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  • My Wifes First Threesome

    It had been about six years since my wife and I had bought our house, and our guest bedroom was in need of a good painting. So, I hired a local painter to take care of the job. The guy had been recommended to me by a friend, and after doing a quick appraisal, he told me he could take care of the room in one day. “No problem,” I said, “we’ll be here all Saturday.”

    Around noon on Saturday, the painter — Rob was his name — arrived at the house. My wife, Emily, greeted him at the door, and showed him up to the guest room while I took care of some work in the den. After leading him upstairs, Emily returned to the den to join me, sitting on my lap as I looked over some business reports. Nonchalantly, I grazed my hand across her leg, rubbing her thigh and continuing my reading. Emily was wearing this tight little miniskirt, and after a few minutes, my mind had drifted from what was on those reports to what was concealed underneath that skirt. I began thinking about the amazing sex we had had last night, and I was becoming increasingly horny as I relived those memories. Subtly, I slid my hand in between my wife’s tanned, juicy thighs, and began to edge closer to her nether-regions.

    Upon realizing what I was up to, Emily quickly snapped her legs completely closed. “Jason!” she scolded, “the painter is right upstairs!” I rolled my eyes. Yes, sex with Emily was great, but sometimes, I wished she could be just a little less uptight. While she was by no means shy in the bedroom — she loved to suck cock and had demanded anal on multiple occasions — she was absolutely adamant about keeping our sex life entirely between us. She disliked PDA, wasn’t fond of nude beaches, and absolutely loathed porn. Basically, she felt sex and nudity should be shared between one man and one woman, without others seeing or knowing about it. Obviously, with this firm stance, a quickie with the painter upstairs was out of the question.

    But, being a horny male, I persisted. “Come on, baby, just a quick one.” She frowned.

    “And what if the painter comes down and sees us?” she asked.

    I thought about this for a minute. Desperate to just get into those panties — sex or not — I compromised. “You just sit here and I’ll finger you,” I proposed. “If we hear him coming, I’ll move my hand, and he’ll be none the wiser.” To make my offer even more appealing, I slid my hand a little further up Emily’s leg, prodding her pussy with my pinky finger. Reluctantly, she spread her legs a few inches.
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  • Sara and the Frat Party

    This was Sara’s first Frat Party and she was a little nervous. She had heard about how wild they sometimes got. She was alone and thought that if it got too out of hand, she could always leave and walk back to her apartment house. Her sister/roommate was on a date and probably was going to get fucked, so Sara was looking for a distraction. She really didn’t feel like sitting in her room alone.

    When she arrived, she was greeted at once and shown downstairs to the “party room.” It was wall to wall people and the smoke almost gagged her. There was a pool table in the middle of the room covered with a sheet of plywood to make a table. Under it was a beer keg and what looked like a thousand beer glasses on the table, some full but mostly empty. Someone filled a glass for her and she settled back to watch.

    Some couples were dancing to hard rock music so loud it hurt her ears. Others were trying to talk and needing to yell at the top of their lungs to be heard. Some were making out in the corners. She watched them and wondered how far they would go. Their hands were already roaming. She sipped on her beer and made small talk with a couple of girls nearby. She had to yell. She was not sure this was for her.

    Soon, someone organized a drinking game involving whiskey and beer. Jugs were passed around and the game consisted of drinking as much as possible in as short a time as possible. She took part for a while and it was fun, until she felt a little woozy and dropped out.

    In the corner watching her was a tall good looking guy. She noticed him and smiled and he came over and introduced himself. “Hi,” he said, “my name is Phil. You’re new here aren’t you? Freshman?” “Yeah,” she replied, “I’m Sara. There’s a first time for everything. I hope to have a good time.”

    “Well, there is no way a hot girl like you could not have a good time here!” He said. She laughed and said, “Thanks, but as long as there are hot guys like you around, I’m sure I will enjoy myself.” She blushed and knew the drink was getting to her. He made a face and she playfully punched him. She was thinking that maybe this wasn’t so bad after all. She liked the way he laughed. She liked the way he looked at her.

    “So, tell me Phil, what happens at these parties? I’ve heard they can get pretty wild?”

    “They can get just as wild as you want them to, Sara, but now that I’ve adopted you, I will watch out for you.”

    “Do you adopt freshman girls often?” She asked. “As often as I can, for sure. Where do you live?”

    “My sister Patty and I just got an apartment over on sixth,” she replied. “Still learning my way around. Do you know her?”

    “I don’t think so, but if she’s as sexy as you, maybe I should.” Sara laughed again and said, “Oh no you don’t mister. You’d like her, but I saw you first.”

    “Ok with me, Sara.” This was sounding better all the time. “Hey, would you dance with me?” He took her hand and they fought their way through the crowd.

    The music was louder than ever and even though it was a fast song, there was no chance of moving very fast. They more or less stayed close and their bodies touched as they danced. Sara was surprised that she felt aroused, but with this hunk rubbing against her, she couldn’t help it. She knew she was getting to him as well with her little tank top and short skirt barely hiding her tits and ass. A couple of times she thought she felt him getting hard. It pleased her. She could feel the drinks even more now. She pressed closer to Phil She was having fun! She was sorry when the music stopped.
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  • Fertility Doctor

    My wife and I had been trying to get pregnant for nearly a year before we decided to get checked for fertility. Well my wife went to her doctor and was told that she was in complete working order so it was my turn to go get my seed tested.

    What a dismal place that doctor’s office was. As I sat in the waiting room I was afraid I’d catch something just sitting there.

    Finally after an hour the doctor was ready for me. When I saw the doctor it definitely lifted my spirits after sitting around so long in the drab little waiting room.

    “Hello, I’m Dr. Emily Wilson. If you’ll come with me I’ll take you back and we can get started.” Emily said.

    Dr. Emily Wilson is in her early 30’s with long blonde hair, long legs, and a great figure accentuated by the short skirt and tight blouse she was wearing. She was really sexy, and I couldn’t help thinking that I wouldn’t mind playing doctor with her.

    Emily led me back to a small room.

    “Okay, it says here that you’re here for a fertility check. To do a sperm count and viability test I’ll need you to give a semen sample.” Emily said.

    “I pretty much knew that doc.” I said.

    “Well, I’ve taken to saying it because you would not believe the number of men that come in here and fill the specimen jar with urine. Speaking of which, you’ll need this.” Emily said.

    She gave me a little cup to catch my sample in.

    “There are some magazines in there for…inspiration. I’ll be back to see how you’re doing in a little while.” Emily said.

    She then left me to do my thing.

    I thumbed through the magazines one by one trying to find something that would arouse me, but nothing worked.

    After nearly an hour Emily knocked on the door and entered.

    “Are you having problems?” Dr. Wilson asked.

    “I’m afraid so. These magazines just aren’t working. I should have known they wouldn’t; I have never been able to become aroused from just pictures before.” I said.

    “We have a room with a TV and some adult videos; would a video help?” Emily asked.

    “I’m afraid not doc. Videos have just as little affect as pictures.” I said.

    “Well it appears as if something is having the desired affect.” Emily said.

    Sure enough my cock was starting to wake up.
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  • Watching My Sweet Wife

    My wife and I have been married for almost 7 years. She’s 31, blonde with blue eyes, with a terrific, curvy body and fantastic 36c tits. She’s shy and conservative, which makes the fantasy of seeing her with another guy just that much more erotic! I love seeing other guys checking her out, and I know that they’re wondering what those tits would look like naked! I just wish she’d show them off sometime!

    I like the idea of going to a party with my wife where the lights are fairly dim, and after a few drinks I convince her to remove her bra so she can tease the guys who are checking her out. Hopefully, it would be crowded there, with lots of touching, and I’d see some guy sneaking a quick feel of her as we roamed through the crowd.

    Meanwhile I’d be doing the same for any girls that happened to bump into me, enjoying knowing that my wife is watching me and the girls who let themselves be touched and groped.

    She’d see me grabbing a girl’s tit or ass and smile, and let some stranger grab her in return. At some point I’d see a guy’s hand caressing her tits, not just going for a quick grab, but holding them and squeezing them… I’d see her hand reach down to his crotch, rubbing over his obviously hard cock.

    As we mingle a little more, have another drink, she tells me that he’s asked her to check with her husband to see if it’s OK if he slides his hand up under her shirt. Even in the dim lights, I can see that her face is flushed, and she’s excited. I tell her to let him if she wants…. the next thing I know is the guy is standing behind her, reaching around her front, his hand caressing just under her braless full tits, still over her shirt. My shy little wife then holds out the bottom of her shirt, and he takes the cue to reach under it to grab her naked tits…. My lovely wife’s eyes widen as the stranger’s hand cups her warm, soft breast.

    The whole time I’m standing nearby, watching, occasionally grabbing and rubbing the pretty girls who are talking with me or brushing past, but never taking my eyes off my wife, allowing the stranger to grope her tits under her shirt…

    I keep watching, seeing his hands grabbing her tits under her tight shirt… I see the outline of his hands squeezing and caressing her tits, as she relaxes, leans back and smiles at me… her hand disappears behind her back and I know that she’s trying to grab his cock…..
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  • Meat The Preachers Wife

    Amber Sullivan sat at the kitchen table, sipped tea, and thought about her husband and her marriage. The day before had been her third wedding anniversary, but her husband had not mentioned it, had not acknowledged it. Amber sighed and a frown crossed her face. It’s not as if he forgot it, she thought; it’s as if he ignored it, as if it didn’t mean anything to him.

    Three years…and he…She sighed again. Of course, Lucas had a lot on his mind, and he was a minister, and he naturally…She wagged her head as she thought about her husband, and about the past few months.

    Lucas had gradually stopped showing any affection for her, or even any interest in her. He spent more and more time away from her, ministering to his “flock,” visiting the sick, the infirm, the aged, preparing his sermons. And sex–forget about it. She gave out a sardonic little chuckle.

    From the first day of their marriage, Lucas had been squeamish, finicky, prudish when it came to sex. It almost seemed as if he looked upon sex as debasing, distasteful, a painful duty to perform. And gradually he had shown, he had made it clear, that he wasn’t interested in sex.

    When was the last time we did it? she asked herself. Two weeks ago? Again, she gave out a wry chuckle. And even then, it was…She wagged her head as she thought about it. Lucas had mounted her, had given her a dozen strokes, shot his load, and then had rolled off her. And that had been it….

    Hammering sounds from the porch interrupted her thought. She walked to the kitchen screen door and looked out. Cliff Mason was hard at work, repairing a section of the parsonage porch.

    Amber watched the carpenter for a moment, and she felt a tingle run over her and a warmth that was centered in her breasts and between her thighs. He wore a tank-top and cutoff jeans. He was black and big and muscular, and his neck, arms and legs glowed with a light sheen of perspiration. Her gaze was drawn to his thick pink lips, and she felt a fizzy tingling run up and down her body; her heart beat faster and her throat and lips were suddenly dry.

    She opened the screen door and said, “About time for a break, isn’t it? Would you like some iced tea?”

    Cliff Mason looked up, smiled, and said, “You read my mind.”
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  • The Massage

    Cindy parked her car in the client space outside the spa. She was smiling despite the horrible day she had just had. She was finally going to treat herself to a massage. She couldn’t think of anything she needed worse right now.

    She entered the spa and the attendant showed her to the ladies changing room where she could undress and put on one of the nice white fluffy robes that the spa provided. Cindy stripped off her clothes and stored them in the locker.

    After donning the robe, she went out to the lobby and waited to be called. She sank down into the overstuffed chair and closed her eyes. “Mmmmmmmmm, so comfortable,” she thought. She felt some of the day’s stress slip away. She was almost asleep when she heard someone calling her name.

    “Cindy?” she heard a deep male voice ask.

    “Yes,” she answered, opening her eyes and looking up at the young man standing before her. “Wow, are all the masseurs this cute?” she thought to herself.

    “Hi, I’m Josh,” he said extending his hand. Cindy reached up to shake his hand and gasped at the electric shock that ran thru her at the touch of his hand.

    “Damn, calm down girl,” she told herself. “You’re old enough to be his mother.” “Well, maybe just his aunt,” she thought, smiling to herself.

    “This way, please,” Josh said as he gently took her elbow and lead her toward the massage room. They entered the room, which was dimly lit, with soft smoothing music playing in the background.

    “OK, I’m going to leave the room for a few minutes and I want you to take off your robe, hang it on this hook, and then lay face down on this table with your face in this opening,” said Josh. “OK,” smiled Cindy.

    She quickly disrobed and laid face down on the table, covering herself with the sheet.

    There was a knock on the door. “Ready?” asked Josh. “Yes,” replied Cindy.

    Josh applied warm scented oil to his hands and started rubbing her shoulders. “You’re very tense,” said Josh. “Yes, I know,” answered Cindy. “Well, just relax and I will take care of those knots,” said Josh. He massaged her shoulders for several minutes until the knots had disappeared.

    Cindy found herself becoming aroused by the feel of masculine hands on her body. “Stop it,” she told herself. It’s just a massage.

    “Is it warm enough in here?” asked Josh. “Oh yes,” answered Cindy. “A little too warm,” she thought to herself as she felt her face flush.

    Josh took the sheet and pulled it down until it was just covering her buttocks and concentrated on her lower back. As he rubbed her lower back in a circular motion, he occasionally touched the tops of her butt cheeks. Cindy felt her pussy beginning to get wet.
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  • One Fine Day At The Office

    I work in a large industrial plant where various departments have to work together on projects to get the job done right and on time. On this particular project we needed the help or assistance of another engineering department that we normally don’t deal with. My job puts me in the position of being an assistant to my department head at times. I don’t have any authority, but get the cheap thrill of attending some pretty boring meetings and having to deal with the assistant heads of other departments who also have no authority and cannot make decisions. The assistant department head of the other engineering department was Pam Goodman. I had seen her around for several months. She was very sexy, had a great body, and being and engineer herself, was no dummy. I would also like to point out that she had always appeared very professional and never flirted that I had ever seen. Now keep in mind that this is the nineties and making a pass at a woman at work can get your ass in deep shit if you aren’t very careful. Sexual harassment and all that. If you tell the wrong woman she has a great ass, it could be you last day on that job.

    Recently I have had a number phone conversations with Pam. After the first few, she started sounding rather sexy on the phone and dropped a few sexual innuendoes, but they weren’t too blatant. The more I had talked to her the more innuendoes she had used and the more blatant they had become. It was like she had sex on the brain and I was turning her on even though I was being very careful about what I said. Maybe she had picked up that I was watching what I said, figured I would love to have flirted with her but was afraid to, and took it as a challenge. The last call was the one that got even more suggestive. During the conversation I had to admit that I had forgotten to get something done and that it had been a hard day.

    “So, who made you hard today?” she asked.

    “Made me hard today? Interesting choice of words.”

    “Did you see some woman showing a little cleavage or something?”

    So much for my wondering if that juxtaposition of words had been an accident, though I had been pretty sure it wasn’t. “No, I said I had a hard day, not that I got hard today, though that did happen too.”

    “Like I said, who made you hard today? I know you had a hard day, but who made you hard? I would think that would be a high point in your day.”

    “Oh, I’d rather not say.” As little as I knew her at this point I wasn’t going to tell her it was her cute ass walking down the hall that had given me the hardon. This conversation was getting interesting, but I was defiantly going to let her lead it.

    “You’re no fun. I thought you might have gotten flashed or something. Ever had that happen? Any of the women here ever flash you?”

    “No, I can’t say that that has ever happened. I wouldn’t mind it, but it hasn’t happened yet. Why, have you ever done any flashing here?”

    “Maybe.”

    “Not telling?”

    “No. Maybe you ought to pay more attention. It goes on around here a lot more than you might think.”
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  • My Wife The Cum Slut

    Shelly always maintained that the best part of sex was the gooey feeling that a load of fresh cum left between her legs. “Hmm, I can feel it squish round inside my cunt and then start to run down my thighs,” she would say after a good seeing to.

    I always maintained that the best part of sex was feeling her cunt just after some guy or guys had freshly filled it. That and the anticipation of waiting for her to return home, wondering exactly what she was up to, how many men there were, had they stripped her off completely, was she sucking a cock. The feeling in the pit of my stomach as I waited for her was just pure agony.

    It all started after watching a program on hookers. One of the girls was about the same age and build as Shelly and she had started her call girl career by designing her own web site. Within weeks she was doing three to four punters a week and earning about £500. “Blimey, if she can earn that with her fat figure, imagine what blokes would pay to fuck you,” I said as we cuddled up together on the sofa. “Would you really like me to fuck other men?” she asked, running her hand over the growing bulge in my jeans. The more I thought about it the more turned on I got until the bulge had turned into a tent. “You bastard,” she joked, grabbing my hard on, “it’s actually turning you on isn’t it, you really would like me to be a whore. Perhaps you’d like to think of me doing this.” She unzipped my flies and pulled my rampant cock free. It was heaven as her tongue lashed round the rim before taking the first few inches in her mouth.

    “Oh yeah, that’s it babe, suck it real good, just imagine I’m some bloke in a hotel room and your sucking his cock.” She was kneeling on the sofa beside me, her short skirt riding high on her thighs showing a tantalising glimpse of black stocking. I ran my hand up her leg, enjoying the silky smooth feel of the nylon. “Just think, some total stranger would be doing this to you as you sucked his fat cock.” I let my fingers drift over her cunt mound causing her to moan in pleasure. “Would you like that, would you like him to touch your cunt as you suck him?”
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  • Under The Table

    James pulled the big Chrysler to the front entrance of the Ritz Carlton, then turned his head and chuckled as he watched Louisa pull down the visor mirror to check her makeup for perhaps the tenth time during the short drive from the office to the hotel.

    “You look beautiful,” he said, and Louisa blushed at such an effusive comment coming from her boss, a recently-divorced man twenty-five years her senior. He looked pretty damned nice as well, she thought, in his dark blue suit and red tie. She was the first to admit that she loved a man in a suit, and he filled his out perfectly. The invitation had said ‘cocktail attire’; she hadn’t known what that meant, but hoped her green halter dress and black shawl would not be out of place.

    It was the MAEM Awards. Though she’d asked repeatedly, Louisa couldn’t remember what the acronym stood for, but she knew it had something to do with marketing. She had only worked at the magazine for a month or so when James asked if she’d like to attend the dressy shindig with the rest of the staff, and naturally, she had said yes. Not because she gave a rat’s ass about the advertising business, of course, but because it would give her an opportunity to make her move. After tonight, she might well be unemployed, riding the next bus back to Indiana. But after weeks of analyzing and fanaticizing, she was ready to risk it all.

    Inside, about six hundred people, mostly impossibly attractive, impeccably dressed and coifed advertising executives, packed the Grand Hall, milling about and making liberal use of the bar. The theme was something Spanish-related, apparently, as a salsa band blared and flamenco dancers whirled on a raised platform at the front of the room. Then, directed by some imperceptible signal, everyone broke from their chatty clusters to array themselves at tables of ten. Louisa slid into the chair beside her boss as the lights dimmed, a massive screen appeared, and what promised to be an interminable multimedia presentation of winners began.

    “Get comfortable – this is going to take a while,” he said to her as he poured her a glass of wine. Had he been keeping track, he would have realized it was her fourth.

    Beneath the table, James’s legs bumped Louisa’s, but neither of them pulled back or muttered apologies. They were knee to knee, wool suit pants touching silken leg. Impulsively, beneath the folds of the tablecloth, Louisa gently put her hand on his upper leg and squeezed.

    James glanced at her, a bit surprised, and smiled. Louisa smiled in return and moved her hand slightly, a bit higher.
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  • Wendys Audition

    Wendy was an aspiring actress. She moved to New York when she was 19 and spent two years trying to get a break into showbiz. She desperately wanted to be a stage actress, with the respect and professionalism that is admired throughout the entertainment world. But New York, just like LA is filled with aspiring actresses, all vying for the same roles.

    It wasn’t that Wendy wasn’t attractive. As a tall brunette, 36c, tomboyish frame, off-the-farm fresh good loks, Wendy definitely turned her fair share of heads as she walked down the street. On most days she wore her hair up, especially on auditions as she wanted to be as versatile as possible. It was on her current audition that she realized just how versatile she’d have to be. She had told her temp agency she couldn’t come into work and took the subway to an off-off-off (might as well been in Jersey) Broadway theater.

    The ad for the audition didn’t say too much about the production and none of her friends had ever heard of the theater, but she was desperate to get some performances under her belt so she would be taken more seriously at other auditions. As she walked up to the theater she noticed several of the other actresses – all attractive, various ages, various sizes. It was the nature of an open call, all of these women were desperate on some level to perform.

    Wendy signed in with the assistant over seeing the group and tried to get some information from him regarding the nature of the play, what roles were open, anything, but all the assistant would say is “the director will give you all the information you need.” He then handed her a form to fill out for the director to look at during the audition.

    Wendy took a seat and started going over the form. Most of the questions were what was to be expected: name, date of birth, experience, but some of them were a bit odd: Are you a virgin?, Have you ever done a nude scene?, Would you be adverse to doing a nude scene for a play?

    She hesitated and decided that it wasn’t like it was a movie, it was a play in an out of the way theater that no one would ever see. So she indicated she would be willing to do a nude performance.

    The auditions were moving quick. Most women went to the stage and returned minutes later rushing out of the theater. When they called Wendy’s name she took a deep breath and walked down the hallway and onto the stage. There were maybe 8 people sitting in the front row. One of them flipped through a stack of papers.

    “What is your name, honey?”

    “Wendy, Wendy Carlson.”

    “Ah, here you are,” he said as he plucked on piece of paper from the small pile. “Let me see, it says here you’ve only done amateur productions with one bit part at the Tyler Theater.”

    “That is correct.”

    “It also says here that you are willing to perform nude.”

    “Uh,” Wendy hesitated.

    “Well, are you or aren’t you?”
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