffle until I rested against the back of the chair; our feet, no longer able to reach the floor, stuck out straight in front. She mewled; obviously enjoying the sensations engendered by our position change, and leant her head back against my shoulder. Holding the binder up so I could see it, Caroline said, "This is my 'Slutbook'. I thought you might be interested; some of your work's going in here." I rested my chin on her shoulder, wrapped my arms around her waist, and looked at the folder. It was a plain black ring binder, common in offices worldwide. The uncommon thing about this particular one was the proliferation of glittery stars on the cover, and the large fluorescent letters proudly proclaiming it to be 'Caroline's Scrapbook - The Diary of a Slut'. I wondered what work of mine would be entered into the book, and then I remembered the photographs Mark had taken of Caroline's cum covered face. I was beyond the point of thinking that Mark and Caroline's sex life was pretty strange. My cock was wilting due to the absence of stimulating friction so I tried flexing it a couple of times to keep it interested. Caroline sensed my predicament and started massaging my shaft with her internal muscles. My prick was squeezed along its entire length by her soft sheathe. I inhaled sharply at the sudden pressure she exerted on my turgid member, my lungs filling with the scent of freshly washed woman. "I'll turn the pages," she told me, "You play with my tits." Ever one to be obliging, I reached up and hefted a firm, fleshy orb in either hand. They were glorious; warm, silky smooth skin clad, firm but infinitely malleable, fistfuls of fun. I clutched tight and squeezed, my fingertips sinking deep into the soft tissue whilst her nipples, solid little rubbery nubbins, pressed out between my fingers. I weighed them, kneaded them, and patted them, measuring the bounce as her flesh undulated. I pinched and flicked and pulled at her nipples, my reinvigorated cock becoming ever more rampant within the tight confines of Caroline's quim. "Having fun?" "Oh, yes." I held onto those twin orbs, her body moulded against my own from head to foot, as she opened her scrapbook. On the first page was a single, large photograph of Caroline in her wedding dress. She was holding a tulip shaped glass of champagne in both hands and looking very happy. Underneath, in large, bold typescript, were the words, "ENJOY! (UNLESS YOU'RE MUM OR DAD, IN WHICH CASE GO NO FURTHER.)" I sniggered, rolling her nipples between forefinger and thumb, "And what if they do find it?" "They shouldn't. If anything happens to us my sister knows where everything to get rid of is hidden." "Your sister?" "Yes, that's her," she said, turning the page. The next photograph was again one of Caroline in her wedding dress. This time, however, her face was liberally splattered with sperm. Her eyes were closed and her cheeks were hollowed out as she sucked on a cock. Another girl, obviously Caroline's twin, was nibbling her ear. "It wasn't taken on our wedding day. We kept the dress and went to a party in London when we got back from our honeymoon." "What's her name?" I had a sudden vision of being the meat in a twin sister sandwich and involuntarily rocked my hips, straining to bury myself deeper in her depths. "Ooh! Sarah. And I bet I know what you're thinking." I rubbed a fingertip around each of her areola as she turned the page again to reveal a snapshot of a Virgin Atlantic passenger plane, taken through an airport terminal window. "We joined the mile-high club on that plane." On the opposite leaf, beneath a photo of the outside of the Ritz, was a cotton napkin folded into a plastic Ziploc bag. The Ritz monogram was clearly evident, as was a stain that looked suspiciously like semen. "Mark took me for High Tea there as a treat. I made him wank off into the napkin under the table." I kissed my way up the side of her neck and nibbled her ear, much as her sister had done in the earlier photograph, as she turned the next leaf. Caroline didn't have time to explain why a used teabag had been cellotaped to the page as Mark returned at that moment. He was still nude and started laughing when he saw us. Caroline stuck her tongue out at him and spread her legs an obscenely wide distance apart over each arm of the chair, giving him a grandstand view of my cock nestled balls-deep inside his wife's clinging cunt. As Mark approached I saw that he was holding some photographs in his right hand. Caroline closed her scrapbook and dropped it down by the side of the chair again, then reached up for the pictures Mark proffered. He stooped down and began to run his fingers through Caroline's pubic hair as she examined the photographs. They were in order, the first being the picture Mark had taken as Caroline still held my dick. Her face and breasts were soaked in my semen; it looked like she'd been glazed in half-melted icing sugar. I felt a frisson of pride at this photographic proof of my virility and once again flexed my penis within Caroline's quim. She mewled in pleasure as she sorted through the snapshots, Mark making circling motions with his fingers on her clit whilst she decided which one to put in her scrapbook. The grip of her vaginal walls on my knob increased in force as her body reacted to the stimulus Mark was providing and as I continued to lavish attention on her breasts. "This one," she said, choosing the photo where she'd turned to face the camera with my cum puddled in her eye sockets. She dropped the photographs to the floor and dropped her head back onto my shoulder, closing her eyes. Caroline began wriggling in agitation as Mark and I continued to pleasure her. She moved her hands and began to stroke the inside of her thighs and I placed long, lingering kisses on her neck. Her breathing quickened and she took deeper breaths, pushing her tits firmly into my enthusiastically fondling hands. Her body slid sinuously over mine as her flesh flushed pink and her skin released a patina of slippery sweat. Mark leaned further down and tongued and kissed Caroline's navel as his fingers continued to work busily around her clitoris. Caroline began to gasp and shiver, shaking her head from side to side. Her buttocks clenched and her pelvic muscles gripped me tighter still as she neared her release. I twitched my cock inside her and her hands left her thighs to catch hold of my own hands. Her orgasm overtook her and she arched her back, driving her weight down on my impaling prick and crushing my hands to her breasts. She shuddered, her vagina clenching rhythmically around my shaft, my balls suddenly dampened by released moisture. Her fingernails scored indentations into the back of my hands as she clutched at them. She cried out in exultation with each release of breath as I pummelled her tits and Mark strummed her clitoris. Slowly, she came down from her high and Mark eased off on her sensitive nodule of nerve endings. Her hands dropped to her sides and she went limp, relaxing completely with a long, languorous sigh. I shifted my hands from her breasts to her waist and she just lay stretched out on me, basking in her afterglow. Mark looked at her lovingly for a while then growled, "Well, this won't do. It won't do at all." He reached out, gripped Caroline beneath her armpits and lifted her bodily off my cock and into the air. She squealed and he dropped her onto the coffee table. "Assume the position, wench. Doggy style I think." "Beast. Pervert!" Caroline accused. Mark responded with a growl and, demonstrating commendable alacrity, Caroline flopped over onto hands and knees, facing away from me. She tossed her head, hair flailing, and looked over her shoulder at me as I gazed in appreciation at her gaping pink slit. "Well, don't just sit there. Give it to me." Her languor of a few seconds ago had vanished. Once again she was the eager nymph, ready and willing to fuck with enthusiasm. Mark strode around to her head and I stood up, approaching her from behind. She was too far forwards so I stood with my shins against the table edge, gripped her by the hips, and pulled her back until my cock was snuggled upright between her arse cheeks. Caroline's head began to bob slowly on a level with Mark's crotch and I heard a slurp from the far end of the table. Mark was standing, legs apart, hands on hips, a beatific expression playing across his features. Taking half a step back, I gripped my dick below the head, pressed it against Caroline's flesh and then traced a path downwards with it. Slowly, I slid it across her puckered anus, pausing briefly as Caroline emitted a muffled "Hmmph." I pushed further down and the head of my cock lodged at the entrance to her cunt. I stayed like that for a moment, admiring the sight as I looked down my torso to where my flesh was joined to hers. Then, grasping her hips firmly once more, I eased forwards into the soft tightness of her opening passage. I stepped up to the table again, burying my sheathed cock to the hilt. Her tunnel, slick with secretions, resisted my penetration with a firm, but yielding pressure until I was buried deep inside her. I savoured the sensation, deadened though it undoubtedly was by the condom, and then withdrew slowly with a rearward rocking of my pelvis. I pushed in again, once more feeling her channel widen to accept my intrusion. I rocked back and again shoved home, slightly faster, revelling as much in the sight as in the sensation. Mark had shifted his hands to Caroline's head, dictating the pace of the fellatio as he thrust his hips repeatedly into her face. I began to drive into Caroline at the same speed, the slurping sounds from her mouth being matched by an obscene squelching from her pussy. When Mark thrust forward, I withdrew, and when he pulled back I plunged in as we took her in tandem. Caroline reached up a hand and pushed Mark away for just long enough to say, "Harder! Fuck harder." Then she returned to all fours and Mark pushed his way back into her throat. I picked up the pace, as requested, my shaft a spear of flesh I repeatedly thrust into her grasping fissure. My pelvis slapped into her buttocks with each push, producing a shockwave in her flesh that rippled forward with every blow. Each time I pushed her face into Marks groin with the vigour of my thrusting, she pressed back against me, driving her engorged pussy lips into contact with my scrotum. My balls and the front of my thighs became wet with her moisture as she seeped pussy juice around my shaft. The squelching and smacking sounds became louder; even her tits joined in the cacophony of pleasure as they swung and slapped together beneath her. I began panting for breath, unused to such exertion, my cock a blur of motion as I hammered into her. The sweat was running down me, oozing out of all of us, my hands slipping from their grip on Caroline's hips. Mark came with a grunt, his face red with effort. Caroline gagged and gasped as she swallowed his semen and then pulled back to suck oxygen into her lungs. Mark sank onto the floor and slumped against the wall beneath the window. Caroline dropped to her elbows and rested her head on a forearm, murmuring incoherent words of encouragement. Her other hand slid between her thighs and began to frig her clitoris, her fingernails scratching the underside of my shaft as I powered into her. Without Mark to counter my thrusts at the other end of the table, it began to inch slowly towards the window, jerkily propelled by the driving force of my fucking. Caroline's murmuring became a long, drawn out moan, rising in pitch as the assault on her senses pushed her towards another climax. My heart was pounding and I began to feel light-headed, my knees on the point of giving way. My strokes became shorter and shorter as the sensation escalated to an almost unbearable plane. Eyes closed, the entirety of my being became focused on the feeling in my swollen glans. I could sense the impending inevitability of my climax and plunged into the tight confines of her sopping tunnel for a final time. My thighs trembled with tension, my balls rose and contracted, my buttocks convulsed and I came, shooting my seed into the teat of the durex. The base of my cock throbbed with each pulse of sperm I sent into the rubber. My hands on her hips slid and slipped up her sweaty torso and I collapsed and lay atop her, driving her down flat onto the table, gulping for air. Caroline moaned, her vaginal walls squeezing rhythmically along my length as I shot my load, and she achieved her own release, squealing and trembling beneath me. And then it was over, the sensations fading, my cock shrinking and sliding out of her, the sweat on our bodies suddenly clammy. I heaved myself off Caroline's body and fell back into my chair, the condom dangling from my dick like a deflated pink balloon. Caroline remained in position and I watched as her gaping vaginal opening began to slowly contract. "Fucking A," she mumbled. "Fucking A," sighed Mark. "Too fucking A," I felt compelled to agree.