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From: "Rumrunner" <Rumrunner2001@yahoo.com>
NNTP-Posting-Date: Sat, 27 Jan 2001 22:39:07 CST
Subject: {ASSM} Repost: Cynthia's Progress 3/?  (MF MMMF, FFM)
Date: Sun, 28 Jan 2001 19:10:02 -0500
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This story is an original work of fiction. It in no way resembles any
persons living or deceased. It is purely a work of fantasy and is intended
for the use of adults only. If you are under the age of 18, or are
prohibited by law to have access to such materials, please stop reading now.

Feel free to distribute this work freely, provided it remains unchanged,
with credit given to the author. Please download and enjoy it!

 I would love to hear what you all think. Any feedback, suggestions or
criticisms are all welcome and greatly encouraged. Please! Tell me what you
think.

 Rumrunner
 rumrunner2001@yahoo.com

Cynthia's Progress,
Chapter 3


Wednesday morning, at 9:15, the phone rang on my desk.

 "Hi, this is Mike," I answered casually. It was my direct line, not a
transfer from the desk, so I knew it was either one of my existing clients
or a personal call.

 "Hi, Mike, it's Marty," the cheerful voice on the other end of the line
told me, although I'd recognized the voice right away. "How are you?"

 "Good, and yourself?"

 "I've been feeling great, to tell you the truth. Saturday night really
invigorated me!"

 "Glad to hear it," I laughed, "It's had me feeling pretty spry myself."

 A chuckle from the other end of the line, then, "Hey, I know your busy and
I don't want to interrupt you working, I just wanted to let you know Sheila
and I are going to be downtown this afternoon and we wondered if you would
be interested in some lunch."

 "Sounds great," I told him, "Will one o'clock work for you?"

 "Fine, fine. Do you know Macintosh's? Top floor of the Northtown Towers?"

 "Yeah, that's real close to my building," I'd never been to the 5-star
restaurant before, but I knew it by its reputation - both for the quality of
the food and the exclusive clientele often mentioned by the society pages as
regulars. "I'll see you there."

* * *

 At five 'til one I stepped off the elevator at the 33rd floor of the
Northtown Towers hotel, the top floor and location of Macintosh's
restaurant. Soft, pleasant music played in the background, audible above the
general din of lunchtime conversations throughout the full dining room. The
tables and booths were all hardwood, with plush, navy blue seats and brass
accents, occupied by well-dressed people enjoying casual lunches that
probably cost the equivalent of my weekly grocery bill.

I approached the hostess's station and its smiling sentinel, a lovely young
redhead in a long blue skirt and a very well filled out white blouse. I told
her I was meeting Marty and Sheila Masterson.  With a warm smile she told me
they were waiting for me in the bar; she would show me the way. As she led
me through the restaurant, I kept a couple of paces back to enjoy the view
of her slightly plump rear-end swaying through the restaurant, trying not to
be too obvious about it.

"Ah, there you are. Early even!" Marty said, standing to shake my hand as we
approached their table. "Good to see you, Mike. Thank you Debbie, you're an
angel." The last accompanied by a wink at the smiling hostess.

"What a flirt," Sheila teased him as Debbie walked away. "I swear, he never
lets up. How are you Mike?" She stood to give me an affectionate hug and a
rather chaste peck on the cheek.

"It's good to see you, both of you.  Sheila you look terrific." My momma
always told me, flattery would get you everywhere. It helps when it's true,
too, and Sheila was looking good. Her hair was up, and she was wearing a
cream-colored silk blouse, unbuttoned enough to reveal a tempting but
tasteful amount of cleavage. A black skirt clung deliciously to her hips.
The hemline was below the knee but it had a generous slit up one side. A
pair of high heels, four inches I guessed, completed the ensemble.

"Thanks," she said putting her hands behind her head in a playful pose.
"Marty took me shopping this morning." She motioned for us all to sit. "He's
been very patient with me for all the stores I've dragged him through, I
think maybe he deserves a nice reward when we get home."

"I might even deserve sainthood," he joked, and then signaled to the waiter.
"What'll you have, Mike."

"Vodka Martini sounds good."

He passed it along to the waiter and ordered another round for Sheila and
himself.

That waiter had no sooner left, before another arrived to tell us that our
table was ready.  After Marty gave instructions for our drinks to be
delivered to our table, the waiter led us to a cozy booth in the far corner
of the dining area

"Not quite the view some of the other tables have," Marty told me, "but a
quite a bit more private.  You can have a conversation without the whole
place overhearing."

The drinks arrived in moment and we all took a couple of minutes to look
over the menu before Marty flagged down our waiter so we could place our
orders.  We made small talk while we waited for the food to arrive, about
the city, the weather. They asked about Cynthia and I told them she was
doing well, and started talking a bit about her job, her hobbies, etc.  As
we talked about my wife, it was obvious that we were all thinking of the
events of a few nights ago, although no one spoke of it overtly.  It was an
unusual feeling, talking so casually with these people that I really didn't
know that well, but had shared a wild lustful night with. But it wasn't at
all awkward or uncomfortable.  Their comfort and ease with everything that
was very new to me was infectious.

 Our meals arrived shortly and Marty told the waiter we would let him know
if we needed anything.

"That's one of the things I like about this place," he said after the waiter
left. "The staff doesn't fawn over you after you've been served. They aren't
asking you if everything is all right every five minutes.  You can have an
uninterrupted meal and a nice conversation, but if you do want anything, a
quick wave and they're there right away."

"And speaking of being left alone to conversation," Sheila added, "we didn't
ask you here just for fun, we do have something we wanted to talk with you
about."

"Go right ahead," I offered, seeing them exchange a slightly nervous,
slightly excited glance between them.

"Well," Marty began, "we don't want you to take what we're going to say the
wrong way, and we hope we haven't read you wrong, so hear us all the way out
before making any judgment, OK?"

"Fair enough," I replied. I was starting to get a little curious.

"To be right up front," Sheila said, "your wife's a slut. Now, don't have
quite so shocked a look on your face.  Actually, I misspoke.  Your wife was
the potential to be a slut.  I don't mean this in a bad way. I, we, believe
that your wife, deep down in her heart of hearts, can be a true cock-hungry,
pussy-eating, cum-slurping, nymphomaniacal, exhibitionist slut. And that's a
good thing."

"Mike," Marty interrupted calmly, "you need to either take a bite of that,
or set the fork down, you look a little silly just holding it there."

 I realized that Sheila literally had stopped me in my tracks, a forkful of
poached salmon hovering in my hand right in front of me.

 "I really don't quite know what to say," I started nervously, placing my
fork back on the table.

 "Just listen, ok," Marty calmly told me. "We don't mean 'slut' in a
negative way. We really believe that some women have it in them to be
unashamedly sexual, completely inhibition free.  We've made it sort of a
hobby over the years to find women like this, usually women who are already
married by the way, and introduce them to what they can be. We teach them a
whole world of carnal experiences they didn't even know how to dream of, but
crave nonetheless. Not every woman has this potential. We are always careful
about selecting anyone to do this with and we have never been wrong. And
I've never seen a husband regret it."

 "I'm sure you have a great sex life now," Sheila said, picking up the
thread of conversation, "but you obviously are looking for something more.
You told us as much yourself. You are the one that instigated our meeting,
although I'd wager Cynthia didn't take much convincing.  Oh, I'm sure she
put up quite a show of reluctance, but we all saw how readily she dove right
in on Saturday. You have to admit, you enjoyed watching her as much as you
enjoyed participating yourself. Well, almost as much."

 Marty continued, "If you think Saturday was fun, it was just the tip of the
iceberg. It's not an instant thing, transforming your pretty young wife into
a wanton slut, but the process of slowly introducing her to one thing after
another is as exciting as the final result.  At least we've always thought
so, that's why we've had the pleasure of doing this with so many other
couples."

 "We mean what we said about it not being a negative thing, too," Sheila
added. "We've interacted in a lot of scenes, in a lot of places with a lot
of different people.  We've seen women who will do anything and everything
sexually, but they've been brought there through humiliation and dominance.
Those women are all more than a little fucked up in the head. When a woman
gets rid of all her hang-ups and inhibitions, and more importantly, has a
natural hunger for sex, and does everything (and everyone) because she just
plain enjoys it, then you have someone that will not only make your every
fantasy come true, but she'll be well adjusted, too. She can be discrete
around the neighbors and the family, while still rivaling the whore of
Babylon in a more relaxed environment."

 "Wow," I said, haltingly, "this is...kind of a lot all at once. I mean, I
wanted more out of my sex life with Cynthia, but this just sounds..."

 "We want you to think about it," Marty interrupted, "we aren't telling you
to decide if you want to continue with us right this minute.  We want you to
think about what you really want out of your sex life. I think you got a
taste of it a few days ago. And don't think we're really changing Cynthia.
If she doesn't have it in her to be this kind of woman, it won't happen. But
I really believe she can be, especially after Saturday."

 "Maybe," I stuttered, "I don't know. She was drunk...I don't know..."

 "I know she was drunk," Sheila said, "I got her that way. I don't feel a
bit guilty about it either.  Obviously, we can't tell her what we are trying
to do, but we'll never force her. Instead we ease her into new situations,
always making her comfortable. Alcohol of course eases inhibitions, but
unless your completely shit-faced it won't make you do something you really
don't have it in you to do.  Think about it, you're strictly straight,
right?" I nodded my agreement. "Now if you'd had 3 or 4 drinks more than
your usual limit, would you let some sweet talking guy take you in the ass
and cum in your mouth? No way, right? Even though your drunk, it's not an
inhibition that holds you back, it is just not in your nature."

 "This is really a lot more than I'd ever really thought about before," I
admitted. I really wasn't sure what to think. The ideas they planted in my
mind were appealing on one level, but at the same time I had inhibitions of
my own. I wasn't sure if this was really "right", or maybe I was just
thinking it was impossible, that Cynthia really wasn't what they thought she
was. "I'm not sure if this is what I really want.  Maybe...I'm just not
sure.  And even if it is, I'm not sure Cynthia really is the slut you think
she is deep down inside."

Marty thought for a moment, then answered, "As far as yourself, that's
something you are going to have to figure out, I don't think you'll be
disappointed.  As for Cynthia, well, like we said, we've done this many
times before, and we've never guessed wrong. In fact, we are more sure with
Cynthia than we've been with all but 2 or 3 of the other women we've
'brought along'.  I don't believe she would ever be unfaithful to you, but
with a couple of drinks in her and your tacit approval, she didn't hesitate
to fuck my brains out. And I pushed the envelope, too. When I finished in
her mouth, that could have been too much, but she went right to it. Tell me
does she usually swallow?"

"Well," I admitted, "she always has when she gives me a blowjob. But to tell
the truth, she rarely gives me 'just' a blowjob, it's usually a warm up,
foreplay."

"She's a natural cum-drinker," Sheila stated plainly, stating the crude
title as pleasantly if she said she was a natural florist. "And that is a
great step. There are no romantic illusions when you finish sex by taking
your cock out of a woman and filling up her mouth. Your wife willingly did
it four times last Saturday, admittedly she was a little hesitant, but I
know that will change quickly. It's a great symbolic act and when she is
eagerly asking to slurp down your cum, evem upset when you 'waste-it' in her
vagina, you'll know she's admitting to herself that she's acting in pure
animal sexuality, pure unapologetic lust. It's really beautiful."

I honestly had been surprised that night when Marty came in her mouth. Not
nearly as much as later, when Sheila had guided my cock from her wet,
wonderful twat right to my wife's mouth. Cynthia hadn't even tried to stop
it! After a short cocktail break we had all gone at it again, ending the
same way.  Although it had replayed itself hundred of times in my mind,
Cynthia had never mentioned that aspect of the evening since then. We had
talked about our experience several times; she enjoyed herself, and the very
next day had told me she wanted to see Marty and Sheila again. I had to
admit to myself that I had been thrilled watching my wife repeatedly perform
such wanton act. We had both been horny as hell since that night, screwing
every day since then, twice on Sunday and once already to day before we had
left for work, but I had never dared to repeat the "money shot" as they call
it the porn movies. Now my mind was spinning, seeing it as a sort of
training by our new friends, wondering what Cynthia's reaction might be.

"Of course," Sheila continued, "you will have to help a great deal.  Your
support, your acceptance and encouragement make everything possible. You may
feel a little guilty at first in deceiving her, not telling her our
intentions and our plans. But eventually, I can guarantee that you will feel
foolish for ever having any guilt about anything, when you find that both of
you are much happier."

"We've thrown a hell of a lot at you at once," admitted Marty, "and I think
you get an idea what we can offer you. I want you to just think about it for
a couple of days. What do you say we enjoy our lunches here in this fine
restaurant, we won't talk about it any more for now, OK?"

We ate in self-conscious silence. Occasionally, they or I would make a
pleasant comment, usually about the excellent qualities of our meals, but
for the most part they left me to my thoughts. Marty paid the check at the
end of the meal and by then we had all relaxed a bit from the awkwardness
during the meal and I was impressed again by their way of making me feel at
ease despite the unexpected proposal they had just made. Sheila hugged and
kissed me again as we got off the elevator in the lobby, and I returned
Marty's handshake with the good-natured friendship in which it was offered.

"Think about things a couple of days," he told me. "If you think you can
slip out of work a bit early on Friday, we'd love to have you up to the
house before you go home. You're sure to have some questions for us, and
you'll have let the idea sink in a bit. We can have a couple of drinks and a
good long talk."

I agreed to be there, and headed back to work with a lot on my mind. At this
point however, work was the farthest thing from my mind. After half an hour
I decided I was wasting my time even trying to be productive, so I took some
flex time and headed home.

* * *

Cynthia's work schedule varies a lot, so I wasn't too surprised to see her
car in the drive when I pulled up.  She works for an interior decorating
company that faces houses for real estate agents. Basically, they have a
warehouse full of furniture they use to decorate brand new houses so they
are easier for agents to sell, then once the house is sold they move all the
furnishings back out. Depending on if a house has sold or new listings
added, Cynthia can work anywhere from 2 to 10 hours a day.

The house was oddly quiet for having someone at home; no television or radio
was playing, no conversation from the phone, no appliances running.  I
thought perhaps she had just arrived; maybe she was just now changing or
freshening up.  I went up stairs and saw our bedroom slightly ajar. As I
approached it, I could hear sounds coming from the room. Easing the door
open a little more, I peeked inside. Cynthia was masturbating.

Her skirt and panties lay discarded on the floor beside the bed, right next
to her shoes. She was lying back on the bed with her white blouse unbuttoned
and wide open, along with her bra, apparently the front clasping type. Her
long blondes hair fanned out on the pillow and her pert little breasts were
nicely displayed with their erect points aiming at the ceiling. The hum of
her small, blue vibrator mixed with her panting breath. She was holding it
tightly against her clit with one hand, while her other hand worked
vigorously in a circular motion slight lower.

It was a very beautiful, very exciting, and a very unexpected spectacle. I
had never known of her to masturbate, although I wasn't really surprised. It
just wasn't something we had ever talked about.  I had bought the vibrator
shortly after we were married and we used it together occasionally in our
more playful sexual episodes. I had often wondered if she ever used it when
I was not around, now I guess I knew.

I stood unseen at the doorway for a couple of minutes, watching my petite
young wife writhing in the pleasures of her own hands. I decided to take a
bold step. I pushed open the door and stepped into the word. She froze with
a start.

"Mike! I uh...what are you doing home? I was just... I mean..."

"Please," I said softly, "don't stop.  It's ok. Keep going, enjoy yourself.
I... I'd like to watch, if it's ok."

For a moment there was just an awkward silence, except for the continuing
buzz of the vibrator. Finally, after what seemed like ages but was probably
only a couple of seconds, a barely perceptible smile crossed her lips and
she closed her eyes. The vibrator returned to her clit and her hand started
once again to slowly caress her pussy lips, a finger periodically dipping
inside. She was a little self-conscious at first, but as she quickly
returned to her previous level of pleasure it was as if once again I wasn't
there. She was working her pussy faster now, alternating between rubbing the
outside of her lips and sliding 2 or 3 fingers in side of her. Her hips rose
and lowered lewdly in a regular rhythm against her hands.

My cock was straining almost painfully against my pants as I watched my wife
in pure ecstasy. I quickly slipped my belt off then unzipped my fly, freeing
the caged beast and letting my trousers drop to my feet. I was as rock hard
as I had ever been in my life as I slowly ran my hand up and down my shaft.
Cynthia was now surely oblivious to me; she was feverishly pumping three of
her slender fingers into her twat and her knuckles had gone white grasping
the vibe against her clit. Moans were starting to come louder, mingled in
her panting breath.  She was going to cum any moment now.

"Fuck!" she groaned loudly, "Oh fuck. Oh God...that's it...oh fuck oh shit
Yes! Yesyesyesyes oh YES!" her hips bucked wildly as she came, bedsprings
creaking. Her orgasm was obviously intense, lasting several seconds until
her body came to rest, quivering slightly. She opened her eyes lazily and
looked at me with a weak grin on her face, still trying to catch her breath.

 I stepped out of my pants and approached the foot of the bed.  Taking her
ankles in my hands I pulled her toward me until her hips were at the edge of
the bed. Our bed is rather high so I only had to squat slightly to put the
head of my cock against her wet entrance.

 "Wait," she protested weakly, "give me...just a minute."

 Ignoring her half-hearted protest I pushed into her soaking cunt.

 "Oooh," she grunted as I slid about halfway into her, my thick tool
stretching her wider than her three slim fingers had. In just a couple of
strokes I was filling her with all of my eight inches. I guided her hand
with the still vibrating toy back to her sensitive clit as I worked my
substantial dick leisurely in and out of her tight hole.

 Engulfing her small tits in my hands I asked her, "Sure you want me to
stop?"

 "No, no. Fuck no," she moaned quietly.

 I fucked her harder, with long full strokes. She wrapped her legs around my
waist, fucking me back as I squeezed her firm little boobs, pinching her
nipples. Soon she was nearly back to her previous stateof bliss. I banged
her hard for the next few minutes, feeling myself getting close to my own
orgasm. I decide to break up the pace to help me last longer. I buried
myself to the hilt, then slipped my hands from her breasts around her back
and lifted her close to me. She wrapped her arms around my neck and I stood
up with her in my arms. Her mere 100 pounds didn't stagger me a bit as I
held her completely impaled on my shaft.

 Her feet, crossed behind my back, lowered a bit to brace themselves against
the backs of my thighs. She straightened her legs lifting herself nearly off
my cock then relaxed them dropping to slap my balls against her nicely
rounded ass. It took only a moment for both of us to gain our balance and
then she was steadily fucking my cock, rising and slamming back down more
rapidly.  I could feel her stiff nipples dragging up and down across my
chest and she was panting in my ear.

 "Oh yeah, it's so good...that feels so good...oh I'm...gonna cum..." She
was riding me harder, faster, sweat pouring off her body from the exertion.
"almost...there...Fuck!...oh fuck me Mike! Pound me! Please Mike, give it to
me!"

  I turned around and pushed her back roughly against the wall, pinning her
there tightly with my chest.  Her legs clamped around my waste and I
repeatedly slammed my cock into her as hard as I could.  She came in no
time, her cunt muscles gripping my cock as she screamed her delight in my
ear. Even as she came down from her sex-induced high I continued hammering
her pussy against the wall.

 "I'm gonna cum," I told her breathlessly, "God you make me feel so good,
I'm gonna cum so hard."

 "Cum for me baby," she told me, "cum on give it to me good!"

 Caught up in the moment, feeling a little daring, "I want to cum in your
mouth, Cynthia. Can I come in your mouth baby?"

 No hesitation. "Sure darling, cum in my mouth. You can cum in my mouth."

 I pulled out of her and she put her legs to the ground as I eased my weight
off of her. She dropped instantly to her knees and took my cock into her
mouth, cupping my balls in her hand. I lunged forward immediately, squirting
a huge load of thick semen against the back of her throat. Almost
involuntarily my hips convulsed, thrusting forward at each spurt.  She
coughed around my cock as she gagged slightly, struggling to swallow it all.

Finally I was done and I collapsed back on the bed. I looked over at
Cynthia, now sitting back against the wall, her naked legs splayed wide open
showing her freshly-fucked pussy glistening with her plentiful fluids. Her
blouse still hung loosely on her, half-covering one breast and her hair was
a mess. She was looking back at me lovingly, her make-up streaked with sweat
and I couldn't help but notice that there wasn't a trace of my cum around
her mouth; she'd swallowed every last drop.

* * *

On Friday I worked until noon and then took a half-day for the second time
this week.  I was going to have a lot of flex hours to make up, but at the
time it was really the last thing on my mind. Few waking moments had gone by
without Marty and Sheila's proposal crossing my mind.

It had sounded so outlandish at first, but the more I thought about it, the
more I started to believe that it was possible to bring about; I was
starting to seriously consider it, although not without some misgivings.
Aside from the wild, heretofore-untried sex acts that I imagined, there was
also the knowledge that my beautiful Cynthia would be with other men,
probably several other men. I couldn't decide if I thought I would have a
problem with that. On one hand, men are possessive by nature, and she is my
wife. On the other hand, I'm sure there would undoubtedly a variety of women
coming my way as well - what's good for the goose is good for the gander as
they say. Besides, I'd watched Cynthia with Marty and hadn't been the least
bit jealous, quite the opposite actually.

These thoughts and many others had swirled through my mind for three days,
every doubt counterbalanced by an image in my mind of Cynthia greedily
dropping to her knees to suck me dry, or her spread wide open on the couch
with nothing on but her stockings and heels as Marty pistoned in out of her,
or any number of other tawdry, exciting images I had both seen and imagined
in the last week. By the time I pulled into the drive of the Masterson's
house I had nearly made up my mind.  All I needed was just a little push.

* * *

"I'm so glad you could make it Mike, come on in," Marty pumped my hand
enthusiastically as we ushered me into the house.  "No trouble getting out
of work? Good, good.  Come on this way, Sheila's out getting some sun by the
pool, I thought you and I could have a little man-to-man chat."

"Sure Marty," I agreed as he led me up the stairs, "that might be a good
idea."

We walked into a large, well lit room, furnished in a modern, gun-metal
gray, with several comfortable looking chairs and a large, deeply cushioned
sofa positioned a suitable distance from the 52" big screen television on
the wall. One of the side walls was lined with floor to ceiling cabinets and
on the wall opposite was a large work area filled with all manner of
electronic equipment, a couple of monitors, several tape decks and sundry
other devices I was not at all familiar with.

"This is the A/V room," he explained. "Sort of a hobby. Have a seat." He
motioned to a pair comfortable looking armchairs.

I sat as he opened a small cabinet under the electronic equipment that
turned out to be a mini-fridge.  "Bourbon OK?" he asked, dropping ice into a
pair of glasses and starting to pour us each a generous helping of Jack
Daniels.

"You've probably had quite a bit on your mind since we last spoke," he said,
aware that he was stating the obvious, as he handed me my glass and sat
down. "I hope I can help clear things up for you. To start with, I'll bet
you have a few questions."

"Yeah, I suppose so," I told him, not sure where to start. "I guess the
first thing that I'm wondering is, is this for real? I mean, I don't
distrust you, it all just seems so out there.  You said you've been doing
this for years, how many women have you 'converted', if that's even the
right word."

"I tend to think 'liberated' describes it a bit more accurately," he
answered with a confident smile. "I can understand your doubts, it took me a
while to get used to thinking of my wife that way, too.  I'll bet that was
even another one of your questions.  Yes, Sheila definitely fits the bill as
a true slut. 'The Original Slut', I like to call her. We had to sort of
stumble our way into discovering and accepting this, as well as how it fits
into our lives. In the long run, it has made both of us so happy that we
just love sharing it with other people who we think have the same
potential."

"As for the how many women there have been," he added standing and walking
over to the cabinets, "it is easier to believe if I show you, rather than
just throw out a number."

He took a key from his pocket and unlocked the cabinet on the left end of
the room. He took out a large photo album and brought it over to me. "Take a
look through this while we chat, it'll help give you some idea of the
reality of the whole thing."

I opened the album up to the first page and was treated to a full 8x10 photo
of Sheila sitting seductively on a barstool. She was apparently completely
nude, although her crossed legs hid any indecencies below the waist while
one arm was crossed coyly across her chest to give the photo a PG appearance
(well, maybe PG-13). I turned the page and all pretenses of innocence
quickly dropped. The two pages open in front of me had six prints each.
Sheila lying nude on the bed. Sheila licking the shaft of a large, black
dildo. Sheila sliding the same dildo between her spread vaginal lips. Sheila
on all fours, the same dildo now shining with lubricant worked halfway into
her tight anus by man I'd never seen before. The next picture was taken in a
different room, she was wearing only a red garter, stockings, and matching
heels, and straddling a man who was buried to his balls in her cunt while
she had another man's cock in her mouth. Each photo was more explicit than
the last. The twelfth one showed a close-up of Sheila's face, make-up
impeccably done, as she sipped a thick white liquid through a straw from a
nearly full rocks glass.

I turned the page to see another solitary 8x10, this time an attractive,
pale skinned woman with, long jet black hair reclined on a sofa in a black
bra and panty set, complete with garters, stockings and heels. The next set
of pages revealed her in various forms of luscious debauchery with a variety
of partners and toys.

I started flipping randomly through the thick album to find pages of
attractive, smiling women ranging from mid twenties to late thirties in age,
all in an endless parade of carnal extravagance.

"We do enjoy documenting our adventures, as you can see," Marty told me as I
scanned the pages. "In fact, assuming you want to continue meeting with us,
a photo session, albeit a rather tame one, would be soon on the agenda. It
starts to bring out the exhibitionist streak and get rid of that foolish
body-shame so many women have."

"I see a lot of different men here," I said, my eyes only momentarily
looking up to Marty's, "I assume they are all husbands, boyfriends,
whatever, of the various girls.  I guess what I'm asking about, is, well I
don't see any condoms..."

"Oh, safe sex. Not to worry, we're very strict and very selective," he
reassured me. "You told us Cynthia's on the pill, so there's no pregnancy
worry, especially if anyone rarely cums in per vagina. As far as disease, we
don't worry about condoms as long as we are with people we know, if there is
someone involved who is not a 'friend' we would insist on the rubbers. At
least until he's finished that is."

"Would she be meeting a lot of strangers, I mean am I going to be wondering
where she is every night?"

"Not at all! It's not like she is going to turn into an uncontrollable
nymphomaniac. The biggest part of the emotional issue for her is your
approval.  You won't control her, not any more than you do now." He winked
as he said this, causing us both to laugh. "She won't want to do anything
thing you won't like, that would seem like cheating as much to her as to
you.  If she wants to screw around with some guy, or guys, she'll tell you.
And I have a feeling that in most cases you'll approve. She can always tell
you all the details later, assuming you don't join in."

I set the photo album on the table and took a long sip of the bourbon.

"I can tell you are on the brink of a decision," Marty said, standing up. "I
think I need to give you just a little more food for thought." There was an
intercom system mounted on the wall next to the door. He walked over and
pressed one of the many buttons near the speaker. "Sheila honey, are you
still there at the pool?"

"Of course, dear," Sheila's voice came clearly through the speaker. "Just
getting some sunshine."

"Why don't you come on up and say hello to Mike."

"Be there in jiffy," she replied cheerfully.

Marty smiled at me and started to refill his glass. In about a minute's time
the door opened and Sheila stepped in. She was totally naked.

"Mike, it's so good to see you again," she said with genuine enthusiasm. Her
breasts swayed delightfully with each step as she walked into the room.

She turned to the open doorway behind her and said, "Well hurry up!"

A smiling, equally nude woman bounced through the doorway.  Bounced is
definitely the right word to describe it, too.  She was about 5'5" with
curly red hair tied in a bun on her head, bright green eyes and an inviting,
guiless smile. A pair of huge, freckled tits jiggled on her chest, sagging
in bountiful fullness, capped with pale pink nipples, much bigger than a
silver dollar. Her hips flared amply below a not-quite-flat tummy and led to
a nice pair of legs, between which a thick nest of bright red pubic hair
promised treasures just beneath. Too thin to be Rubenesque, to pleasantly
curvy to be called slim.  Sort of a red-haired Anna Nicole Smith.

"You remember Debbie," Sheila said to me as the enticing girl headed my way.
I stared at her in confusion before recognition dawned on me.

"From the restaurant!" I exclaimed as she reached me and wrapped her arms
around my neck.

"It's a pleasure to see you again," she giggled before pulling me forward to
kiss me on the mouth. Her tongue snuck teasingly past my lips and I could
feel her big tits crushed tight against my chest.

Breaking our kiss far too soon, she skipped over to Marty. "Hello sir," she
said to him, mockingly imitating her professional voice from the restaurant,
"can I tell you about our specials?"

She let out a high-pitched squeal and a giggle as he slapped her playfully,
but quite firmly, on her round ass. "You quit sassing me and give a kiss,"
he told her with feigned sternness. She gleefully did just that, for about
twice as long as with me. Finally their mouths separated.

"Always a pleasure," Marty said affectionately, "my darling delicious Debbie
of the double D d colletage."

"Their bigger than that," she said lifting her heavy tits in her hands,
pretending to be offended. "Triple D or an F depending on where I buy my
bras!"

"But of course that would ruin the alliteration," Marty teased. "But we're
not here to talk about your tantalizing tits, tempting though they are."
Both Sheila and Debbie rolled their eyes at him. "We were about to watch a
movie, I'm hoping you can join us.  Have a seat, Mike."

I sat down on the couch and Debbie and snuggled in next to me, putting one
arm around my neck and stretching a leg across my lap. Marty returned the
photo album to the cabinet it had come from and returned with a videotape.
The label on the spine read "Intros" in bold black print. Marty popped it
into the machine and sat down on one of the larger easy chairs. His wife
naked wife curled lovingly in his lap.

In a moment the film started and I saw that it was shot in the living room
of this house. An attractive, slim brunette was smiling at the camera.  A
lacy white camisole hid little of her body. She had long slightly thin legs
and narrow hips. Her breasts maybe a B-cup, but bulged out nicely on her
thin frame.

"Hi, my name is Alison," she said taking a few steps toward the camera. I
glanced down as I felt Debbie's hand unzipping my fly. "Boy, it sure is warm
in here! Perhaps I'm just overdressed." The lines came out purposefully
cheesy.  The woman on the screen slowly pulled her lingerie over her head,
revealing a shapely, firm pair of tits.  She started massaging them in her
hands, tugging her nipples until they were hard as stones.

"Wow! You've got a really big dick!" Debbie exclaimed in delight, pulling my
quickly hardening rod out of my pants.

"Thanks," I said, out of a lack of any better response.

"No," she said looking lustfully into my eyes, "Thank you!"

On the TV, Alison had shed her panties and was now sitting on the couch. One
hand started to massage her closely trimmed pussy and the other fished a
conveniently place bright pink dildo from between the cushions. She slid the
end in her mouth and started moving it slowly in and out and as the camera
drew closer and closer to her face. Just as nothing but her mouth and the
plastic toy gliding between her ruby lips filled the huge screen, the scene
changed. Suddenly that same slender frame was on all fours with a slightly
overweight man fucking her hard from behind. A pair of attractive legs was
coiled around her back and she was passionately licking the cunt of yet
another unknown woman.

Debbie was stroking my cock as my eyes were locked on the screen. I reached
up and took one of her massive jugs in my hand, lifting it slightly. I was
surprised at what it weighed. I figured this girl must have wonderfully
developed back muscles. Tearing my eyes away from the homemade porn on the
screen, I turned to catch a glance at the wonderful sight right next to me.
But out of the corner of my eye something sparkly caught my eye. For the
first time I noticed Debbie's wedding ring. It had a nice sized diamond on a
gold setting and was riding her lovely finger as her hand pumped my thick
cock. For the first time I realized that this was another man's wife sitting
her next to me, completely stripped, happily jacking me off. And wherever he
was, he knew and didn't care. Hell, she would probably tell him all about it
later, and he'd be happy for her. I suddenly pictured Cynthia with her tiny
naked body lying next to a strange man, happily jerking him off with her
wedding ring, our wedding ring, proudly displayed. I wasn't disgusted, in
fact, I wasn't disturbed at all.

 The lack of moaning from the TV broke my chain of thought and I looked back
to the screen.  It showed the living room again, and different woman. She
looked a little older, maybe late thirties. This one was taller, also
slender and fairly flat chested. She was wearing white thong panties and her
nipples pointed dangerously from under a thin cotton tank top.

 "Hi, my name is Lisa," she began.

 "You know, I've seen this show before," Debbie whispered in my ear, "I
think I'll take a trip to the snack bar."

 She slid off the couch and positioned herself on her knees in front of me
and started sucking my cock. By the time Lisa's scenes had ended and a
short, busty brunette named Holly introduced herself I was being
deep-throated for the first time in my life. I managed to hold out for four
more of Marty and Sheila's lovely pupils before I exploded, shooting my
first squirt straight down her throat without sensing the slightest hint of
a gag reflex. She pulled back and continued milking my cock with her hand as
she sucked hard on the head of my cock, drawing out the rest of my warm
semen.

 "Mmmm, that was nice," she said, "but I was kind of hoping to get fucked by
this big cock. Hope I won't have to wait very long."

 Before I could answer, Sheila chimed in, "You just keep doing what you're
doing there Debbie, he'll be back up in no time. Enjoying the show so far
Mike? I mean the one on the screen."

 "Unbelievable," I told her honestly, "I've never seen anything like it."

 "Oh, this type gets repetitive after a while, you just get a little tease
from each girl. Put a different tape in Marty," she told him rising from his
lap to let him do it.

 "Put one of mine in!" Debbie pleaded, "When he sees the reward he has in
store he'll get hard even faster!"

 Marty went to a different cabinet and selected a tape.  I caught a glimpse
of the label: Debbie #7.

 Debbie went back to sucking on my semi-hard member, my balls safely
bobbling in her warm fingers. She slid a hand between her own legs and set
her fingers to work between her fiery bush.

 The video started showing three men sitting at the bar in Marty's den.
Debbie entered right away, dressed in a novelty French Maids outfit. The top
had a very low cut neckline and was probably at least a size to small for
her.  Her huge breasts bulged out to the point that they looked like they
would pop free any minute. There wasn't even enough material to cover the
tops of her large, round nipples, the areolas enticingly on display. The
tight skirt barely covered her well-rounded ass and was a good 2 inches
above the tops of her black fishnet stockings, revealing the lacy straps
leading the short way to her garter belt. She expertly approached the men
without the slightest wobble on what had to be 6-inch heels.

 "Hi fellas!" the onscreen Debbie announced. "You miss me?"

 "Damn right!" responded one of the men whom I was pretty sure was the
heavy-set man who had been fucking Alison in the first video I'd seen.

 "I missed you, too, Geoff," she told him walking up to give him a kiss. As
they locked their mouths together, his hands roamed freely all over her
body, squeezing her ass under her skirt then cupping her breasts, which
caused them to bulge even further out of her top.

 "Hey, how about us?" asked the tall, blonde haired man.

 She ended her embrace and moved to the next man. "You too, David," she told
the blonde, kissing him quickly.  "And you Kevin," she said, finally walking
over to the last man, a short stock guy with a darker complexion, possibly
some Italian blood there.

 "Do you like the outfit?" she asked, taking a step back and turning a full
circle.  By now her nipples were completely exposed as her tits threatened
to break free of their confinement.

 "Sexy, I've always had a French Maid fantasy," Geoff told her.

 "Unfortunately, it's kind of tight, she said. "Any one be upset if I take
it off?"

 Apparently costuming isn't real important in these productions. The guys
quickly decided they would survive, and Debbie quickly shed her blouse and
skirt, leaving her in only her stockings, heels and garter. The guys
followed suit, quickly stripping off their clothes as the camera followed
them to the sofa.

 "I just love getting reacquainted with old friends," she purred as she sat
on the sofa, taking Kevin's hard cock into her mouth.

 Geoff gently, turned her sideways, getting her on all fours on the couch as
David moved in behind her, his hand running between her legs, his fingers
delving into her warm cunt. In that position her pendulous tits seemed to
stretch straight away from her chest, swinging back and forth at the
slightest provocation. Deciding that she was already plenty worked up, David
guided his cock into her moist hole. He started fucking her, making her tits
start to swing faster and faster back and forth.  Geoff handed him a bottle
of oil and he squirted some onto his fingers before tossing the bottle
aside. As his cock drilled into her wet cunt, he pushed a finger easily up
her other hole, working it around a bit before adding a second finger.

 I could feel my own cock start to come back to life, and I started running
my fingers through Debbie's hair as she continued to suck the life back into
me.

 David was screwing her faster now, his fingers reaming her bunghole in an
alternating rhythm to his cock ramming her pussy. Every time he thrust
forward Kevin would do the same, his cock sliding easily down her throat.
They kept this up for a couple of minutes, gradually building up speed,
until she was groaning around the cock in her mouth and her big udders were
flailing wildly back and forth.

 Finally, Geoff piped in from off camera, "Hey, I'm starting to get lonely
over here!"

 The camera panned slightly to the right. Geoff was sitting on the other
half of the sectional oiling his rock hard cock up.

 On the screen, Debbie broke away from her first two partners and moved to
the next. She stood up on the couch with her back to Geoff, one foot on
either side of his legs, then slowly squatted down until her puckered anus
was resting against the swollen head of his cock. He put his hands on her
hips and helped her lower herself onto him a little at a time. Sinking down
a bit then pulling back up, only to sink back down a little deeper.  Kevin
and David took positions on either side and started kneading and sucking on
her plentiful tits. Finally, she was impaled to the hilt on his cock.

 About this time, the "real" Debbie had me back up to working order. I
reclined back on the couch with my back propped up on a pair of large
pillows at the arm.  She crawled on top of me and my cock slid slowly into
her slick, warm cunt.

 "Ooooh," she cooed, "that is a nice big cock for me." Wriggling her hips in
easy circles she finally worked her way all the way to the bottom. Her
tempting mounds dangled in front of me and I helped myself, hefting them in
my hands. Her abundance of tit-flesh overflowed my hands as I squeezed,
lifted, tugged and toyed with them. "That feels good," she encouraged, "play
with my big titties. Yeah I like that, pinch my nipples."

 As her hips began fucking my cock faster her heavy jugs swayed even as I
attempted to contain them. Her ecstatic sounds of pleasure inches from my
face mixed with the ones from the television. I glanced over at the screen
and saw the busty red head filled with cocks at every entrance.  Her asshole
was still skewered on Geoff's lucky cock, but now she had leaned back and
David had moved to the front, making a tasty looking Debbie-sandwich. He
fucked her pussy hard enough to lift her ass up three to four inches off
Geoff's cock at each ramming stroke, only to have it slide right back down
as he pulled back for another rapid thrust. Kevin was standing next to her
on the couch holding her head to his crotch. She was fervently sucking him
off even as he had to struggle to hold her flailing head.

 The live, in-person Debbie was meanwhile giving me a gold-metal fuck. Her
talented vaginal muscles expertly massaged my stiff meat as her hips ground
against mine; her ass bounced happily against my balls as I thrust up into
her. I only needed to pull her a little forward to get her succulent nipples
to my mouth. I chewed lightly on her wide, flat nipples, making her squeal
in pleasure. "Ooh yeah, bite 'em a little harder, not too hard...yeah like
that. Oooh you're making me cum!" she announced loudly, her body starting to
quiver against me, fucking me harder.

"Yeah...yeah...yeah...yeah...yeah..yeahyeahyeahyeah..." Finally her body
tensed and she dug her fingers into my shoulders. Her cunt muscles convulsed
wonderfully against my cock, slowly spreading to the rest of her body until
with one final whole-body orgasmic shake she collapsed on top of me. I
stroked her hair gently as she caught her breath, my rigid tool still
filling her.

I glanced over to the TV. There, Debbie was on her knees, her mouth wide
open as a stream of creamy jizm sailed mostly into her mouth, just a little
splattering on her cheek. A man's finger, I couldn't tell whose, wiped the
stray liquid up and placed it on her smiling lips. The camera turned to show
her three costars sitting drained on the couch. Kevin slid a box out from
under an end table and opened it, exposing a wide variety of dildos,
vibrators and various other sex toys. "Lay back and relax Debbie," he told
her with a devilish grin as the three men rooted through the box. "We'll be
right over to keep you entertained while we recover for scene two."

A sudden sound to my right caught my attention and both Debbie and I turned
our head to look over the back of the sofa. Sheila quickly dismounted from
Marty's lap and dropped to her knees.  She took the engorged head of his
long dick into her mouth and with her hands on his heavy balls coaxed his
cum into her mouth. She swallowed, then tenderly kissed the head of his
cock, swirling her tongue playfully around the tip.

"If you're done over there," Debbie playfully called, "Mike might enjoy it
if you gave me a hand."

"I'm sure he would," she said with promise, "I'm on my way!"

"Why don't you sit up," my buxom companion suggested as she lifted herself
off of me.  I turned and sat facing forward on the couch as Debbie knelt on
my left and Sheila came around to kneel on my right.

"Mmmm, Debbie tastes so good on your cock," Sheila told me after her hungry
tongue lapped the length of my shaft.

"I do, don't I!" Debbie agreed, then slid my cock halfway down her throat.
Sheila tilted her head and took my balls into her mouth, first one then the
other.  I glanced straight ahead of me at the big-screen to see Debbie
welcoming a vigorous assault by her three companions armed with an array of
latex implements. I quickly decided that as exciting as that was, it
couldn't hold a candle to the live show, besides I was the star here!  Two
warm, wet mouths and four pillowy tits worked my genitals with experienced
skill. First one would deep-throat my entire thick eight inches, then move
aside for the other to do the same. Debbie leaned forward and wrapped her
boobs around my dick, pushing them together with her hands. She rolled her
shoulders and worked her udders with her hands to give me a fantastic
tit-fuck until the lubrication of her saliva started to wear thin. She
leaned over and noisily licked my cock until it was dripping once again,
then moved aside for Sheila to take a turn with her breasts. They alternated
back and forth three times apiece before I couldn't hold back any longer.

"I'm gonna cum!" told them anxiously. Sheila and Debbie both leaned in
mashing their tits together with my cock was right in the center. They
rubbed them along my shaft for just a moment before I came with gasp. Four
mini geysers of semen shot straight up and then splattered back down across
their cleavage. They smiled at me in satisfaction, then leaned across my
cock to kiss each other deeply. Sheila lifted Debbie's cum splattered
breasts to her mouth to lick them clean, then lay back on the floor inviting
Debbie to return the favor.

Marty walked over and sat next to me on the couch. We sat quietly watching
the two lovely, naked wenches kissing and fondling one another on the carpet
for several minutes.  Finally, he broke the silence with a smile.

"Do I even need to ask, Mike?"

I grinned back at him, "Really isn't much of a decision, is it?"
# # #

End Chapter 3

As always, any and all feed back is greatly(!) appreciated. Please email
comments, criticisms and suggestions to rumrunner2001@yahoo.com

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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