17 comments/ 73423 views/ 22 favorites Rural Encounter By: ukresearcher This is another wife seduction story with a definite cuckold element. I have tried to give it a lighter touch because in writing about this particular scenario, I'm trying to exercise a personal demon. * Anne and I met when we were both just starting our final years, she was twenty one and I was two years older. I am slightly below average height; in fact I am slightly below average in most respects except that I happen to be rather clever. In contrast, although not quite up to model standard, Anne is exceptionally attractive and her slim figure is generously rounded in all the right places. It was a constant mystery to me how I managed to end up with a woman like her. It was over a month from meeting her before I tried to get fully intimate and I introduced the subject by confessing that I hadn't had a lot of sexual experience. "How many?" she asked and I told her 'Only six' without pointing out that this was actually six times with the same girl. (In fact there was a second girl but, after an hour of build-up, fumbling a condom and finally getting it half way in, headlights coming up the drive signified her parent's unexpected return from the theatre. The ensuing panic and embarrassment guaranteed that I never got a second chance with her.) Anne said nothing about her own past and went on to resist my efforts to get in her pants for almost another three months. I assumed that she had nothing or little to confess and that long defence of her chastity tended to support the belief. Of course when she did finally yield to me it was natural to believe that it was my personal appeal that had eventually broken her resolve. A couple of weeks after that momentous day I proposed and we were married six months later. I was in halls of residence (to save money) and she still lived at home (for the same reason) so during that six month wait we had nowhere to go to enjoy each others bodies. Fortunately it was a long dry summer so we used bicycles to find secluded places in the countryside during day light freedom or down on the beach after dark. It was all we could do at the time but I have come to think that al fresco fucking has a special appeal of its own. Twice when naked in our countryside den, hikers walked past almost close enough to touch and once after a passionate session on the beach Anne found that she had lost her engagement ring. We had hardly started to frantically sift through the sand when a seedy looking middle aged man magically appeared from the cliffs just above to assist with the search. It was actually he who found the missing ring. Afterwards we both admitted to feeling a thrill knowing we had been watched. I think that generally that there is an extra excitement with the risk of getting caught that disappears with 'marital' sex in the safety and privacy of your own house. That said the love making was wonderful, even after marriage. I believed that Anne must have a natural talent for sex, especially inventiveness, because she suggested many sexual activities that I would never have thought of. The sex has remained good although tailing off slightly over the years. I do have a problem with slow recovery after ejaculating so long foreplay and oral has become a constant and necessary part of our lovemaking. I would even say that I like giving oral even more than fucking. After eight years of marriage we are still without ant offspring but this was initially by design. We had seen too many others rush into early parenthood only for pressures to quickly expose flaws in the relationship. Even when we abandoned contraception after five years, we did not start 'trying for a baby', knowing how this leads to copulation by the clock, with love and even sex becoming minor ingredients. Unfortunately two years later when a pregnancy had not yet happened, we started to wonder why not. However a recent medical check has shown that although my sperm count is slightly below normal there is no reason why impregnation should not occur and that all we need is patience. It was the annual British heat wave and for the latter part of the week we had sweltered at work but now it was Friday evening with the weekend to look forward to. Some two years previously I had spotted a rather luxurious picnic basket at a greatly reduced price in a charity shop. It had a built in cool box and all necessary accoutrements. Unfortunately, since then opportunity to use it had never coincided with decent weather until now. Anne was enthusiastically receptive to my suggestion that we spend Saturday out in the countryside. We drove without hurrying for just over an hour, moving from major to minor and then to country roads. Near to a narrow lane I parked the car in a lay by and we set off walking up the lane with me carrying the picnic basket. That damn basket seemed pretty light at the start but by the time we reached my planned picnic spot it felt like a dead weight. We went through a gate into a field and crossed that and another, being careful to walk down the edges of the fields and keeping a wary look out for possible bulls. About fifteen minutes steady walking brought us to the promising location that I had noted on the large scale ordinance survey map. It was a large meadow bounded to the north by a small wood and with a wide stream running down the far side. We set up the picnic on light dappled ground, partially protected from the direct glare of the hot sun by the spreading branches of a large old oak tree. The question was should we explore first or eat first. I voted for eating but with ulterior motives. The previous three nights had been so unpleasantly hot and sticky that I don't think either Anne or I even considered indulging in sex and the forecast was that the next three nights, at least, would be the same. My mind was working on the lines that there might be opportunity for some carnal pleasure in the cool and seclusion of the wood. This was not just a hopeful fantasy because Anne had dropped some pretty broad hints that she was open to a bit of adventure. It would be nice to shag in the open air again after a gap of eight years. Anne unpacked the basket and laid out the picnic fare, bar-b-cued chicken drumsticks, small pork pies, hard boiled eggs, tomatoes, grapes, cucumber and bread and butter with a large fresh cream cake to follow. She also filled a plastic cup each with iced lemonade from the vacuum flask. Tasks completed Anne stretched out her legs and pulled the hem of her dress up to the top of her thighs, to benefit from sunlight filtering through the leaves overhead. We tucked in but had barely started eating when, from part way across the field and angry voiced shouted, "You're trespassing, this is private land." I looked up to see a very tall male figure striding purposefully towards us. I reckon troops in the desert during WW2 dressed in very similar manner. He was wearing baggy tan shorts to mid thigh, a similarly coloured shirt open almost to the waist and with the outfit finished off by heavy laced up brown boots and a wide brimmed hat. Drawing closer he pointed vaguely behind him and asked, "Didn't you see the Private notice or did you just decide to ignore it?" I had jumped to my feet defensively, well aware that if violence were to be involved I would stand very little chance. Making my voice apologetic I explained, "We came from that direction and there wasn't any notice. I'm sorry if we shouldn't be here so we'll pack up and leave immediately." But then, I couldn't resist adding," Not that we are doing any harm. We don't walk on crops, we close gates and we would have taken all our rubbish home." My words seemed to mollify him, (or maybe it was the sight of my wife's still exposed legs). "I may have been a bit hasty," he admitted, "I've had a lot of trouble with travellers trying to set up camp on my land." Then he grinned and said, "Tell you what, if you give me a slice of that delicious looking cream cake you've got my permission to stay as long as you like." Anne picked up a knife to cut the cake but he insisted on waiting until we got to that stage of the picnic, but did accept a spare drumstick to be going on with. I never realised what trouble very tall people have with their bodies. Standing up, the farmer looked impressive but sitting on the ground he seemed rather awkward. He did not seem to know what to do with his long legs, finally finishing with them bent double, with knees tucked under his chin. For future reference I should point out that, in terms of a clock face, my wife was sitting at six with me at ten and our guest at two o'clock. As he was making himself comfortable, Anne looked casually over at him and then did a kind of double take. Even more oddly, she then quickly glanced in my direction before looking back at him. I assumed that she too was amused by his posture or was possibly admiring his tan for every bit of exposed skin, from face down to legs, was a uniform weathered bronze. The farmer having introduced himself as 'John' started asking questions about us so I gave him a brief overview of our lives and then he in turn talked about his farm. It seems he ran an old fashioned mixed economy system involving cows, pigs and poultry with most of his growing crops used to feed the livestock. He said that he mainly sold his produce to shops in the two local small market towns but some direct to the public at various farmers markets. Anne did not seem to be listening, just gazing fixedly in his direction and on the two occasions he spoke specifically to her he had to repeat the question. John seemed secretly amused by something but I could not see anything at all funny. When not in an irate mood it was possible that he found humour in many things. Anne's behaviour also intrigued me. After failing to spot what she was staring at I decided she was deep in thought and simply staring into space. Whatever the reason, it was rather poor manners and quite unlike my wife. She even needed to be snapped out of her reverie to cut the cake but having handed out the slices, quickly hurried back to her place. I was now hoping that when John had eaten his cake he would quickly leave, mainly because I had not abandoned my hopes of a romp in the woods but I was also growing uncomfortable at the increasing number of admiring glances he kept throwing in the direction of my lovely wife. Unfortunately, having licked his lips and fingers, he asked my opinion on a countryside topic, giving every sign of intending to stay much longer. As I considered my answer, John suddenly switched his eyes from me to Anne and with a big grin said, "It is quite real, every bit." Without her gaze wavering my wife responded by moving her head slowly from side to side. "You can give it a squeeze to make sure if you want" he offered. My wife immediately started to urgently scramble forward and in that instant I realised what had so fixedly grabbed her attention. If he was not wearing underwear then she must have an unfettered view of his penis through the gaping leg of his shorts. "Now, just a sodding minute," I said loudly. John's voice was condescending. "Don't tell me that you are so insecure that you can't trust your wife to innocently satisfy her healthy curiosity?" "No -- but" I stammered, hating the fact that he had somehow managed to put me in the wrong. "Let me ask you this," he said calmly. "Suppose you were alone with a female who had such gorgeous tits that you couldn't stop looking at them and suppose she said you could check their authenticity. "Honestly, would you?" After glancing quickly at Anne I gave a truthful affirmative answer. "Now, same situation but this time your wife is there, would you still feel the ladies breasts?" "Definitely not," I said firmly and from the look on the farmer's face I knew I had fallen into some kind of trap. "I suggest that you have your answers completely the wrong way round," he purred. "To clarify: Suppose I had waited until you had gone to satisfy a call of nature in the woods before making my offer to your lovely wife. Wouldn't you think that underhand and devious and suspect me of an ulterior motive?" I conceded the point and reluctantly nodded permission to continue. My expectantly waiting wife immediately launched forward and her hand disappeared between the farmer's bronzed legs but instead of snatching a quick squeeze and withdrawing, her other hand followed the first. This movement pushed back the material of his shorts to reveal his erect cock to my curious eyes and in that moment I understood her fascination because the thing seemed impossibly huge. I had seen plenty of large cocks during my private internet porn forays but this impressive organ seemed to belong to a different order of magnitude. Anne was sliding her grasping fingers hand over hand as if trying to pull him towards her. It was obvious that her fingers came nowhere near encompassing the girth and there was also plenty of room for plenty more hands along the long shaft. I was unable to look away. I'm not sure how long this continued but it seemed like forever. Eventually I did manage to switch gaze to my wife's face and what I saw shocked me. Her mouth was hanging open with her tongue flicking out, probing the air, just like a snake. I felt a choking sensation and in the same instant John grasped her wrists to firmly move her hands away saying gently, "That's enough for now -- I'm afraid you're poor hubby is getting all hot and bothered." With a look of disappointment on her face, Anne started to move back to her place, taking care to avoid looking in my direction but any possible awkwardness was distracted by a large raindrop hitting one of the plastic plates and a simultaneous crash of thunder from directly overhead. We all three looked up at the sky to see that a very large black cloud had advanced from behind the wood and the rest of the sky was clouding and darkening. John warned that we were about to have a downpour any second but, while quickly gathering up the picnic stuff, I said we could make it back to the car in time if we hurried. "You'd be better coming back to the farmhouse, it's only three minutes away," John invited. My main concern was getting my wife far away from the tempting python in the farmer's shorts so I stubbornly insisted that making a dash for the car was the best option. "Don't be silly," Anne said, "It took more than fifteen minutes to get here, we're going to get absolutely soaked." "Come with me, have a cup of tea, meet my wife and I'll run you round to your car when the rain eases," John suggested sensibly and the mention of a 'wife' effectively removed my big objection. He started striding off, Anne running alongside him and with me following behind just out of earshot. Apart from a few odd drops the rain held off and on entering the farmyard they paused to let me catch up. Pointing to an empty parking space beside his large SUV, John said that it looked as if his wife had popped out but joked that he could still manage to put the kettle on. However once inside the kitchen he made the welcome suggestion that we might prefer iced homemade ginger beer instead. He filled a pint glass for me, a more ladylike tumbler for Anne, and tipped the remainder of the bottle into his own large glass. It was delicious and refreshing because I felt particularly parched, (I had first been conscious of my very dry mouth during Anne's adoration of his overlarge phallus). We carried our glasses though to the lounge where Anne sat on a large settee and I was waved to a facing armchair. John joined my wife on the settee but taking care to sit at the opposite end to her. There followed some twenty minutes conversation but a reverse of before in that all his questions were directed to Anne while I was almost ignored. I had emptied my glass and was wishing there was more when I became acutely aware of a busting bladder. There was no question of waiting till we were home so I had to mention my problem. "There's an en-suite upstairs but it's awkward to find," John told me. "It is easier if you use the one outside. It's through the kitchen and across the corner of the yard. You can't miss it and the rain seems to have stopped at the moment." Outside, I immediately spotted the heavy looking door bearing the letters, 'WC". I lifted the latch, yanked the door open and urgently ran in, not noticing that the door had swung closed behind be until I was plunged into total darkness. Fortunately I had noted the position of the toilet so I pointed my painful penis in that direction and let go, to be reassured by the sound of urine hitting water. It was when I finished that my problem materialised because the door would not push open and my groping fingers could feel no indication of an opening mechanism. At first I managed to control my panic but visions of my wife and the farmer left alone together soon had me hammering on the door and shouting at the top of my voice. Hurting my hand on a raised nail head quickly put an end to this and I resigned myself to waiting for release. I spent over half an hour of mental torment in the black hell hole with the lewd images in my head constantly multiplying before John tapped on the door and enquired if I was in there. I yelled that I was and he opened the door saying, "I'm sorry, I should have realised what had happened to you." It was an apology but he was grinning and he didn't sound the least bit sorry. "I didn't know the light bulb had gone otherwise you would have spotted the bit of string that lifts the latch from the inside." Somewhat mollified, I followed him back inside and was immensely relieved to find Anne sitting innocently exactly where I had left her. But on reflection she looked far too innocent with knees primly together and hands folded demurely on her lap. I started to explain what had happened but John interrupted to say, "While you were out I promised your wife that I would show her round upstairs." I stood up but he said, "It's a bit cramped up there so I'll give you a separate tour later." I was uneasy but with no grounds to argue I stood until, as they started up the narrow stairs, I plainly saw his hand on my wife's bottom. "I'm coming too," I said angrily. He turned and looked at me with his previously affable face completely gone and in that moment I realised how little chance I would have in a physical confrontation. "I decide who goes upstairs, you wait here until I say," he said coldly. Rather shocked, I returned to my chair, desperately trying to convince myself that I was panicking over nothing. When they had not returned after ten minutes, growing anxiety drew me to the bottom of the stairs where I started listening intently. For two or three minutes there was nothing and I started to relax but then I heard a noise that sounded very like a suppressed moan. When it was quickly followed by a couple more I found myself heading up the stairs. However, after two or three steps I stopped, halted by the thought of how foolish I would look if the sounds had been completely misinterpreted by my fevered imagination. That particular noise repeated intermittently several times more before being replaced by the rhythmic sound of bedsprings but, in my new frame of mind I remained immobile, desperately trying to conjure alternative explanations for the obvious. After a while I forced myself back to the chair and sat concentrating on blanking out the now fainter sounds from overhead. Suddenly there was a new noise -- it was the familiar sound of my wife of the verge of orgasm, but far far louder than any she had emitted when with me. Once started the sounds didn't stop, even growing in volume. I ran to the stairs and a quarter way up but no further. I stopped partly through fear of the larger man but mainly because I wasn't at all sure if I could handle what I knew I would find. Instead I sank to my knees and spent the next twenty minutes with my guts in a vice, crying and hyperventilating while listening to my wife's cries to God, her screams of how good it felt and the sounds of endless orgasms. Rural Encounter When the activity finally stilled to silence I walked numbly back to the chair, surprised to find I had a painfully stiff penis. I sat in a kind of limbo for a while until the farmer reappeared looking very cheerful. Without a trace of self-consciousness he beckoned me to stand and announced, "Anne's decided to take a shower so this is a good time for me to run you round to pick up your car. You can tail me back to the yard." I followed in silence. All I could think was that this was almost over. Once I had the car I could grab my wife, hurry home and sort out the whole bloody mess there. During the short journey I had nothing to say and it seems neither had he but I was exceedingly irritated by his constant tuneless whistling. Drawing up behind my vehicle I had already started opening the door when John put a hand on my arm to stop me saying, "You and your wife are spending the night at the farm because I promised her I'd take you both to the big farmer's market tomorrow morning." He paused and went on, "But Anne says she'll understand if you prefer to go straight home from here. I'll deliver her back to you after the market, sometime tomorrow afternoon." "I'll follow you back to the farm," I told him through tight lips. "It's up to you," he said but there was obvious displeasure in his voice and I drew a small measure of satisfaction from that. Anne was on the settee working on her make-up but she stood up as I entered. John was only a couple of steps behind me but he merely poked his head in the room to say the he had to look after the cows but shouldn't be much more than an hour. This was my chance to escape. As soon as he was busy, all I had to do was grab my wife, by force if necessary, and rush her out to the car. Anne walked towards me smiling. She looked very happy and carefree without even a trace of guilt. "I love you so very much," she said. Suddenly I knew I couldn't wait until we were home, "What happened upstairs?" I blurted. Looking straight into my eyes she said softly, "You know what happened upstairs." "I want you to tell me." "He fucked me -- is that what you want me to say?" "I want you to tell exactly what happened -- everything." Anne gave me a long look before saying, "Darling, I don't want to hurt you any more than I have already. Are you sure?" "I need to know." My wife nodded and taking my hand led me to the settee where we sat with her still clasping my fingers and looking me straight in the eyes. Speaking gently but clearly she said, "Sweetheart, I love you as much as ever but you've got to know it was the most wonderful experience of my life. When John took me upstairs I already knew what was going to happen but I don't think you did. In the bedroom I quickly got his cock stiff again. It didn't take very long then I removed my panties and lay on the bed with my legs open ready for him. I was very wet but still too tight and he had to work at getting his cock in me a bit at a time. It felt so good but it hurt quite a bit and I had had to jam a fist in my mouth to stop making noises that would let you guess what was going on." She stopped and took time to study my face before continuing, "When he was right up inside me I was so full and so stretched that my whole body seemed part of his gorgeous cock. I started to cum and couldn't hold back any more. You must have heard me cry out and although it's rather mean, I got an extra thrill from fact that you must know I was getting fucked. He started to move and from then on I couldn't stop cumming. I've never had multiple orgasms before and these were one after the other with a new one starting before the last one had finished. From then on I forgot all about you, in fact I forgot about everything except the wonderful feelings flooding right through my body." Anne paused again and I tried to speak but my mouth wouldn't work. "I don't know exactly how long it lasted but I hoped it would go on forever," she went on. "Eventually it was his turn to cum and that was another revelation. Usually the only way I know you have ejaculated is when you stop moving but I could feel his sperm gushing into me, spurt after spurt after spurt. It felt like gallons of the stuff and that's when I had my biggest orgasm of the lot. After that we talked a bit then he came down to you." "Did anything happen before -- while I was stuck in the toilet?" My wife nodded emphatically. "That's when it all really started. You were hardly out of the room before I had my hands up his leg -- I just had to have another feel at that wonderful cock. John made it easier by standing up and dropping his shorts. I think he deliberately trapped you because he wasn't at all worried about you coming back. I could only get the very end of his cock in my mouth but I was able to lick every bit including his big balls. They're heavy, like extra large hens eggs. I carried on for ages. I wanted to make him cum but just as I thought he was close John said it was his turn to feel me so I let him suck my tits and put some fingers in me but I wouldn't kiss him. It was his cock not his fingers that I wanted there and I begged him to do it but he said, 'I better release your poor husband, he'll be getting frantic.' I insisted that you'd be OK for a little bit longer but John said that wasn't fair. I was going to cry until he said he intended to take me upstairs and fuck me properly. And he did" Anne waited expectantly for my reaction but I couldn't think of a thing to say. "Now you know why I think you should go home now while he's not here," she said. "John has promised to drop me off tomorrow." "I'm staying," I insisted stubbornly. My wife stared at me obviously choosing her words. "You do realise I'll be sleeping with him tonight?" That was a total shock. "What about his wife, she's bound to get back soon?" I stammered. "His wife is away all weekend visiting her parents. That's the whole point. Can you stand a whole night listing to me having sex -- and from the next room not the bottom of the stairs. Wouldn't you be better off miles away at home?" Ignoring the question I said, "I can understand how he seduced you so easily if I say I forgive you; can't we both go home now and forget about the Farmers market?" Anne spoke quietly as if talking to a child. "I've already been unfaithful to you and that won't change despite the number of times I do it with him so does it make any difference if I do or not. This is special. I reckon I could spend the rest of my life shagging hundreds of men and never find another cock like his. I've got this opportunity to spend a whole night enjoying him and I'd never forgive myself if I let it go, so I intend to stop no matter what you say. I love you and he won't harm me so why you don't go home and just try to forget me until tomorrow." "I don't want him at our house, that's why," I told her honestly, "And no matter what happens I want you to promise that you won't tell him where we live." I got my promise and we spent the rest of our time alone with Anne smothering me with kisses, repeating how much she loved me, saying what a loving, generous and understanding husband I was, and promising that she would never ever cheat again if I gave her just that one night. When John reappeared we were still sitting with our arms around each other. He nodded and said, "You two sorted things out then?" "David understands the situation. He's not going to object but he still doesn't want to go home," my wife reported. As soon as the TV program finished, without announcement, John stood and headed for the stairs. Anne jumped up eagerly to follow and I brought up the rear. At the bottom of the stairs he stood aside to let her go first then fell into step behind her. My wife walked straight into the bedroom where they had enjoyed their afternoon session but he turned, pointed to a room down a short corridor and said, "You'll sleep in there." But then, taking pity on me or for some other season he said, "I'll leave this door open so you can listen." I turned to go but from inside the room Anne's voice said firmly, "He can come in and watch if he wants." John didn't object but I again I could tell he wasn't pleased and that made me feel slightly better. However, when I entered the room and looked where to place myself, my wife said gently, "Darling, It's a bit embarrassing having you here at the start Go to your room, take your clothes off and come back in five minutes." John then got his revenge by adding, "And remember, you don't interfere in any way and you don't even speak unless spoken too." In the other bedroom I got undressed as instructed and waited. It was for longer than five minutes because I half expected a call. Walking through I carried my shirt dangling in front of me for two reasons. The first hoping to avoid direct comparison of my average endowment against his over abundance, the second being that the rain had cooled the air and I thought I may get chilled in a purely voyeur capacity. He lay reclining against a stack of pillows against the head of the bed while my naked wife was kneeling beside him, her hands grasping the thick shaft of he cock as she eager licked the bulbous head. As I walked fully into the room, Anne turned happily, gave me a big grin and said, "Isn't it magnificent. Now that you've seen it properly, can you understand why I'm so head over heels in love with this wonderful cock?" I gave a kind of nod but without really waiting for my response she went on enthusiastically, "It seems impossible but would you believe I can get almost all of it inside me?" I walked to the chair that had obviously been placed for my benefit near to the side of the bed but I was hardly seated before Anne abandoned her renewed licking and looked towards me. Holding his saliva wet shaft into a vertical position with one hand, she slide her other hand under his huge scrotum and bounced it on her palm. "Can you believe the size of these balls?" she asked with wonder in her voice. "They must be at least three times as big as of yours. Just imagine how many sperms he's got in there." Although acknowledging her words with a nod, I spared my imagination the task of visualising sperm quantities. By now she seemed intent on trying to swallow his whole penis and I was amazed at the length that she did manage to cram in her mouth. After some minutes she suddenly stopped, politely wiped the wetness from the end, bent the shaft in my direction and invited, "Would you like a lick?" This time I shook my head in an emphatic negative motion. "Go on," she urged. "One lick won't make you gay. I just want you to know why I like his lovely cock in my mouth so much." Again I refused but not without an immediate slight regret at having missed the chance to satisfy a long standing curiosity. Anne continued her oral ministrations with lascivious delight, licking up and down his long shaft, paying special attention to the crown and taking time out to give his testicles a generous tongue bath. I could remember some of her actions so vividly from personal experience that I could almost feel that she was doing it to me and glancing down was surprised to find that my penis was every bit as stiff as his. At this point my previously faithful wife moved one of her legs over his until she was straddling him with his cock touching her buttocks then, looking over her shoulder, she threw me a satisfied smirk that said, 'You aint seen nothing yet'. Placing one foot on either side of him she raised herself up and reached back through her legs to line his cock up with her cunt. Her vulva was open and there were definite signs of moisture clinging to the lips but I was not sure if these were signs of arousal or evidence left over from their afternoon fuck. Anne began to slowly impale herself on his rigid flesh and I watched with a compulsive fascination as it began to slowly disappear inside her body. She had claimed that she could take almost all inside her but comparing the combined length and width of that massive organ against her relatively small frame, I could not see how that was physically possible. More than once she paused for more than a minute and I thought that must be the limit but every time she returned to the task until only his balls remained outside the grip of her hungry cunt. Gradually she built up speed, periodically raising herself almost clear only to plunge violently back down but towards the end she most resembled a jockey frantically urging his mount past the winning post. By now I was leaning forward and to the right, straining for a better view and, although the thunderstorm had cooled the air, sweat was streaming down my face. I was undeniably very aroused but I had to wonder what I was doing in there with them. I would have been better staying in my own room even if that meant reliving the unknowing pain of the afternoon. By accepting the voyeur's chair I had sacrificed both my pride and all legal rights. Even without any participation, I was effectively condoning my wife's infidelity. The question was whether Anne would see my action as weakness or enlightened generosity and love. Next they switch to doggie style with my slut wife on her knees and John behind giving an exemplary demonstration of power fucking. Porn films, no matter how good, do not portray the full reality. They fail to show the all pervading smell of sex, the electricity in the atmosphere and the volume of noise. I believe that my wife's loud ecstatic cries would have disturbed cattle in that distant picnic field. I also realised that in driving terms, my own physical relationship with Anne never exceeded second and was mostly first gear, where the sex happening in front of me was all top gear, if not overdrive. The position that they chose to finish in was nominally 'missionary' but was completely unlike the one that I customarily used. He had her bottom raised on a pillow with legs bent up until her toes touched the top of the bed on either side of her head. John positioned himself with feet planted on the mattress and his body supported by hands clamped to the bed head. Technically this gave him the choice of two alternate motions, one up and down using arms and shoulders and the other the natural fucking action of the pelvis. I was to watch him use both to admirable affect, both separately and in combination and for a large proportion of the time his elongated organ was the only part of his body in contact with my wife. I love Anne and valued her chastity so would prefer that this encounter with John had not happened but must still admit that what I witnessed was wonderful in the true meaning of the word, 'full of wonder'. The effect that he had on her body was almost unbelievable. During the course of fifteen fantastic minutes he had her head thrashing from side to side in distraught passion, her body convulsing almost without stopping as a long succession of high octane orgasms shuddered through her and with her gaping mouth uttering a continuous high pitched banshee wail. It finished with an even faster series of thrusts until he suddenly stopped and, almost in slow motion; I watched his huge balls jerk as an almost unending number of spurts pumped semen deep into my wife's receptive body. Finally he flopped down upon her and for two or three minutes they lay welded together with both gasping for breath. Eventually he pushed himself clear to lie beside her with his cum smeared cock still erect but no longer rampantly so. Anne raised her head and looked at me for the first time in over an hour. Giving me a tired smile she lifted a hand and beckoned. Her legs were still spread and I could see that the skin of her genital area had a rosy hue but her actual cunt was a red rimmed gaping hole with a grey white viscous mass of ejaculate already oozing out. I knew with absolute certainty what she wanted and it was the very last thing I had any desire to do but I stood and moved forward like an automaton. We had never discussed anything remotely approaching this situation so I have to believe that my wife's control over me had to be telepathic. As my reluctant mouth drew nearer to her ravaged vagina my primary emotion was one of total revulsion but it was not without a degree of dread fascination. After all that I had watched there was also some satisfaction in being made a player in the scenario, no matter how minor the role. The moment my tongue made contact I was overwhelmed by what can nearest be described as a 'fever of the brain'. I do know that I went into a feeding frenzy with a compulsive need to suck all trace of him out of her but whether I was only trying to cleanse her or had some other more basic motive driving me, I do not know. It was only when my task was almost completed that I realised that I had ejaculated but it was not important, in terms of the moment it had no relevance. After the last lick I collapsed, both physically and emotionally drained. Anne leaned forward, lifted my head and tenderly kissed my cum coated mouth. "I love you so much," she said, "but now you've had your display, please go back to your own room and give us some privacy. I'll see you in the morning." I had no mental energy left to argue but more importantly, I had no desire to stay any longer. Once I was in that other bed I think I must have instantly fallen asleep. I was aroused at some point during the night by the sound of renewed sexual activity in the next room but did not reach full consciousness and next morning I again woke to the now familiar sound of a pounding bed. I had another stiff erection but this was excusable for beside the sex noises, I could smell them both on me and taste them on my lips. Thankfully this was only a short session or perhaps I only woke in time to overhear the latter stages. It was only when they had both gone downstairs that I sought relief for my bursting bladder. The bathroom was easy to find, contrary to his warning the previous day. I was not looking forward to facing John again but on arriving downstairs was pleasantly surprised to find he had already gone out to look after his livestock. That prospect still faced me on his return so I was in despondent mood but seeing my glum face Anne said, "Cheer up, we are going home as soon as you've eaten." "What about the farmer's market, I thought you had promised to help on his stall?" Anne grinned, "That was only a ploy to get us to stay overnight, I doubt if he really wants me getting in his way. Anyway, if we went to the market it would mean more sex afterwards, and I'm far too sore for a repeat of last night, besides which it wouldn't be fair on you." "But I thought that the sex with him was so fantastic," I muttered, not understanding why I was arguing the point. "It was but that's part of the trouble," Anne confirmed, "Much more of getting fucked like that, I might become addicted and I don't think our marriage could stand that." Then a sudden thought struck her and a broad smile filled her lovely face as she added, "If I happen to get that un-scratchable itch in the future, I do know where he lives." I would have liked to leave immediately but Anne insisted that I have a coffee and eat the toast she had already prepared. On departure, I tool a last look round the room and found it incredible that I had so meekly allowed the whole chain of events to occur. My hope was that it was a one time aberration that would not have a lasting effect on our marriage. We pulled out of the farmyard and as it receded in the rear view mirror I hoped I could put the events of the last twenty-four hours out of my mind as easily. Unfortunately Anne seemed to want to dwell on what had occurred. "What an absolutely fabulous day," she enthused. "I wish I'd known what I was missing a long time ago. I had a girlfriend once who said this guy she'd had was hung like a donkey and she told me that mentally she was on a different planet when his big cock was up her. Well with John I was in a completely different universe so his must have been bigger." Rural Encounter I tried to turn the conversation by asking a mundane question about home but my wife refused to be distracted, rushing on to say, "I had a couple of big cocks up me before I met you but they weren't within three inches of John's monster and neither had that kind of effect on me." "Wait a minute," I interrupted, "I thought I was your first." Anne burst into laughter. "Wherever did you get that idea?" "When I confessed my past, you didn't say anything about yours. You said you were saving yourself and it was over three months before we first did it, so naturally I assumed," I said lamely. "Darling, all girls do it. You let fun guys into your pants quickly but I only ever did it once on a first night and generally waited until the third date before opening my legs. The more steady guys, the potential husband material, have to wait a month to six weeks to check dedication. I knew very quickly that you were the one for me so I made you wait twice as long." "How many were there?" I asked with a tremor in my voice. "My love, don't get upset. It wasn't many more than twelve and that's only twice as many as you. It's much easier for females to get laid. I do know that the girls I hung around with put out a hell of a lot more than I did." I think I must have always had a big H imprinted on my forehead because all girls (except that one and Anne) made me wait for so long that I gave up. I came to the conclusion that all the talk of 'easy girls' was nothing but guys exaggerating for ego purposes. Only now was I realising quite how naïve I had been. In a strange way, the discovery that Anne had been screwed by many men before we met made it easier to accept her having been fucked by John. I had believed that she was exclusively mine and it was the loss of that exclusivity that I regretted most about her seduction. With that element removed I could see that it was just sex with no impact on the love we shared and, I had to admit that that while watching them copulating, I had never felt so alive in my life. All that I wanted to do was get home and into bed at the first opportunity to ease the painful ache in my balls. At home I had the afternoon and evening to get through with my frequent suggestions that we should have an early night being consistently resisted. In bed eventually I was understandably eager to finally have my turn but Anne quickly stated that her pussy was out of bounds, explaining that she was not only terribly sore but badly bruised inside. I couldn't hide my disappointment so she said "You can have a little lick if you want". Now I wasn't going to turn down the offer even though this seemed to be 'back in the old routine' but the way she winced from just the touch of my tongue showed that her claimed tenderness was not an exaggeration. For the first week, at night I spent the time waiting for sleep reliving the hours spent at the farm but after that it became only an occasional torment and my wife eventually stopped reminding me of how much she had enjoyed herself. Real life reasserted itself; we ate out, visited friends, carried on with hobbies and did the myriad everyday things that comprise the fabric of existence. The only change was Anne suggesting that as neither of us were preoccupied with having children we could afford to delay for a year or two more. I was happy to agree. Despite the pretence of a return to normal, on the internet I developed a compulsion to surf the porn sites in search of extra large cocks. Eventually I found what I was looking for. It was a twenty minute clip of a black guy with a voluptuous Latina girl. His endowment was very close to that of the farmer and I watched the video over and over again. My PC room was upstairs so I watched after dark because when Anne put the light on for the stairs I had adequate warning to safely switch screens. One night when the clip was half way through, Anne's voice at my shoulder said," Now that is another very gorgeous cock." With a reflex twitch I killed the screen but my wife insisted firmly that I put it back saying, "I want to see it from the start." I did as told and we sat side by side watching with me feeling both self conscious and embarrassed. "Do you imagine that I am that girl?" she asked and the suddenness of the question caught me unprepared to lie. Anne's hand sought out my stiff cock through my pants. "Do you wish he was here fucking me?" "Yes," I admitted and I know she felt my penis twitch. "Would you like it if he was here now and that beautiful black cock was inside me and not her? Again I didn't need to speak for Anne to know my answer. "And would you like to lick his cum out of my cunt just like you did with John's?" I couldn't answer but even had my penis stayed flaccid my heightened breathing would have given me away. With a small laugh, Anne eased down my zip, slid her hand inside and we spent several minutes silently watching the video with her massaging and squeezing my dick. Then she asked, "And how would you like us to go down to the farm next weekend to see John -- his wife should be away again." I'm not sure if it was spontaneous or due to my wife's manual urging but I ejaculated suddenly and with some force. "That's settled then," she said smugly. A minute or two later my overheated brain cooled sufficiently to allow sensible thoughts in and I asked, "Are back on the pill?" "No but it doesn't matter," she said. "I never took the 'morning after' pill last time and I didn't get pregnant so that proves I was safe. I'm at exactly the same point in my cycle so I'm bound to be OK again." Postscript. This memory didn't resurface until some weeks after the above. When we were on our honeymoon, walking along the seafront, Anne suddenly said, "Let's get our fortunes told so we know what the future will bring." Now I have always been a total sceptic but I was pleased to go along just to keep my new wife happy, however I did insist that we had our readings at least an hour apart so that the woman couldn't easily connect us. Excitedly pointing to a stand in the distance, Anne said we should go there as she had heard that that particular palmist was very, very good. I remained where I was and watched my wife walk away to disappear behind the door flap, only to return twenty minutes later with her face wreathed in smiles. "We're going to have a very long and happy marriage," she told me happily. Other information the woman had given was surprisingly accurate but nothing that couldn't be explained by acute observation and finely tuned intuition. "I asked about children," Anne went on, "But she said that wasn't clear. The only certain thing is that my first child is going to be a son." Later in the afternoon I went for my turn. Right from the start the old crone seemed to hit the nail on the head to a statistically significant degree and I was beginning to waver until she announced, "You will only father one child and it will be a girl." I returned to Anne laughing and shaking my head. "It's all total mumbo jumbo," I declared, "- She can't even get our kids sex the same." With that I pushed the experience from my mind.