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Message-ID: <33572asstr$1006261805@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Margery Pinchwife <mpinchwife@yahoo.com>
Reply-To: mpinchwife@yahoo.com
Subject: {ASSM} TAKING THE LEAD Margery P. {MMF wife mdom? cons}
Date: Tue, 20 Nov 2001 08:10:05 -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





<1st attachment, "mpttlead.txt" begin>

                TAKING THE LEAD

         "I just don't know what to do."

         I was confiding in Sally, who is a person I would not
 normally confide in.  I tend to keep things to myself,
 especially things of this nature.  However, we had
 gone for a walk that morning to get a little exercise
 and not five minutes into it Sally had commented that
 I seemed distracted and a little depressed.

         "I guess I am."

         "Would you like to talk about it?"  Sally trotted out
 the cliche.

         I didn't respond at first.  We walked for a little
 while.  Finally I broke the silence.

         "Who takes the lead when you and Stan have sex?"

         Sally looked a little nonplused, whether at the
 apparent change in subject or at the question itself I
 couldn't tell.  But Sally is never at a loss for words
 for very long.  She eventually answered me in the same
 tone as if I had asked who does the cooking.

         "It varies.  Sometimes it's Stan, sometime me.  I
 guess overall it's probably about fifty-fifty."  She
 didn't ask the obvious question.

         We walked a bit more without speaking, Sally knowing
 that eventually the lull in conversation would get to
 me.  And it did.

         "Frank keeps after me to take the lead sometime.  He
 says I never initiate sex, that I always wait for him
 to do it and then go along with whatever he wants to
 do.  He wants me to surprise him sometime, to decide
 where and when and how and in what position."  I
 paused a little while I thought about it.  "And he's
 really right.  I do prefer for him to be the
 aggressor.  I always have."

         "You mean in all the years you two have been married
 you never initiated sex, never decided what games to
 play?"  Sally seemed genuinely surprised.

         "I guess when I first started sex I was afraid of
 being rejected, afraid that I might do something that
 would turn my date off, maybe even disgust him.  So I
 just got in the habit of being the passive partner.
 Old habits tend not to die.  I mean a couple of times
 when I was really horny I'd come to Frank in just a
 bathrobe or in a tight tee shirt without a bra and
 hint around.  But even then, once he got the hint (if
 he did) I'd expect him to take the lead.  I'm just
 more comfortable that way."

         "And there's nothing you've wanted to do that Frank
 doesn't do?  Nothing new you've ever wanted to try?"

         "Not really.  And now, after all this time, he wants
 me to behave differently, to take the lead, be the
 aggressor.  He says it would make it more exciting.
 But I have no idea what I'm supposed to do."  We
 stopped walking and stood there.

         "Well, is there really nothing you'd like to do?
 Think about it.  Nothing that you imagine might be
 fun?"

         "I have thought about it.  I've been thinking about
 it for days.  And I've come up with absolutely
 nothing.  I'm not a sadist, I'm not going to start
 whipping him.  I don't want sex in the toilet of an
 airplane.  Or while swinging from a trapeze."  I was
 almost crying now.  "I just don't know what to do."

         We started walking again.

         "Well, ok.  What does he want?"

         "What do you mean?"

         "Hasn't he ever hinted at doing something.  Ever
 expressed some fantasy?"

         I thought about it and finally came up with an
 admission.  "I guess from time to time he's hinted
 that he'd like me to tie him down and, as he puts it,
 have my way with him.  I'd do it but first of all I
 haven't a clue how to tie him down without hurting
 him.  I mean he's not a package.  Ropes would hurt and
 if I hurt him he'd get mad at me and there would go
 our fun.  Should I use my best scarves?  I'd be
 worrying about the scarves.  And anyway how would I
 tie him?"

         "Well,..." Sally started to answer, but I interrupted
 her.  "And then what would I do?  I think I have my
 way every time we have sex as it is.  I like to feel
 his arms around me.  I like to lie there while he
 fondles me.  So what am I supposed to do when he's
 tied down?"

         "Let's take one thing at a time.  Tying him down is
 easy.  You get some handcuffs and attach his wrists to
 the bed."

         "Wouldn't that hurt?"

         "Not if you get the right cuffs.  They sell padded
 cuffs that you attach with velcro and with chains that
 you can easily hook around the bed."

         I couldn't resist asking.  "How do you know about
 that?"

         "There's an elegant sex-clothing store a few doors
 down from where I get my hair done.  I pass by it all
 the time.  There's nothing outrageous in the window,
 but one time one of the other girls and I decided to
 go in on a lark.  You wouldn't believe the stuff they
 had on display inside.  Believe me, you'll have no
 trouble getting the kind of cuffs you want there.  And
 anything else you might want."

         "I could never go into a place like that, let alone
 buy something."

         "We'll go together.  We can pretend we're buying a
 joke wedding present for a couple who have been living
 together.  It'll be fun."

         I really didn't like the idea, but couldn't think of
 a good response.  "Even if we did, I still wouldn't
 know what to do with a tied-down husband."

         "Ok, let's think about that."  We had completed our
 planned walk but just continued on, starting on a
 second circuit.  "Has Frank ever told you about any
 fantasies?  Ever shared his secret imaginings with
 you?"

         "I can't think of any.  Well, maybe.  No.  Yes.
 There is one thing."  I wasn't sure I wanted to share
 this with Sally.

         "What?  Come on.  Is it that bizarre?"

         "Sort of."  I hesitated and then gave up.
 "Sometimes, when we're making love, he likes to
 pretend that he's watching me having sex with another
 man.  You know, that he's standing in the doorway,
 watching us, and getting all excited."  I was blushing
 like mad as I said this.

         "Well it's simple, then.  You cuff him to his side of
 the bed and fuck your lover on your side."  She gave
 me a big grin, knowing full well I had no lover and
 wasn't about to get one.

         "The only problem, then, would be which of my 14
 lovers to use.  Come on.  Be serious."

         We continued walking, each of us deep in our own
 thoughts.

         Suddenly she stopped.  "That's it.  Of course.  He'd
 be perfect.  I know exactly what you should do.
 Andre.  I should have thought of him before."

         "What are you talking about.  Who'd be perfect.
 Who's this Andre?  I'm not about to have sex with any
 Andre."

         "Andre Renault is an old friend of the family.  When
 we were kids, he used to hang around with my youngest
 brother.  Naturally, all my other brothers would pick
 on the two of them, and since I was the oldest and the
 only girl it was pretty much my job to protect the
 little ones.  So Andre used to come to me for help.
 As we got older, he got in the habit of coming to me
 with his problems.  He still calls me from time to
 time to ask for advice or just to confide in me.  He's
 a wonderful guy and would be the perfect solution for
 you."

         "I don't care how wonderful he is, I'm not having sex
 with your Andre whosis."

         "Not sex, silly.  Andre is a licensed masseur.  You
 could tie Frank to his side of the bed and then Andre
 could come in and give you a massage on your side
 while Frank watched."

         "Wouldn't that be boring, watching some guy give me a
 massage?"  I was a little dense.

         "Do you think so?  A NUDE massage?"

         "Oh.  Nude.  That's different."  I began to imagine
 what it would be like for Frank to be tied down,
 watching his naked wife getting massaged by some
 strange man.  Maybe that WOULD be exciting.  At least
 for me.  But how would Frank take it?  Maybe he'd be
 excited or maybe he'd just get mad.  "Look, I don't
 know...  And would this Andre guy behave himself.  I
 mean Frank would be tied down so he couldn't protect
 me if your Andre began to get ideas"

         "Andre won't 'get ideas.'  He's a professional and a
 thoroughly decent guy.  Believe me.  I know him.  I'll
 call him when I get home and discuss it with him."
 Sally went on,  ignoring my continued hesitations.  "I
 can be candid with him.  I'll see what he thinks and
 if he's willing, we can go get your handcuffs.  Are
 you free tomorrow afternoon?"

         "Yes, but I'm not so sure about this.  I really..."

         "Don't worry.  It'll all work out great.  You and
 Frank are going to have a lot of fun."  We had
 completed the second circuit of our walk.  "I'll call
 you tomorrow morning."

         She left me there, unable to voice my objections.  It
 was ironic, I thought, that here I was trying to find
 a way to take the lead and I was just following
 Sally's lead.  I had major reservations about this
 whole thing and was sorry now that I had confided in
 her.

         I didn't sleep much that night.  I kept deciding that
 I would tell Sally to forget the whole thing and then
 I'd start imagining what it would be like to be lying
 naked with a strange man massaging me while Frank lay
 next to me, watching but restrained.  Maybe it would
 be fun.  But then I'd think that no, I couldn't do
 that.  My mind kept oscillating and I kept tossing and
 turning, pretty much all night.

         When Sally called the next morning I was all set to
 tell her to forget the whole thing but she was so
 bubbling over with excitement that I could scarcely
 get a word in.  "I spoke to Andre and he'd be
 delighted to help out.  He'd just charge you for a
 regular massage even though doing it on a bed instead
 of his table is hard on his back.  He even suggested
 that you have a code word or phrase you could use any
 time you wanted him to stop and leave.  We just have
 to call him to set up the date and code word.  And
 even better.  I called the hair dresser and Charles
 can take you this afternoon at two.  I made the
 appointment because you keep saying you'd like to try
 him sometime and you're due for a cut now.  We can get
 your handcuffs after Charles is finished with you."

         It was certainly true that I was overdue for a cut.
 I'd been putting off getting my hair cut while I
 fretted about Frank's request and I had wanted to try
 Charles because I liked what he did for Sally.  Oh,
 well, I thought, at least I'll get my hair cut.  And I
 can always refuse to go handcuff shopping afterwards.

         Charles actually did a wonderful job on my hair.  I
 told him what I wanted and he knew exactly what to do.
  It came out even better than I had hoped.  I was so
 pleased with Sally for making the appointment, and for
 going with me and waiting while Charles worked on me,
 that I couldn't bring myself to disappoint her when
 she was ready to go handcuff shopping.  After all, I
 didn't actually have to use them.

         It was the kind of store I was embarrassed even to
 look at.  The window was filled with outlandish
 suggestive leather outfits.  I went in with Sally
 quickly because I didn't want anyone to see me window
 shopping there.  Inside was even worse.  Manikins and
 walls covered with leather, plastic, and rubber
 outfits designed to emphasize and/or display sexual
 organs.  Whips and chains everywhere.  A whole display
 unit filled with replica penises ranging in size from
 normal human to normal horse, in a variety of colors,
 with a variety of devices attached to them.

         A very pleasant looking gray-haired grandmotherly
 lady asked if we needed any help.  Sally told her what
 we were looking for and the lady took us to a counter
 where she offered us a range of handcuffs.  Sally
 insisted on examining several of them and finally
 recommended one set.  It consisted of a pad that you
 wrapped around the wrist with velcro to secure it and
 a chain with a hook on so you could attach the cuffs
 to each other or to the bed or whatever you wanted.  I
 quickly agreed to buy a pair so we could get out of
 the store.

         "Why not buy two?" Sally said.  "One for the arms and
 one for the legs."

         "Ok," I agreed, not wanting to delay our departure.
 By then I would have agreed to anything to get out of
 the place.  I paid in cash, not wanting them to see my
 name on a credit card, and we left with my purchase in
 a plain paper bag.  I felt terribly evil and we wound
 up giggling all the way home about my reaction to the
 store and about some of the paraphernalia we saw
 there.

         When we got home, Sally wanted me to pick a date so
 we could call Andre.  I resisted.

         "I really need some time to think about this."

         "Oh, no you don't.  If you start thinking, you're
 going to find some excuse to chicken out and then
 you'll be right back to where you started with an
 unhappy husband and all kinds of guilt feelings.
 You've got to do this now, quickly.  Once you've
 committed yourself you'll have a wonderful time.  And
 so will Frank."

         She kept at me, so finally I told her that the best
 time would be Frank's birthday in a couple of weeks.
 He always came home early on his birthday so we'd have
 time to do something - either go out or I'd cook up
 some elaborate dinner or something, and of course have
 a little sex.  Sally immediately called Andre and gave
 him the day and time.  He said he could make it and
 Sally gave me the phone to give him directions to my
 house.

         He had a lovely voice, soft and a little husky.  I
 told him how to get here.  He gave me his cell phone
 number and suggested that he wait in his car a block
 or two away and that I call him when I was ready.
 That way he could show up exactly when I wanted him
 to.  He also suggested that, whenever I wanted him to
 stop and leave, I say "Thank you, Andre."  To ensure
 that I didn't say that unthinkingly, he'd say "Is
 there anything else I can do for you?" and I'd respond
 "No, thanks."

         And it was all set.

         What had I got myself into?  Had I crossed some sort
 of Rubicon?  Was I really going to go through with
 this?  The next couple of weeks were agony for me.  I
 spent half my time deciding on exactly what I would
 wear, how I would arrange things, making sure that
 Frank would be home on time, and spent the other half
 trying to think of ways to call it off.  I could call
 up Andre and offer to pay him anyway.  But then I'd
 have to put up with Sally.  She'd never let me hear
 the end of it.  And besides, I'd still have to figure
 out what to do about Frank.

         I finally decided that this would be as good as
 anything, that the worst that would come of it would
 be total embarrassment for me, and that the die was
 pretty much cast.

         On Frank's birthday, I gave him his present at
 breakfast (an electric shaver he'd been wanting) and
 spent the morning straightening up the house,
 attaching the handcuffs, and generally getting the
 place ready.  I had a small, early lunch, most of
 which I couldn't eat, and then got myself ready.  I
 took a long shower and spent a lot of time fussing
 with my hair.  Of course, I wanted to look alluring
 for Frank, but I also felt some obligation to look
 nice for Andre.

         Finally, it was time for Frank to come home.  When I
 heard him drive up, I hid behind the door he would
 come in.  I was wearing only my terry cloth robe and I
 was holding one of those blindfolds they give you on
 overnight flights to let you sleep when others have
 their lights on.

         When Frank came in, I grabbed him from behind and
 slipped the blindfold on.  I had, of course, forgotten
 about his glasses and almost dropped them in the
 process, but eventually managed to get them safely out
 of the way and the blindfold securely in place.  He
 started to ask what's going on, but I put my hand over
 his mouth and said "Sssh," and he quickly got the idea
 that he wasn't supposed to say anything.

         I led him into the bedroom and stripped him.  He
 started to say something again, like "This is a lovely
 surprise" or something like that, but I again wouldn't
 let him talk.  Then I had him lie down on his side of
 the bed.  When I attached the first hand cuff I had to
 sssh him again.  It was clear that I had really
 surprised him.  I could tell that he liked it because
 I could see his penis growing erect as I attached his
 other arm and then his legs.  The chains were a little
 slack so I had to go back and adjust each one, pulling
 it tight.  By the time I had everything adjusted, he
 was fully erect.

         I toyed with him a while, running my fingers over his
 chest and down the inside of his thighs.  So far, I
 felt, this was a success with him.

         Now it was time for the next step, which could very
 well ruin everything.  I picked up the phone and
 dialed Andre.  He answered on the first ring.  I said,
 simply, "I'm ready now."  He said he'd be there in
 minutes.

         When I hung up, I took the blindfold off Frank.  I
 could see the quizzical expression in his eyes, but he
 knew by now that he wasn't supposed to say anything.
 I spent the next few minutes playing with him.  I
 pinched his nipples, ran the tip of my fingernail up
 and down his erection, pulled on his balls, gently
 stroked his asshole, anything I could think of to keep
 him excited with going too far.

         When the doorbell rang a few minutes later, I could
 see the question in Frank's eyes.

         "That's be Andre, the masseur."

         Frank's eyes widened.  In confusion?  excitement?
 fear? or some combination?  I had to wonder as I went
 to answer the door, my own heart pounding.

         I pulled my robe tight around me.  I was expecting it
 to be Andre, but it could just as well be a couple of
 people who wanted to discuss the bible.  I opened the
 door.

         "I'm Andre."

         He was a pleasant looking man, maybe around ten years
 younger than me, dressed completely in white, a white
 tee shirt and tight white pants, which revealed a
 well-kept body.  He had a full head of dark brown hair
 that hung to his shoulders, like Prince Valiant.  He
 carried a bag of what I assumed was massage equipment,
 whatever that might be.

         I let him in, locked the door, and handed him an
 envelop in which I had put his money.  He slipped it
 into his bag without even looking in it and followed
 me to the bedroom.

         Frank had the same wide-eyed look, possibly even
 wider than before, when we entered.  This was it, now.
  I had to go through with it.  I only hoped he
 wouldn't be upset.  I felt the adrenalin racing
 through my body.  I stood between Andre and Frank,
 facing Frank, and let my robe fall off.  Then, perhaps
 too quickly, I lay down on the bed on my stomach, my
 eyes glued to Frank, looking for any signs of trouble.

         Here I was, completely naked before a strange man, my
 husband manacled to the bed beside me.  I could
 imagine all kinds of reactions that he might have,
 most of them not good.  But what I saw in his eyes was
 excitement and a glance at his pulsing erection
 confirmed that.

         In the meantime, Andre, who was unfazed by seeing my
 naked husband tied down, must have been getting his
 things ready, because the next thing I felt was some
 oil on my back and soothing hands beginning to rub it
 in.  It was immediately clear that this wasn't the
 amateurish gropings of my husband, this was a
 professional who knew what he was doing.  My tense
 muscles began to relax as his talented fingers prodded
 and kneaded them.

         He massaged slowly across my shoulders and then down
 each arm to my fingertips and back up again.  Then he
 worked on my back.  While his actions soothed and
 relaxed my muscles, my husband's eyes, which followed
 every motion of Andre, kept me in a state of tension.


         Finishing my back at my waist, Andre began with my
 feet, working his way first up one calf and then up
 the other.  When he began on the backs of my thighs
 and I saw the reaction in my husband's eyes, I could
 feel the sexual tension mounting.  There was no doubt
 that this was exciting Frank, nor that I was getting
 excited myself.  For the first time, I became
 conscious of my own arousal as well as of Frank's.

         Andre worked his way up my thighs, mostly on their
 backs but every once in a while his fingers would prod
 on my inner thighs, moving higher and higher up my
 legs.  He spent a fair amount of time on my thighs,
 gently easing them apart as he worked upward, but
 eventually he left off my inner thighs before he went
 too far, somewhat to my disappointment, and began
 massaging my buttocks.  I could see Frank's intense
 interest as Andre pressed down on them with his palms
 and then in a circular motion began to knead them, at
 times spreading them wide apart.

         It felt as if there were a direct line of sight from
 my eyes to Frank's to Andre's and finally down to my
 exposed asshole, as if we were all looking at it.  I
 was blatently exposed and could feel quivers of
 excitement building in me.  Then Andre stopped.

         "Turn over, please."

         As I automatically followed his instructions, I
 realized that I was now even more completely exposed.
 Lying on my back, I could see the excitement in
 Frank's eyes as his wife lay naked, at the disposal of
 a stranger.  All this time he had said nothing, just
 looked.  Now I could see his breathing deepening, his
 mouth slightly opening, his chest rising and falling,
 his erection throbbing with his pulse.  I could feel
 my nipples hardening and the butterflies flapping
 wildly in my stomach.

         "It's rather warm here.  Is it ok?"  Andre gestured
 that he wanted to remove his tee-shirt.  I managed to
 give an assenting nod as he pulled it over his head.

         So far, his massage was carefully innocent.  Bare
 chested now, he did the front of my shoulders and
 necks, avoided my breasts and abdomen, and worked the
 tops my thighs.  Now his hand spent more time on the
 insides of my thighs, pushing them apart and working
 up to but just short of my vagina, which was now
 exposed and clearly visible to him.  I willed him to
 keep going.

         But he stopped and stood there looking at me.  He
 seemed to be examining my body, an examination that
 made my nipples grow even harder.  I glanced back and
 forth between him and Frank and saw a similar tension
 in both sets of eyes.  Andre's eyes caught mine and
 held them.  He seemed to be waiting for me to give the
 code words, to tell him to go.

         I said nothing.  Ironically, even as I took the lead
 with Frank, I could only respond passively to Andre.

         Without a word, Andre unbuttoned his tight white
 pants and took them off, leaving him in nothing but
 his red jockey shorts that clearly revealed the
 presence of his penis.  Then he put his hands on my
 breasts.

         Almost in fear, as I felt the thrill of these strange
 and wonderful hands on my breasts, I looked at Frank.
 He said not a word and I could see the excitement
 building to a higher pitch in him, his eyes riveted on
 Andre's hands fondling my breasts.

         He cupped my breasts, pushing them up towards the
 nipples, sliding his hands around them, coming closer
 and closer to the nipples without yet touching them.
 I hadn't felt this kind of excitement since the first
 time a boy put his hand in my bra.  It was a new kind
 of excitement, heightened by the consciousness that my
 husband was watching, his silence assenting, even
 urging on another man fondling his wife's breasts.  We
 were all breathing a little heavily now.  I could feel
 my heart pounding as I eagerly awaited the moment
 Andre would reach my nipples.

         It was as if an electric pulse was shot through me
 when he began to roll my nipple between his thumb and
 forefinger.  Frank had done this a million times, but
 feeling another man do it, do it while my husband lay
 naked and manacled watching, was something new,
 different, thrilling and exciting beyond words.

         And then I felt his other hand resting on my pubic
 hair, pressing on my clit, sliding between my legs,
 his finger gently caressing my labia.  Instinctively,
 I spread my legs yet further apart to give him better
 access.  Frank's eyes watched greedily, following
 every touch, every stroke, every motion of this
 stranger's fingers that now had delved into my vagina.
  His fingers slid in easy, aided by the lubricant that
 I was so copiously supplying.  His thumb provided a
 circular pressure on my clit.  I could feel the
 pressure of Frank's eyes as he struggle to get a
 better view of his wife being finger-fucked by another
 man.

         Once again, at what seemed the highest pitch of my
 excitement, Andre stopped.  This time he stepped out
 of his jockeys.  His penis was in the semi-erect
 stage, full but not entirely risen yet.  Without
 thinking, I reached out to assist it in its rise.  As
 I wrapped my fingers around that penis, I became
 acutely aware on the most basic, sensory level that it
 was not my husband's.  It was thicker than what I was
 used to, it felt different from the only one I had
 touched in decades.  While I of course was aware all
 along that someone other than my husband was running
 his hands all over my body, it was only at this moment
 that I fully realized at the rawest primitive level
 that I had a strange cock in my hands.

         Surely now Frank would try to put a stop to this.
 Surely he would say something.  But when I looked at
 him, when I caught his eyes and we stared at each
 other, all I could see was the same thrill, the same
 tension, the same heightened excitement that I felt
 myself.  Something was about to happen and neither of
 us wanted to stop it.

         Andre was now kneeling between my legs, his hands
 pressing my thighs apart, his lips caressing my labia.
  His tongue gently licked their edges and then began
 invading the space between them.  I pressed my pelvis
 up, trying to pull his tongue deep into my vagina.
 His tongue was as talented as his hands, stroking me,
 teasing me, sliding in and out of me, while his thumb
 resumed its attention to my clit.

         I did not expect what came next.  Andre suddenly lay
 down on his back and, with no apparent effort, pulled
 me on top of him so that I was sitting with the tip of
 his cock just nuzzling the opening of my cunt, just
 sliding along the inner edges of my cuntlips.  He held
 me there, staring into my eyes and then looking toward
 Frank, as if asking for permission.

         I looked at my husband, naked and bound, his cock
 straining upward, his eyes eagerly glued to my crotch.
   Andre and I stayed in that state of suspended
 animation.  It took Frank a moment or two to realize
 we were waiting.  Then, for the first time, he said
 something.  It came out at first as a choked croak.
 But then he repeated it, loud and clear.

         "Yes!  Do it!  Put it in!  Fuck him!  Fuck that cock!
  Put that fat prick up your cunt!"

         I began to slide down on Andre's cock.  It stretched
 me, pushing on the sides of my cunt, stretching them
 more and more as it penetrated further and further.

         "Put it all the way in!   Fuck it!"

         I wanted it all in me.  I wanted it to fill me.  I
 pressed down as Andre slid up and down into me, going
 further in with each stroke.  I wasn't going to last
 long.  I took his whole cock in, raising and lowering
 my ass to meet his thrusts.

         "Yes!  Hump that ass!  Fuck that prick!  Oh, yes!"

         We were all breathing faster.  My tits were swinging
 back and forth as I humped my ass up and down, feeling
 that fat cock filling my cunt.  I started coming.  Oh,
 God!  And coming.  And coming.

         "Yes!  Yes!  Yes!"

         Andre pulled me down on him, squeezing my tits
 tightly against his chest.  He gave one last upward
 thrust, pushing his prick in as deep as he could, and
 with a loud gasp began to pump his semen into me.

         I lay there on him, feeling the after-tremors of both
 our orgasms, and hearing my husband's "Yes!  Yes.
 yes." getting softer and slower and then gently fading
 out.

         I rolled off Andre, toward Frank, and managed to
 hoarsely say the code words.  "Thank you, Andre."  And
 then I ad libbed, "Thank you very, very much."

         "Is there anything else I can do for you?" he asked.

         "No, thanks.  But thank you very, very much."

         Almost instantly he was off the bed, had picked up
 his things and was out of the bedroom.  He must have
 stopped long enough to get dressed, but it seemed
 barely seconds before I heard the front door open and
 close.

         I turned to my husband.  His erection, still achingly
 pointing skyward, reminded me that he hadn't got any
 relief yet.  I released his hand from the cuffs and
 then climbed over him, my mouth grasping that so far
 untouched prick, my knees straddling his shoulders so
 that he could see my just fucked cunt, could see
 Andre's semen that I felt oozing out of it.

         As I alternated, sliding my tongue around his cock
 and sucking up and down on it, I felt his arms pulling
 my ass down so that his mouth reached my cunt.  He
 began licking it at the same time that I felt him
 coming in my mouth.  He was forming a complete cycle,
 sucking Andre's come out of me while he replaced it
 with his own.  For the first time in my life, I
 eagerly swallowed his come, gulping it down, licking
 up every drop.

         We lay there exhausted, his prick slowly softening in
 my mouth.  I summoned up enough strength to release
 his legs from their cuffs, then turned around and lay
 down beside him.  We kissed, both our lips sticky with
 semen, exchanging the semen with our tongues..

         "Happy birthday," I whispered in his ear.

         He took a moment, then in a voice again hoarse, said,
 "That was.... that  was.... unbelievable!"

                                 THE END

Please write to me at    mpinchwife@yahoo.com
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