index


Message-ID: <29429asstr$984978603@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
User-Agent: Microsoft-Outlook-Express-Macintosh-Edition/5.02.2022
From: MrBackgammon <mrbackgammon@mail.asstr-mirror.org>
Mime-version: 1.0
Content-type: text/plain; charset="US-ASCII"
Content-transfer-encoding: 7bit
Subject: {ASSM} Seventy Five
Date: Mon, 19 Mar 2001 00:10:03 -0500
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

A formatted and illustrated version of this story, along with my other
published 
works, is available at http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/mr_backgammon/www.

The only reason I put up this site is to share my stories with you, and to
find 
out what you think of them. Please, take a moment to send me a note by
emailing 
me at mr_backgammon@home.com

All stories on these pages (unless otherwise indicated) are copyright
(c)1997,1998,1999,2000,2001 by Mr. Backgammon. All rights reserved. Please
do not 
post them on other web pages, or distribute them electronically or in any
other 
format without the previous permission of Mr. Backgammon. For permission,
please 
email MrBackgammon@home.com

              Seventy Five
              by Mr. Backgammon
   
Seventy Five! I think 75 is a milestone, don't you? Particularly when my
final objective is only 100. I'm three quarters of the way there.

On the way to what, you ask? My 100th guy. I designed a stickpin just for
the occasion. It's the symbols of the two sexes, interlocked and made out of
platinum for, of course, 75. The center of it is a ruby for my red hair. I
had two of them made. When I showed them to my husband Don he asked what I
was planning on doing with them.

I told him my plans were to wear very sexy panties, and pin the first one
right over my crotch, so that the guy would find it and I could explain the
significance of that particular screw. Afterwards, I'd give him the other
one, as a memento. Don thought I had it pretty well thought out.

For nearly a year, I've been looking for the perfect guy. He'd be tall,
handsome, exciting, and suave. Those in are addition to my normal qualities
of safe, clean, responsible, persistent and confidential. A man like this,
of course, doesn't happen by every day. I've even let a couple of chances
pass, waiting for just the right stud. (No big deal, those guys will be
available, I think, for numbers 76 and 77.)

But things don't always go as planned, do they? Here's my quandary - Is the
last guy my 75th? And, if so, what do I do with that jewelry? Let me tell
you the whole story.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Doreen was a virgin. There is absolutely no doubt about that one. She was a
virgin when we met as roommates that first day of college, and if she wasn't
a virgin on her wedding day, it's only because she and Alan knew they'd be
together, monogamously, for the rest of their lives.

Doreen was, and still is, my best friend. She knew all about me,
particularly about how I wasn't a virgin. She found out that the hard way.

About six weeks after our freshman year started, I took a guy back to our
dorm room. Of course it was illegal, and if I got caught, I'd get shipped
back to Podunk. But I knew that if they sent back every girl who did it, the
Senior Class would be all men. Except, of course, for Doreen.

So there I am, lying on my bunk with this guy. It's the middle of the
afternoon, and I know we'll be okay because Doreen's got a math class. We've
just finished a great screw, and he's laying on his side while I'm on my
back, and I've got my hand down playing with his dick, hoping it'll come to
life again. The door opens, and in walks Doreen. She looks at him, she looks
at his thing, she looks at me, she looks at his thing again, gives a little
shriek, and backs out of the room, closing the door behind her. Other than
Alan, that may be the only real live cock she's ever seen.

Later on, we catch up with each other. She's a little peeved, not because
she couldn't come into the room, but because she's worried I'm going to get
pregnant. I explain the birds and bees and condoms and spermicides to her,
and let her know that it can't happen. (It never did, either!) We make a
pact - she won't judge me for what I am, and I won't try to force her into
my lifestyle. I did promise her that I'd never take another guy into our
dorm room again, and I kept that promise. Luckily, we only spent three
semesters in there, and then we rented an apartment with separate bedrooms.
After that, she just banged on the wall when we got too noisy.

Doreen was with me the night when I found out what I wanted to be when I
grew up. A bunch of us were sitting around and a guy I was in the process of
trying to gently dump figured out he wasn't welcome anymore, and called me a
whore.

Vanessa looked at him, and in her best slave accent said, "Sheeeittt, that
girl ain't no hoe. You have to have at least a hundred guys 'foe you a hoe.
An' from what I seen, Tom-boy, you ain't worth no hundred, sweetcakes!"

We all laughed, but I took his crack personally. To get even with him, I
went to another party where I knew his best friend was, pretended I was
drunk, and got him to take me to their room. When we got there, I let him
make out with me, and let him strip me down to my bra. I got his thing out,
and gave him a handjob. My timing was perfect. Just as we were wiping it off
Tom's sheets (I made sure we were on his bed!) Tom walks in and 'catches'
us. Screaming and shouting ensue, I tell them they're both lousy lays, and I
walk back to the party, laughing my ass off.

But the next day I start to feel a little guilty, and I get to thinking
about what Tom and Vanessa said. Was I a whore? I was just starting to
understand how much I like the varieties and vagaries of different men, and
I decided that a objective of one-hundred men in my life was not only
realistic, but would be one heck of a goal. I made up my mind right then and
there that I would bag my limit.

That day, I started keeping a list of the different men I'd been with. It
wasn't much of a chore then - it was just springtime in our freshman year,
and Tom was only my fifth conquest. Since then, I've been very meticulous,
and kept a detailed list of every guy I've been with, along with dates,
ratings and degrees of kinkiness. Here's the summary:

High School    2   
        
College    11    (I don't count Tom's roommate, I never fucked him.)
        
After college    7 
        
My first husband, Ray    1
        
During my first marriage    8
        
During my divorce    35    (helped by a couple of very good orgies! )
        See Footnote at end of story for details
My second husband, Don    1
        
During my second marriage    9


That's a total of 74 guys I've been with. I only count guys that come in one
of my three holes, although I've never had a guy in the back door that
didn't come in the front, too. I do count a couple of guys who only got a
blowjob; that's almost as personal as being in my cunt, and both of them
would have been invited to head on down below if they'd wanted to. Now the
question is, does my latest guy count as my 75th, or am I still searching?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Oh, what's this about all the screwing during my marriages? Well, during the
first one, I was young, and didn't have it figured out how jealous a man
could be. Or maybe I just didn't care. It doesn't matter, either way it's my
fault.

Doreen tried to warn me. She told me I wasn't ready for a wedding, even
though she'd been married over a year, and was pregnant with her first
daughter. She told me I wasn't stable enough, that I'd hurt Ray, and then,
when I did go through with it, she told me to my face on my wedding day not
to screw around.

Of course I didn't listen to her! In the two years Ray stuck around, I had
round heels, as my record shows. And I wasn't very smart about it. When Ray
found out, it was pretty much over. And then Doreen held my hands, and let
me cry on her shoulder, and didn't even tell me she told me so.

Doreen was aware of my prodigious record between my marriages, and again,
just tried to make sure I didn't get hurt. Which I didn't. At all. Then,
when I found Don, and just stopped fooling around because I was happy with
what I'd found, Doreen was ecstatic, and again stood as my bridesmaid. This
time, she didn't give me a lecture, but she did tell me she didn't have to!

A few years later, Don began an affair, with my support and blessing. A few
months later, I reciprocated with his assistance. Since then, we've had an
open relationship. We both have affairs, and tell each other about them. For
the last three years, we've even had another couple, Dave and Judy, who are
sort of like our mutual fuck buddies. It's nice - I get to scratch my itch
two or three times a year, and nobody gets hurt.

Both of us are very circumspect. We watch out who we have fun with, and try
to make sure that no one gets hurt. So far, I don't think anyone has. And no
one, I think, other than the people we have fun with, knows about our secret
lives.

No one, that is, except Doreen.

After my first conquest broke up (he was a guy in our hometown who I was on
a committee with,) I was looking around for someone else to do it with.
Luckily, our college reunion was coming around. I go to it every year, as do
about 60 or 70 others, including Doreen. Rich was a semi-regular, hitting it
every few years.

I met Rich in college when I was dating one of his best friends during our
junior year. I'd learned my lesson from Tom, and didn't take Rich to bed,
even though both of us liked each other a lot. I figured I'd let the summer
take its course, and then make a play for him in our senior year. But while
he was doing an internship, Rich found himself a girl (who he eventually
married,) and we never did get together.

Rich was still married, but when we got together, we always kidded each
other and had a lot of fun. Once, during the years when I was being faithful
to Don, we started to make out at the get-together, but I stopped it pretty
quickly. It was clear, however, that if I ever had the inclination, Rich was
willing to help me out.

So I called Rich up where he worked, and it didn't take him long to figure
out why I was so interested in if he was going to go that year. We made
plans to reach the campus a day before the official festivities began. (Yes,
just to satisfy your prurient interests, Don didn't accompany me that year
because he knew I was going to be otherwise occupied. Although I'm not
absolutely positive, Rich's wife may have allowed him the same privilege.)

Late in the afternoon, I checked into the campus hotel, where all the alumni
stay. The clerk said, "Oh, yes, Suite 209." When I took my luggage up there,
a dozen roses awaited me, as well as a bottle of champagne on ice. The
bedclothes were drawn down, and a beautifully wrapped package awaited me on
the pillows. I opened it and found a midnight blue bra and panties set. Also
enclosed were a dozen condoms and a note that read, "Slip these on, call me
in room 211, and I'll slip one of these on. Love, Rich." Of course I
realized that he was right next door, and so I took some time primping
myself and getting myself into the getup. I banged around a bit, making sure
that Rich knew I was in the room, and when I was ready, first I silently
opened the interlocking door and then unwrapped a rubber. I called him, and
when he answered, I told him to come on into my room. He came in, dressed in
a matching pair of midnight blue french-cut briefs, and I let him chase me
into the corner of the room. He grabbed for me, and I reached down,
unleashed his tool, slid the condom onto it (he was as ready as I was,) and
let him skewer me with my back to the wall. He had good control of himself
and we bumped and grinded for three minutes or so. Three minutes is a long
time in that position. Then we slid onto the couch and I climbed on top of
him to finish both him and myself off. It was a great first fuck,
spontaneous, quick and totally satisfying. When it's like that the first
time, you can't wait for the second to find out if it'll still be as good.

We just sat there, sort of cuddling and sort of making out, and he stripped
me of the lingerie. When we were both naked, Rich opened up the champagne
and poured the wine directly out of the bottle into my mouth. When I began
laughing and letting the beverage slip out of my mouth, Rich licked it up,
and then began pouring it all over me, licking it up where it spilled. He
had great tongue action, and after he got done with my nipples, he poured it
lower and lower. Finally, he got to the good part, and I tilted myself up so
that my pussy could hold quite a bit of the champagne without spilling it.
He licked three or four helpings out, and then started on me proper. Rich
knew just where my prominent button was, and what to do with it, and, like
the good mistress I am, I came properly for him.

Then, of course, it was my turn. I got a glass, filled it, dunked his limp
penis into it and licked it off. It wasn't long before it wouldn't go into
the thin crystal (Rich turned out to be thicker than average,) and so I
started sucking in earnest. Before he could come, he got me to sit back on
the couch, fitted another rubber on, knelt between my legs and entered me
again. It was even better than the first time, because Rich could really
control his movements in that position. He pumped in, out and around inside
of me, varying the rhythm and tempo until I was in full spend. Then he
turned me over and did me from the rear, making me even more frantic.
Finally, I couldn't stand it any longer, stripped the rubber off of him, and
went down on him. I've been told by many guys, including Don, that I give
the best blowjobs in town. In fact, in many towns. When Rich started moaning
and pumping into my mouth, I knew I had another satisfied customer.

The rest of the night is sort of a blur, because of the champagne and all
the sex. I seem to remember room service, and then finally we slept.

We sort of woke up mutually, sometime around eight. Rich went into the
shower, and I just laid there, luxuriating in the feeling of being well
fucked, and knew I wanted some more. I put on a green negligee I'd brought,
hoping to get Rich ready again, and the phone rang, and it was Doreen. She
was going to get in later that afternoon, and just wanted to check with me
about a few details. We were chatting about our plans, when Rich came out of
the bathroom, toweling off his hair, and yelled, "Lisa, you are one great
lay!" When he looked at me and saw that I was on the phone, he ducked back
into the bathroom.

Doreen stuttered a couple of times, finished the conversation quickly, and
then told me she'd see me later. The idea that I'd been caught sort of
excited me, and I was able to get Rich all sweaty again.

It didn't take long for Doreen to get me aside that evening. After a few
false starts, she asked, point-blank, if I was having an affair. I admitted
it, and then, before she could start in on me, I told her about my
arrangement with Don. She plainly didn't believe it, and was clearly pissed
with me for the rest of the reunion. Rich wasn't, though. He met me in my
room every evening and to this day, we get together every once in awhile.

Doreen stayed upset with me until Don took her aside and talked to her, and
let her know it was okay. Once she heard it from him, she turned into her
old self. Later, she told me she doesn't understand the life I choose to
live, but like always, she refuses to judge me. She just wants to make sure
that I don't get hurt. Don's included in that, too. I don't tell her about
every conquest I've made, like I used to in college, but she's been aware of
a few of them. She's a pal. She'd do anything for me, and I know I'll do
anything for her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Alan and Don get along pretty good, too. Just before their last son
graduated from high school, Alan bought a sailboat on a lake a couple of
hours north of us, and asked Don if he'd help 'break it in.' They stayed up
there the whole weekend going around in circles. I knew Don was as hooked as
Alan was when he suggested we buy a boat, too. I got him to climb off that
one by appealing to logic; if we were off on a boat in the middle of the
water, how could we be golfing? Don realized the futility of trying to have
too many playthings, and for the next couple of years the two of them took
day trips up to the lake, and sometimes Doreen and I had to go with them.

Before last summer rolled around, Alan started pushing a sailing trip around
the Virgin Islands. Don thought it was a good idea, too, and Doreen seemed
to be supportive. I wasn't sure about it. A week out on the water with
nothing more to do than read and drink doesn't appeal to me that much; I'm
more of a big city type. But I was outvoted, so one Friday night I'm aboard
a flight to St. Thomas. The guys planned the whole thing - they got the
charter, and 'laid in' all kinds of supplies, mostly liquor, so that all we
had to do was sail from place to place and anchor in pristine bays off
deserted islands. I'd done some research of my own, and discovered that the
wardrobe de riguer for such a voyage is topless. And that's only if you get
cold. But I was going with Doreen and Alan, so I packed as many one-piece
suits as bikinis, and brought along a bunch of cover-ups.

The first couple of days went along pretty much as expected. Sail in the
wild tropical winds from about ten o'clock in the morning until about three,
then find someplace to anchor without another boat in sight. In the morning
and then in the evening we'd all jump in for swim and play time. Maybe some
volleyball or keep away or something like that. A little roughhousing went
on, bodies crashing into bodies, but I never felt uncomfortable with it, and
Doreen didn't seem to mind the incidental brushes.

On the third day there was almost no breeze at all, and the sea was as flat
as a tabletop. While the guys were trying to figure out how to get the boat
to go somewhere, anywhere, Doreen and I thought about what we would make for
dinner, and the four of us came to the same conclusion - head for port! We
turned the motor on and set course for the nearest village. When we finally
got there, it was late afternoon, and we got off the boat in the metropolis,
glad to be back in 'civilization.' There were only two establishments in the
place that catered to tourists, and we hit both of them. First we had a long
dinner of fresh vegetables and fish, and then we went over to the nightclub.
It was long after dark when we arrived, and the place was, if not jumping,
at least lively. A reggae band was playing loudly, and perhaps fifty people,
mostly tourists but some natives, were imbibing and dancing. We gladly
joined them in both of their pursuits, and until well after two in the
morning we got wild and crazy.

Mostly, Alan danced with Doreen and Don pranced with me, but occasionally we
would switch off. This wasn't odd; Alan and I often danced with each other
at weddings or parties at our Club. After awhile, Doreen decided she wanted
to get some air, but Alan wanted to have another Planter's Punch. I sent Don
out to look after our friend; even if we were in the tropics, it was still a
strange area, and women should be escorted. After they left, Alan and I
started dancing again, and then they shifted to a couple of slow dances.
Alan grabbed me, and we drifted around the dance floor. Soon, I was aware
that he was pressing himself to me much closer than he'd ever done before,
and he stole a little kiss. I let him, thinking it was just the romance of
the setting, but when I felt his hand wandering toward my ass, I sat down!
Half an hour later, we were back on board, bedded down on our proper side of
the curtain.

The next day was much better. The breeze kicked up, we sailed along, and
everyone was in much better spirits. As usual, we anchored in the late
afternoon, and took a swim. When we frolicked, even though Alan and I made
contact as usual, it didn't seem like any big deal.

After we climbed back on the boat, Doreen and I began to sun. The guys
folded sails or something, and Doreen turned to me and said, "You know, to
hell with this. There they are, with just their loose trunks on, and here we
are, with these tight things on." She was wearing a bikini with some
underwiring in the bra. "I'm going to do something about this!" And she
whipped her top off! A few moments later, Don looked over and nearly twisted
his neck. He didn't know whether to stare at her in amazement, or to ignore
the whole thing. Alan caught his act, glanced at her, and said, "Hey, you're
finally going to get comfortable, huh?"

Now I'm not a nudist, but I've never seen the use of clothes just for the
sake of covering up something that doesn't really need it. (Fashion? But
that's another subject, dear.) So I went below, took the one-piece off, and
put just bottoms on. When I went back on deck, I could tell that Alan was
trying not to gawk, but the longer we let it go on, the less uncomfortable
the situation became. The night ended up with both of us girls eating dinner
and cleaning up without changing our costume. Later, Don and I went to bed,
and heard the sounds of the other couple making love up on the deck, so we
did it too.

I always woke earlier than the others. When I went topside it was a gorgeous
dawn, and I decided to stay with the new uniform of the day. I jumped into
the ocean for a little swim, and after a few strokes, I saw Alan on the
deck. I motioned for him to come on in, and he splashed in and floundered
over to me. We continued a few hundred yards, until we were both worn out.
I'm a better swimmer than he is, but he can stay afloat much easier than I
can; I often hung onto his shoulders as a flotation device and that morning
I didn't see any reason to change the habit. But as we rested in the deep
water, I began to feel his arm brush up against my chest more than was
absolutely necessary. I extricated myself, and swam towards the beach, into
shallower water. When I could barely stand up, I just looked at the beauty
of the island. A few minutes later, I felt Alan's lips at the back of my
neck, and his hand cupped my bosom. I turned around in surprise, and he
grabbed me and pressed our groins together while he attempted to kiss me. I
avoided as much contact as I could, and said, "Alan, you know I like you,
but we just can't do this. Do you understand?"

"But, Lisa, you're just so . . ."

"No, Alan. We can't hurt Doreen or Don."

"But . . ."

"I'm going back to the boat, Alan. I'm trusting you not to do anything like
this again." I took off, outswimming him, and by the time he got back to the
boat I had a bra and cover-up on, and Don was rustling around, thanks to a
few nudges from me. Within a few hours, everything seemed back to normal,
but for the rest of the trip I didn't go topless, and I was very careful
about touching him when we played. He seemed to be okay with that, and
didn't try anything else. As far as I was concerned, it was forgotten. No, I
didn't tell Don about it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A few weeks later, the guys were spending a day at the lake, and Doreen and
I were in her backyard, just chatting. We went on for awhile, and then she
said, "Lisa, can I talk to you? About sex?"

This wasn't a big deal. The first time she was pregnant, she realized that
she wasn't able to satisfy Alan completely, and she wanted to know how to
give him a good blowjob. This was before the Internet, (not that Doreen
would ever enter a chat room!) and she needed a good reference. None better
than me, she figured, and I was happy to give her a few pointers. In the
ensuing years, when they got bored or other minor problems would crop up,
I'd help her out with some sound advice.

This time, however, it was a big deal.

"Lisa, I think Alan's going to have an affair."

"Oh, come on, Doreen, he loves you. He's not going to do anything like
that."

"But he's been fantasizing about it in bed with me. It's on his mind. He's
never had anyone but me, and now that the kids are out of the house, he's
got too much time to himself."

"So he's going through male menopause. Big deal. He'll get over it."

We went around that block for a long time. Although I wasn't convinced he
would ever get serious, (or know what to do to get it if he did!), Doreen
was sure that sooner or later, she was going to have to deal with the 'other
woman.'

"Okay, let's assume for the moment that you're right. So he goes out and has
a quick affair. So you'll be hurt for a little while, but honey, before long
he'll come back, wagging his tail behind him. You've got absolutely nothing
to worry about, even in the remote possibility that he really does go
through with it."

"I wish I was so sure about it. But with all the widows and divorced women
out there, I'm afraid he'll like her more than he likes me, and I'll lose
him."

We talked about that one for awhile. This, apparently, was her big problem,
that after he went away he'd never come back. Having seen it happen all too
often before, (one guy chased me for two years,) I could only be so
supportive. Finally, we got around to looking for solutions. I sure didn't
have one, but Doreen did.

"Lisa, what I need to do is get him a different woman who would service him
once or twice, and then send him home." This one floored me.

"What are you going to do, get him a hooker for his birthday?"

"No, that wouldn't work. At least, I don't think it would. What I need is a
girl who he's already interested in, but is safe. You know Alan's been quite
specific in bed; I know what he wants. I think he'd like me to be that, but
I just can't."

"So what's he looking for?"

"Well, a girl that's really exciting. A woman who's been with a bunch of
guys, who knows what a man wants." I wasn't sure I liked the way this was
going. "His ideal girl has beautiful tits, and is very exciting. Sort of
like you."

"Wait a minute. You're not suggesting . . ."

"Lisa, he's never told me in so many words that you're his ideal woman. But
for weeks after we came back from the cruise, he couldn't stop thinking
about the day we went topless. And how you danced with him at the nightclub.
You really affected him that week."

"Doreen, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to . . ."

"No, it's okay, it's just that you're so sexy you can't turn it off. Don't
worry about it, even if he tried to kiss you. Or something. I know you
didn't encourage him." I wondered if Alan had been talking out of school.
"Besides, you've got other advantages."

"Such as?"

"Such as the fact that you're his best friends wife. And that you have an
open relationship?"

"He doesn't know that, does he?"

"Hell, Lisa, when I found out what you were doing, I had to talk about it
with someone! If it's any consolation, he defended you, telling me it was
none of my business."

I went to get us another drink, and get my head in order. When I got back, I
tried to summarize the situation.

"All right. What I hear is that you think that Alan, sooner or later, is
going to go fool around on you. You want to set him up with an easy girl,
but someone who's not a threat. That's me. In other words, you want me to go
fuck your husband until he's satisfied, and then you think he'll get over
it." I used the F-word on purpose; Doreen doesn't like obscenity, and I
wanted to shock her if I could.

"Pretty much, that's it. Don't say no, not yet. Will you think about it?
Please?"

We talked about it some more. I shared with her what I thought were the weak
points of her plan. How if we went through with this, it might just whet his
appetite. How he might wind up obsessing on me. How, in the long run, it
might ruin our relationship. For each one, she came back, quickly, with a
retort. He'd never been a man to fool around; this was just a phase we had
to get him through. (All of a sudden, it had become my problem, as well as
hers.) How I was very good at controlling guys; surely Alan would be a walk
in the park. And, of course, how could such a sweet thing ever come between
us, when we already had so much water over the dam.

I could speak to the President of the United States and tell him to go fly a
kite. But I couldn't refuse my best friend. "I'll speak to Don about it," I
said. "If he doesn't kill me, we'll see about it."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I waited three days until the right moment, which came, of course, in bed
after sex. When I first broke the subject, Don just about split a gut.
"Yeah, he's been asking me about what the women I had before you were like.
He hasn't asked me about Jill, or Fran, or Judy though. Are you sure Doreen
gave him the whole story?"

"She couldn't. I've never told her about your girls. Maybe she thinks I'm
the only one who screws around."

"Well, do you want to do this? I mean, this could be heap big medicine, you
know."

We talked about it for an hour or so, and he brought up all the same
objections I had. But the bottom line for him was that I had to help my
friend. When I asked him how it might affect his relationship with Alan, he
replied that it wouldn't matter to him, and that he didn't think Alan was
the type of guy to rub somebody's nose in it. If worse came to worse, he'd
just have to talk to him about it. If I decided to go ahead, he'd be cool
with it, like he always was.

So, the ball was still firmly in my court.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When I got together with Doreen a couple of days later, I got weak. I can't
refuse that girl anything. But we did get some ground rules down:

      - I'd only go to bed with Alan two or, at the very most, three times.
Then it would be over. Over! Do you hear me, never again!
     - I wanted to do it in their house, but not in their bed. I wanted him
to think about her while he was doing it to me. I figured that if we did it
anywhere else, it would be easier for him to ignore her.

      - She had to trust me to make sure that he got what he needed, without
giving him more than that. She did. I was the expert, she said.


I set it up for a Wednesday night a couple of weeks after that. Following
our plan, Doreen told Alan she was going to a town council meeting, and
after that she was going to have coffee with some of her girl friends. She
had to tell him she'd be back about ten o'clock. And come back promptly at
9:05.

I prepared differently for this "date" than I had for any other in history.
First, I hadn't shaved my legs since Sunday, so I was good and stubbly.
Then, when I got home from work, I went for a jog, and didn't shower. I did,
however, give myself a douche; some men feel that a musty vagina is the
world's best aphrodisiac, and if Alan was one of those, I didn't need that
distraction. I put my sports bra back on and donned a pair of white panties
that I'd bought at K-Mart just for this occasion. Blue jeans and a flannel
shirt finished off the outfit. I didn't bother to put make-up on, and my
hair wasn't properly groomed, either.

I stopped over about 8:00, an hour after she left. It wasn't unusual for me
to just pop in. "Hi," I said, walking casually through the sliding door into
their downstairs den. The four of us were quite casual in our comings and
goings.

"Oh, hello. What are you doing here?"

"Looking for Doreen. Is she upstairs?"

"No, she went down to one of those damn meetings." He wasn't appreciative of
her newfound interest in politics. "She's not going to be back for a couple
of hours."

"Oh, that's too bad. I wanted to show her some pictures I found of the trip
to the Virgin Islands." I was pretty sure that Alan hadn't seen most of the
pictures, and was counting on him to have forgotten the rest. "Do you want
to take a look at them?"

He started flipping through the thick sheave of glossies. The first fifteen
or twenty were of the boat or islands. Then he got to a few of us playing
around in the water. I went behind him, looked over his shoulder and made
comments about how much fun the trip had been. A few flips later and he was
looking at the ten or so pictures where Doreen and I were topless. In most
of them, his wife had thrown an arm over her breasts or done something else
to hide them. I, on the other hand, was displaying my tits for all the world
to see. When he slowed down to get a good look at these, I gently
(accidentally) brushed my breasts along his arm. "We had a really great time
down there, didn't we?"

"Yeah, we sure did," he grunted.

"Alan, remember the morning we went swimming by ourselves? Well, I'm sorry I
wasn't a little nicer to you then. It's just that, well, Doreen was right
there, and if she had seen us, uh, it just wouldn't have looked right. You
see that, don't you?"

"Umm, hmm." He was enjoying the pressure of my hand on his neck. "But, if we
ever get the chance, just once or twice mind you, I really think you're a
sweet guy. . ." By this time, I had my face right beside his. He turned his
face to me, and I kissed him. I made sure it was just a nice kiss, not too
hard, and just a little tongue. He responded in kind, and we sort of hung
around a little, letting our lips meet. Finally, I broke it up.

"Whew! You're a great kisser," I fibbed. "Can I get a drink?"

While he made it for me, I sat down on the couch. "Sit down here," I urged.
Of course, when he did, I sidled up beside him and started rubbing him. For
awhile he was tentative and then he put his hand on my arm. I didn't have a
lot of time, so I placed it on my breast. He got the idea, and started
pawing me, and kissing me hard. I knew I had him where I wanted.

"Alan, you're not going to tell Doreen, are you?"

"No, of course not."

"What time do you think she'll be home?"

"She said about 10:00." The guy was writing a textbook in how not to have an
affair. I knew Doreen would be home a full hour earlier than that, and his
inattentiveness would just make it easier for us to scare him out of trying
again!

"Let's go upstairs." I led him up to the second floor, and then into their
daughters room. Fathers are compulsive about their little girls, and this
was perfect for the purpose. There was an alarm clock, and I checked the
time against my wristwatch - it was six minutes slow.

I sat down on the bed, and he followed me. Before too long, I was on my
back, still fully dressed and Alan was on top of me. He unbuttoned my
blouse, flipped the bra up and started sucking on my nipples. I unzipped his
pants and grabbed a hold of his dick. He was ready to go, and just in time.
We only had 35 minutes before Doreen would return. When he went to take my
blouse and bra off, he managed to get me totally tied up, and if he hadn't
been so intent, I would have split a gut laughing. When he finally had me
topless, I took off his shirt and pants and then I rubbed my tits all over
him. He was getting harder yet, and then I finally got him out of his
boxers. He was ready to go.

I laid back and let him take off my jeans and panties. He took a good look
at my pussy, and started fingering it, ineffectively. While he was having
fun, I licked my hand and started applying friction to his tool.

He started to kneel between my legs, and I stopped him. "We need a condom.
Do you have any up here?"

"Cripes, no," he moaned.

"That's okay. I've got one in my purse. Lay here and wait while I go get
it."

I'd planned this. I wanted him to lie there, in his daughter's bedroom, and
think about the dastardly act he was about to commit. I put my jeans and top
on, and went downstairs to retrieve the protection. I wasn't in a hurry; I
wanted the situation to sink into his brain. When I returned, he was still
lying there, stiff as a two by four. I put the package on the end table,
right next to the family photograph, and then I slowly undressed for him. We
had seventeen minutes left. I took his tool in my mouth, and could taste the
pre-cum. I knew he was pretty excited, and that he wouldn't last long, so I
picked up the foil and handed it to him.

"Put this on." It took him a few moments to tear the package, and then, from
the way he handled it, I knew it had been years since he'd used one, if he
ever did. Finally, I had to reach over and help him, and I knew from the way
he was twitching that he wouldn't last long.

When the rubber was adjusted correctly, I laid down on the bed and opened my
legs. Alan knelt between them, and got on top of me. We kissed and he tried
to get it to enter me, but he kept missing the mark. I reached between us,
grabbed it, and placed it right at the entrance to my vagina. At that
precise moment, I felt Alan's body go rigid and the tremors in my hand
proved to me that he was in the midst of premature ejaculation. I thought he
might try to push into me and finish himself of, but instead he let me
stroke his tool while he came. I know that his head was right at my lips,
but I'm not sure just how far he entered my canal. I let him stay on top of
me, and stroked his tool until he was empty. He rolled off of me and we laid
there while he finished wheezing. We had eleven minutes left - plenty of
time. I took a tissue, removed the rubber and placed it on the table, next
to the picture, making sure it wouldn't leak. Then we just laid there, next
to each other and I told him it would be better the next time.

"Listen," I said, with seven minutes left, "I think we'd better break this
up before Doreen gets home, don't you?"

"We've got plenty of time," he told me, and then he started to finger my
pussy a little bit. Just at that precise moment, we heard the garage door
begin to open. I registered, with delight, the look of shock on his face.
This was cutting it a bit close, but I figured it was just what we needed. I
just hoped Doreen would stay downstairs so that we wouldn't get 'caught.'

"Quick, get dressed. Go downstairs and just chit-chat. Try not to be
nervous." He did as he was ordered. I was a couple of steps behind him when
he had all his clothes on. "Go!" I commanded.

He almost tripped going down the stairs, and after he got all the way down,
I went into the bathroom and flushed the evidence down the toilet. Before I
went down the flight of steps, I looked at the clock and realized my watch
was six minutes slow, not fast.

Doreen greeted me and I just told her about the photos. One more time we
went through them, and Doreen studied them as if she'd never seen them
before. As we viewed the topless photographs, Doreen remarked, "That was
fun, wasn't it. Don't we both have nice tits, dear?" Alan was just taking a
drink, and choked on it. I hung around for a half-hour or so, and then I
made my excuses. Alan followed me out, and after he closed my car door for
me, I rolled the window down and told him that I was looking forward to the
next time.

When I got home, I greeted Don and then took a hot shower and shaved myself.
Don knew what I am, and he's even seen me screw other men, but this made me
feel dirty. When he came to bed, I feigned sleep.

When I picked up my voicemails at work in the middle of the next morning,
Doreen's ecstatic voice entreated me to call her. I closed the door to my
office and dialed her over my salad at lunchtime.

"What did you do to him last night? He was fantastic! He even asked me to
put on some sexy underwear, and then he got some oil out. What happened?
Didn't it work out?"

I decided not to tell her the whole story. "We started, but in the middle,
well, he just didn't feel like continuing." That was sort of a truth, wasn't
it? "Listen, before I continue the treatments, I think we should let it
settle for a few days. Let's try to figure out where he is, okay?"

The four of us were supposed to go out on the boat the following weekend,
and I wondered if I should call it off; I was still feeling if not, well,
guilty, then sort of soiled still, I guess. I didn't tell Don what I'd done.
For some reason, even though it might turn around and bite us all in the
ass, I was hoping it would all go away.

When we got to the pier, Doreen was in the hold, and Alan was working
topside. When he first glanced at me, I thought his face flushed a bit, but
he acted normally. 'Good,' I thought, 'at least he's not going to make a
fool out of himself, and me with him.' We cast off and floated out to the
middle of the lake. The guys did some sort of fast turning maneuver they
were working on for awhile and then we settled into a long sail downwind.
Don went up onto the bow to play with the sails or something, and Doreen
went up there to sun. For the first time since our 'affair' started, Alan
and I were alone.

Alan started the conversation. "Listen, we need to talk."

"Um-hmm."

"Well, uh, I really enjoyed the other night, but I don't feel very good
about it."

"How so?"

"Well, I mean, we cheated on Don and Doreen. If they ever find out, well,
they'll never trust us again."

I decided not to disagree. "Well, if we keep it up, they're bound to figure
it out, sooner or later."

"Well, yeah. That's why I think we stop it now."

I was astounded. This was way too easy! "You mean, you don't want me
anymore?"

He tried to take it easy on me. "Oh, Lisa, I liked it, I like you, but it's
just not worth it. Can't you see that?"

I started to pout a little bit. I didn't want him to think I was relieved or
anything. Just then Don came back, and we had to stop talking. For the next
couple of hours, we sailed around. Finally, on our way back into the slip,
he got a chance to get me aside again. "Lisa, is it okay? I mean, you won't
be too upset, will you?"

"No, I guess not. I'll always remember it, though."

"So will I."

Weeks went by, and nothing. Finally, when Doreen and I went to a ballet by
ourselves, (trying to get those two to go to anything cultural is suicide,)
I broached the subject. "Well, anymore talk out of him about another woman?"

"No, not a peep. Whatever you did to him cured his itch. What did you do,
anyway?"

"Nothing, just gave him a little touch of the medicine. And he found out he
didn't like the taste. And why should he, honey, when he's got a banquet in
you?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And that's the story. I believe that Alan will never stray again, and things
will be just fine in mid-America.

But this leaves me in a quandary. Did Alan and I make love? Or should I
assume that he never got there, in which case I should save those stickpins
and continue to look for Mr. 75?

What do you think?

         *******************************
         * Lisa really is curious about your opinion
         * To let her know your feeling, click on
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/mr_backgammon/www/dd_75.html,
         *     Scroll to the bottom of the screen and fill in the form.
         * A summary of votes will be posted to the site
         *******************************


******  Foot Note on Lisa's Orgies  *******

Okay, sickee, here's the details. Before my three orgies, I'd been in a few
threesomes. Either two girls or a guy, or the opposite.

(Yes, I've licked pussy. Yes, I've let girls lick mine. Yes, I made her
come. Yes, she made me come. No, I've never done it with just a girl; it's
always been with a guy around. No, I don't think that qualifies me as a
lesbian. Now can I get on with this footnote?)

The first time was at a girlfriend's apartment. There were seven guys (none
of whom I'd ever known biblically before) and four girls. I knew what I was
getting myself into, and I was an enthusiastic participant. In fact, I think
I was the first one there to have my panties off. In the course of the
evening, six of the guys had it in me, and I gave the seventh a blowjob
while I was getting it from behind. It lasted for at least five hours, and I
was the last one to leave. I couldn't sit down for three days, and I wanted
to do it again.

The girlfriend set up another good time a few weeks later. This time there
were nine guys and five girls. Five of the guys hadn't been at the previous
party. I made sure all of them got to me. I went over to her house for
similar escapades five or six times more, but only one new guy came to them.

I started dating one of the guys from the parties, and he invited me to go
deer hunting with him and three of his buddies that I'd never met before. I
had no illusions; my role was to be the concubine. There were three bedrooms
in the cottage, two with single beds, and one with a double bed. I claimed
the biggest one. The first evening got a little strange - I don't think the
guys knew where to begin. So I set up a nickel-dime-quarter poker game, and
told them the whoever won $10 could be my first guy. While they were
playing, I went in and put on a negligee. Finally, one of the guys cleaned
up a big pot and we went into my room together. He shut the door and we
started to go at it. It didn't take long, I was ready and he sure was. I
made a lot of noise so that the party would be sure to think about what was
happening. After 15 minutes or so, I shoved him out the door, went into the
bathroom and cleaned up, and then put a bra and panties on. When I came out,
I chose the next guy and we did it all over again. I made sure my
'boyfriend' was last, and he slept with me. The next night I told them I was
tired of this one guy at a time thing and put some music on. Two of the guys
started dancing with me and I let them strip me. Before you know it, I'm
straddling one guy who's got it in my pussy, another's trying to shove it up
my ass, I'm giving one a blow job and the last guy is getting a hand job
just 'cause there's no place left for him to put it. It was a good,
old-fashioned gang bang and I loved it.

I never minded group sex as long as there was no S/M, and I felt like I was
in control. If a guy started to hurt me, I just picked up and moved on; a
scene like that can get crazy too easy, and you can get hurt.

Finally, I got tired of the group sex thing, and decided that romance was
more my style. So I just stopped going to my girlfriend's bacchanalias.
Satisfied?

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
| alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: <ckought69@hotmail.com> |
| FAQ: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/faq.html>  Moderator: <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
|Archive: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org> Hosted by Alt.Sex.Stories Text Repository |
|<http://www.asstr-mirror.org>, an entity supported entirely by donations.         |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+