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From: Richard Short <shattims@yahoo.com>
X-ASSTR-Original-Date: Fri, 11 Jul 2003 01:52:32 -0700 (PDT)
Subject: {ASSM} Honey-Do Exchange {shattims} (MF fat mast swap)
Date: Fri, 11 Jul 2003 07:10:02 -0400
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<1st attachment, "HoneyDoXchange.txt" begin>
Honey-Do Exchange
by SHATTIMS
June was giggling on the phone in the next room. 'She must be talking
to Betty,' I thought.
Betty is my wife's best friend. They make a rather odd pair,
actually; in many ways they are about as unlike each other as you
could imagine. My June is quiet, almost mousy, while Betty is
outgoing and loud. June is a number of years on the far side of 50
(she won't let me say how many), and Betty is probably about the same
number of years in front of that milestone (though that's just a
guess on my part). But June has taken very good care of herself,
while Betty has let herself go.
To put it politely, Betty is more than a bit plump. No, I take that
back. I'm going to tell it like it is here. Betty is grossly
overweight. She has huge rolls of fat that bounce up and down as she
waddles across a room. I swear her waist line must be at least 80
inches. June's waistline has swelled a bit over the years, but at 29
inches it still sets off her large (36-D) breasts very nicely.
Betty's breasts, such as they are, are hardly detectable among all
the other fatty bulges on her body.
Their husbands (that's Tom and me) are also quite a contrast. I've
worked at a desk all my life, while Tom has worked outdoors with his
hands. That difference in lifestyles is reflected in our bodies. My
pale skin is wrapped around a body that weighs more than twice June's
135 pounds, while it's a safe guess that Tom's tanned muscular frame
weighs less than half his wife's. I try to tell myself I'm not really
fat, and it's true that I'm much trimmer than someone like Betty, but
I have to admit my waistline is an unseemly 52 inches. Tom's is
probably somewhere around 32 inches.
But back to that phone conversation ...
I usually don't pay much attention to June's phone calls, but it was
nice to hear her laugh, and I was curious as to what might have
tickled her so much. I didn't find out, though, because at that point
her voice turned more serious.
"You mean to say he just sat there? After you explained nicely what
you needed?"
...
"Bob's the same way. Maybe all men are like that. Or did we just pick
the wrong ones?"
...
"Well, yes, once in a while Bob does a few things, too, but usually
only at his mother's house. He hasn't really done anything around
here for years."
...
"OK, OK, you're right. I agree, he did a great job on our deck, but
that was two years ago. Betty, do you know that he started rebuilding
our back fence last fall? That was, what, nine months ago, and he
still hasn't finished it!"
...
"Yeah, I think you're right, that's the only way it'll ever get
finished. What was that ad I saw a while back? 'Rent a husband,' I
think it was. Maybe that's what I need."
...
"Betty! Shame on you! I didn't mean that way. 'Rent a husband' was
just a handyman that would do all the things around the house that
your husband should do, but never seems to get around to."
...
"That's crazy! I don't know about Tom, but do you think Bob would
work any harder at your house than he does here?"
...
"Well, yes, you've got a point. They do both seem to get things done
at someone else's house. I guess maybe we could try it and see if it
works." June giggled again. "I know, we could call it 'Swap a
husband.'"
Me and my dirty mind. That was enough to push me off into my own
fantasies, and I have no idea what they said after that. True, I
don't consider Betty a bit attractive, with all that blubber, but
hell, I hadn't had any sex for ages, and even Betty would be better
than nothing.
I guess I should explain. When I say "no sex for ages" I mean
literally not for several years. It seems that June finds my weight
even more repulsive than I find Betty's. She usually won't even let
me touch her, let alone get intimate. And I'm not talking about
intimate touches, either. If I try to reach out and touch her arm,
she'll cringe and move away.
So, you ask, why haven't I gone somewhere else to get some nookie? To
tell you the truth, I ask myself that question all the time, and I
don't know the answer. Call it an overdose of commitment, or maybe a
fear that anybody else I turned to would be as repelled as June is,
or maybe I'm just afraid of hurting June. Whatever the reason is,
I've been faithful all this time, unless you count the nearly daily
fantasies I have as I get myself off.
I've fantasized about nearly every woman I know, and now, much to my
surprise, I found myself starting to fantasize about Betty. Hell,
with her weight it's a good bet that Tom finds her very repulsive. It
could very well be that they're not getting any more sex together
than June and I are. And while Tom may be going elsewhere, Betty
would probably have at least as much trouble as I would in finding an
extramarital partner.
So in my fantasy she is dying to have sex with someone, anyone. She's
so horny that if we were to be alone together at her house she would
be climbing all over me and ripping my clothes off! What man could
resist a fantasy like that?
It took June a couple of days to work up the courage to mention their
scheme to me. Naturally, she had no idea that I had overheard their
conversation, so I tried to look puzzled and then incredulous, but
finally shrugged and said "Whatever." It's a good thing she couldn't
read my mind, or sense the tension in my belly, not to mention other
parts of my anatomy.
After some calls between the two friends, interspersed with husbands'
conferences, it was finally all arranged. I would drive over to
Betty's house at 10 AM a week from Saturday, and at the same time Tom
would drive over to our house. We'd stay until 3. The only pay we'd
get would be lunch and the knowledge that our own honey-do lists
would be shorter when we got home.
June was quite adamant on that "only" point. "No fringe benefits,"
she said, glaring at me.
Finally the day arrived, and I drove over to see what Betty had
planned for me. No, she didn't rip my clothes off. Instead she
started in the kitchen with a cabinet door that was sticking, and
another that wouldn't stay closed. Then there was a window that was
hard to lock, and several windows that needed washing.
You may remember that I hinted earlier that I weigh well over 250
pounds. When I add that I'm only 5' 7" and remind you that I have a
very sedentary job, you can appreciate that by this time I was
pooped, and my legs and feet were killing me. I kept going as long as
I could, but then told Betty I needed a break.
She allowed as how it was about lunch time, anyway, and suggested
that I lie down on the sofa while she fixed me a sandwich. I told her
that at the moment all I wanted was a big glass of water and a chance
to put my feet up.
She went for the water and I went for the sofa, and when she brought
the glass she found me flat on my back with my shoes kicked off and
my feet up on the sofa's arm rest. "I hope you don't mind," I said.
"No" she giggled. (She giggles a lot; I guess that's why June ends up
giggling when they talk on the phone.) "I sometimes get mad at Tom
when he does that, but he never takes his shoes off first."
"Oh, no, I didn't think. Do my socks stink?"
"No, no, I'm glad you took your shoes off. With Tom I'm always
wondering what he may have stepped on, and imagining that it's going
to end up on the sofa."
After a pause she added "You know, June is always putting you down,
but I'm getting the feeling that you're really ... what's the word
I'm looking for? ... thoughtful, that's what."
I sat up so I could drink the water, and looked her straight in the
eyes. "Do you wanna know the truth? I really feel like I have to walk
on eggshells all the time around her. It's like I spend half my time
trying not to make her mad at me."
"Oh my god!" she exclaimed, her hand going to her mouth. "That's
exactly the way I feel with Tom."
She watched while I drank the whole glass of water, then said a bit
tentatively, "Bob ... I know how you must feel when you spend a lot of
time on your feet, because ... I know how standing makes me feel. And
I also realize you've done a lot of work this morning. Would you ...
I mean, I could, you know, like, rub your feet a bit, if you'd like
that."
"I'd love it," I sighed.
I lay back down with my head at the right end of the sofa, then
pulled my knees up so she could sit where my legs had been. I dropped
my calves onto her ample lap, and she began stroking and squeezing
one leg.
"Ooh! My muscle's so tight. Push my pants leg up so you can work on
it better. Ouch! No, don't stop. It hurts a bit, but it hurts so
good. You know what I mean? Yes! Like that."
She spent several minutes on each of my calf muscles, then slipped my
socks off and started working on my feet. It was fantastic! After
five minutes of that I felt like a new man.
"Betty, you were on your feet almost as much as I was this morning.
Wouldn't you like me to return the favor?"
"Would you? Oh, yes, I'd love to have you do it!"
I sat up, and Betty kicked her slippers off, pivoted around, and
dropped her feet in my lap. She sighed with satisfaction as she lay
back and was enveloped by the soft sofa cushions.
I started with the ball of her left foot and the tendons leading to
her toes; then gradually worked my way back to her arch and her heel.
When I started massaging her Achilles tendon she groaned and said "Oh
yeah! I needed that!"
I applied some real pressure there, which kept her moaning and asking
for more. I finally decided it was time to repeat the process with
the other foot, and she was equally appreciative of my efforts there.
Next I started squeezing one of her puffy swollen ankles with each
hand. That quickly had her writhing and moaning in pleasure/pain. She
was wearing a calf-length house dress, but by now her gyrations had
worked the hem up to her knees, giving me plenty of room to work
without appearing to invade her privacy. So I slipped my hands around
her shins and started kneading the bottom end of her calf muscles.
"Oh, god, YES!!" she screamed, and kept on with a mixture of whimpers
and quiet screams as I tried to work the knots out of her hot, tight,
muscles.
"Oh, please," she begged, "do what you're doing to the rest of my
calf!" So I kept moving my hands farther up.
By now she had pulled her knees up and spread them a bit, so I could
look right up inside her dress. But I first looked at her face to see
if she was watching me. Nope, she had her eyes squeezed tight shut
and her mouth open as she panted and squeaked and moaned. So I
chanced a quick peek to satisfy my curiosity. Not much to see,
actually. Her thighs were so heavily larded that even with her knees
apart I couldn't see anywhere close to where her panties presumably
were.
That should have been a real turnoff, but the combination of her
moans and the fantasies I'd been having about her conspired to give
me a prominent bulge in my pants that extended from my lap to my
belly button. They also conspired to move my hands, without me even
willing it, up to the backs of her knees.
That popped her eyes open, dropped her knees, and caused her to try
to smooth her dress back down where it belonged. "I think that's
enough of that," she said.
"Though," she added after a pause, "you could give me a little back
rub if you really wanted to."
"Sure." I said, wriggling out from under her feet, and moving down to
a kneeling position on the floor in front of the sofa. "Just roll
over." That turned out to be a much harder job than you would
suspect, due to the amount of blubber that had to be repositioned and
the relatively narrow space available for maneuvering, since at the
same time she had to avoid falling off the sofa and squashing me. But
at last there she was, with her huge ass pushed high in the air by
that monstrous accretion of fat around her belly.
I decided to start with her shoulders, and maybe in time work my way
up that ski slope toward her ass. As I started stroking and prodding
and squeezing the muscles around her neck and above her shoulder
blades, her moans (muffled now by her face poked deep into the sofa
cushion) told me she was enjoying this as much as she had the action
at the other end.
I tried hard not to overplay my hand this time. I worked my way very
slowly down (or should I say up?) her back, massaging every inch
thoroughly. But every inch I successfully navigated seemed to raise
my sexual tension a bit higher and make my hard-on a bit harder.
About the time I got to the small of her back, or at least where the
"small" should have been, she picked up her head and turned her face
toward me. I glanced away from my work area and saw her eyes widen.
It suddenly hit me -- she was staring directly at my crotch. I think
I turned as red as a beet, but I'm not sure, because she wasn't
looking at my face, and I sure as hell wasn't looking at my face
either.
I froze. My hands stopped moving; my eyes were locked on her face.
She froze too, with her mouth slightly open and her eyes like
saucers, apparently unable to turn her gaze away from that terribly
prominent bulge in my pants. Neither of us said a word for a very
long time. Finally, in a strangled voice, she croaked "There's a sash
tied at the back of my dress. Untie it."
She was wearing one of those wraparound dresses. Very practical, I
suppose, for someone whose huge waistline probably varied quite
significantly over time. I forced my hands to the bow, and pulled.
Nothing much happened immediately, but then she heaved her back up,
and the overlapping material across her back started to fall away.
"Now," she said with a bit of a quaver in her voice "you can give me
a real back rub. Let me feel your fingers instead of all that cloth
scraping against me."
The dress had pulled away enough to expose a deep vee of skin,
pointing away from her neck. I started there, and gradually worked my
way towards her now partly exposed bra strap. As I progressed I
pushed the material of her dress away in front of me, gradually
widening and deepening the vee.
Just as my fingers were approaching the bra strap, and I was starting
to think about jumping over it to continue my journey of exploration,
she said "Stop, Bob."
My heart sank. I figured this was the end of the line.
But then she said "In the bathroom, above the toilet, there's some
lotion on the counter. Get it and bring it here." I jumped to comply,
my heart fluttering.
When I got back she was still lying in the same position, but there
was one obvious change. Her dress was now pulled apart so far that I
could almost see where the top of her panties should be, but that
wasn't the obvious part. What I noticed immediately was what I didn't
see -- her entire back was bared, with no sign of the bra strap.
"Get some of that lotion on your hands and start rubbing it into me"
she ordered.
My thought exactly. I started where I had left off, rubbing lotion
into the skin where her bra strap had been. At first I kept both
hands moving in little circles close to her backbone, but I gradually
made the circles larger and moved them out, until my hands slipped
under the dress material and around the curve of her rib cage. Still
her eyes kept staring at my pants. I was so horny by now that my cock
was jerking in its cloth prison, and still she watched.
I slid my hands around farther, searching for her breasts, but she
said "No, don't."
So I brought them back up, applied some more lotion, and began
working my way farther down her spine. I kept pushing her dress out
of the way as I went, until I reached the point where the two sashes
that wrapped around her were sewn to the main part of the dress. Did
I dare? I tugged gently on one sash, and it slipped out from under
her. I tossed it aside, and began tugging on the other. It too was
soon freed and discarded. At that point her dress fell away to both
sides, and she was naked except for a huge pair of white panties.
As I was debating my next step, she croaked "Put some lotion on my
legs.
I began working at her knees, slathering the backs of them, and then
the lower part of the backs of her thighs, with lotion.
"Oh YES!" she moaned, and pulled her knees apart a ways. I moved my
hands to the upper part of her thighs, and started spreading the
lotion there.
"YES! YES!" she grunted, and the knees spread several inches farther
apart.
I slid my lotion-slimed hands down the outsides of her thighs. She
responded by spreading her knees as far apart as possible and pulling
them up under her, then demanding "I want lotion ALL over my legs." I
got the point, and started working my way up her left thigh, with my
left hand covering the outside and part of the front, while my right
hand explored her inner thigh.
"AH! AH! OH! OH! AH! AH!" Her ass was bucking in time with her
exclamations.
Meanwhile my hands kept moving higher and higher up her thigh. My
right hand was encountering some resistance now, from the flab of her
right thigh pressed against that of her left, despite her spread
knees. But still I kept squirming my hand higher and higher, and the
bucking and noise became more and more violent.
Finally my thumbs reached the edge of her panties, and the side of my
finger touched her steaming crotch. I nearly jerked it away. The
sensation was like dipping it into very hot water. I had never known
any woman to be so hot or so wet.
But my reaction was nothing compared with hers. She let out a primal
scream that I'm sure all the neighbors heard, and started jerking all
over. I could actually feel her pussy lips pulsing through the fabric
of her panties. I stopped moving my hands and just held my finger
against her pussy while she screamed and jerked.
She finally calmed down, and I started planning my next step, which
was going to be to worm my finger inside her panties. But before I
had a chance to put my plan into action, she suddenly pushed herself
up into a sitting position, sitting on her haunches with her back to
me. That forced my finger up to her ass, which I promptly started
stroking with my whole hand.
"Oh my god, what have I done?"
Her hand reached behind her to try to pull her dress into a more
modest position and push my hand away from her panties. "Oh, Bob, I'm
so ashamed of myself."
So that was that. There obviously wasn't going to be any more fun
today. I pushed myself away and got to my feet.
"Excuse me a minute," I said, starting to walk away. "I need to go to
the bathroom."
I closed the door, unzipped myself, and started pumping as I headed
for the toilet. I barely got the lid up before I was squirting like
crazy.
'Oh, shit' I thought, 'I got it all over the toilet seat.'
I cleaned up the mess as best I could with toilet paper and hoped she
wouldn't notice. Then I waited while my pecker slowly went down so I
could pee. I knew if I didn't I'd be leaking so badly that I'd soon
have a large and very obvious wet spot in the front of my pants.
She was in the kitchen by the time I came out. Her dress was properly
fastened again, and she was making me a sandwich.
"Do you like ham, and what kind of cheese would you like with it, if
any?"
I came over close to see what she was doing. The smell from her sex
was quite noticeable, but I tried to concentrate on the sandwich.
'White bread,' I thought, 'I never eat that, but I won't complain.'
"Yeah, ham is great. What kind of cheese do you have?"
"Velveta," (yuck!) "or Monterey Jack."
"I'll take Jack."
I wasn't sure how long we'd spent on the sofa, but my stomach was
definitely telling me it was time to eat. By the time she put the
sandwich, piled high with ham and cheese and produce, in front of me
I no longer cared about the white bread. She had an even thicker one
for herself, that included at least half a dozen slices of Velveta.
She also had a huge portion of potato salad for each of us. She
obviously had a giant appetite, and realized that I probably did too.
She offered me a beer, but we ended up with two tall glasses of milk.
As she turned to take the dishes to the sink, I finally snuck a look
at my watch. It was nearly two o'clock. "So what else do you have on
your list for me to do today?"
"There's a picnic table in the back yard, and its legs are loose.
Would you mind?"
"No problem," I assured her.
Rather than just nailing it, I drilled holes and cinched it up with
screws. That took longer, but I had the job done and the tools put
away a bit before three.
"Betty, can we talk for a minute before I leave?"
She flushed, but said, "Yes, I guess we should."
"I'm going to ask you a question."
I had this all planned out. I'd been putting the words together while
I worked on the picnic table.
"This is a very personal question, but I don't want you to answer it
right now. The question is, how long has it been since the last time
you and Tom made love? Don't answer that, but I'll tell you how long
it's been for June and I. It's been eight long years.
"I'm telling you this, and asking, because I know both of us are
having some strange feelings about what happened a while ago. But if
it's also been a long time for you, as I suspect it may have been,
then we really shouldn't blame ourselves so much. I mean, the desires
have just been building and building inside of us, whether we
realized it or not.
"And another thing. From the way you reacted today, I'm going to
guess that if it has been a long time for you, then you aren't the
one that called a halt to sex with Tom. And I know that I'm not the
one that called a halt to sex with June. So if I'm right, and if you
think about it, what we were doing wasn't really cheating at all.
Because we weren't cheating them out of anything they wanted.
"So don't say anything right now. Just think about what I've said.
And I hope we'll see each other again sometime." With that I walked
out of the door, climbed into my car, and drove home.
~~~~~~~~~~
I started wondering, on the way home, if Tom and June might have had
an interlude like Betty's and mine on the sofa. June is pretty
prudish, so it wasn't likely. But on the other hand, they are both
very attractive, and both have rather unattractive spouses, and they
did just spend five hours together by themselves in the privacy of
our home, so who knows? I decided to keep an eye out for any clues.
There was no unfamiliar car in the driveway or in front of our house
when I drove up, so I assumed Tom and I must have crossed paths going
home.
I opened the door with a cheery "Hi, hon, I'm home," but got no
response.
I found her in the kitchen washing dishes. I felt like sneaking up
behind her and giving her a hug, but I had learned in recent years to
suppress such urges. Any time I tried that kind of thing she would
just twist away with an accusatory "What are you doing?"
So, instead, I leaned against the counter a few feet away and said,
"Hi, hon, what did Tom manage to accomplish today?"
I swear I saw her flush at that, but she recovered quickly and said,
"Oh, mostly worked on that fence you never got around to finishing.
What did you do for Betty?"
"Just a bunch of odds and ends. Kitchen cabinets, windows, a wobbly
picnic table."
After a bit of silence I added "So now I guess you and Betty are
gonna conclude that your crazy scheme was a good idea."
"I don't know," she said very quietly. "I don't think we should try
it again."
"Oh? Did something go wrong?"
"No, no, nothing went wrong at all." She was clearly blushing now,
but hey, maybe it was just the hot dish water. ... Sure.
Changing the subject quickly, she said, "It's only 3:30. maybe you
could get some work done on the fence yourself."
"Sorry, I definitely feel like I've done more than enough work
already today. What I need to do now is relax, though the first thing
I need is a trip to the bathroom."
By now I was pretty well convinced there must have been some kind of
hanky panky between Tom and June, but what I saw when I got to the
bathroom made me twice as sure. The shower door was wet, and there
was a very wet pair of panties hanging on it. No, not sex wet, but
water wet. June has this odd habit occasionally of washing her
panties by wearing them into the shower, rubbing soap into them, then
taking them off and rinsing them before hanging them on the shower
door. But why, I wondered, did she feel she needed to take a shower
this afternoon before Tom left? And why did she think her panties,
put on clean that morning, needed to be washed?
I decided to make one more check for clues. The odds were good that
whatever she and Tom had done may have involved some time on the
sofa.
I told her (falsely) that when I got to Tom and Betty's house I
discovered that my pocket knife was missing. "Maybe it fell out of my
pocket in the recliner last night."
I pretended to search there, then shifted my search to the sofa.
BINGO! An earring.
I tracked June down in the laundry room. "Look what I found in the
sofa while I was trying to find my knife."
I held the earring up for her to see. Her eyes widened and her hand
went first to her right ear, then to her left. Sure enough, she was
wearing the mate in her right ear, but nothing at all in her left.
No flush this time. Instead, all of the blood drained from her face
leaving her white as a sheet.
"I .. I .. must have dropped it when I sat down to watch TV." she
finally stammered, grabbing the earring from me. "With Tom out
working on the fence, I decided to watch General Hospital."
Now she'd done it. That was an obvious lie, and she was clearly
trying to cover up for something. After all, this was Saturday, and
even I knew that General Hospital was a soap opera that wasn't
broadcast on Saturday. I also knew she'd never figured out how to
program the VCR, so she couldn't have been watching a tape. But I
decided not to press her any more on the matter right then. She'd
just get very defensive if I did, and besides, I needed some time to
work out my strategy.
So it wasn't until Sunday evening that I brought the subject up, very
obliquely. "June, I think I need to tell you something. Yesterday,
when I was helping Betty out, I got tired at one point."
I grinned at her as I added "You know how I like to take breaks while
I'm working. Well, anyway, I kicked off my shoes, laid down on their
sofa and put my feet up. Then Betty offered to rub my feet. That felt
really good, so then I offered to rub hers. It's not like we had sex,
or anything, but it was a sort of intimate moment between the two of
us. I just thought you should know, and I hope you don't mind too
much."
June was silent for a very long time. Finally she said "I forgive
you. And, Bob, I need to tell you something, too. I made up that
story about losing my earring while I was watching a soap opera. It
actually happened, I'm sure, when ... when ... Tom and I were on the
sofa together. I didn't want to admit it to you ... I didn't even
want to admit it to myself ... but we were sitting there together.
And, Bob," She was crying now, "we ... we weren't just rubbing each
other's feet. We were ... we were kissing! Oh Bob, how can you ever
forgive me!"
By now the tears were running down her face.
"I do forgive you, June, and it's partly because I wasn't just
rubbing Betty's feet, either. I also gave her a back rub, and I
rubbed her calf, and even her thigh."
Her eyes widened. "You did? Tom tried to rub my thigh but I wouldn't
let him. But while we were kissing he did ... oh god, I'm so ashamed,
... he started squeezing my breast through my blouse, and I didn't
stop him. Bob, ... I ... I was feeling like I wanted to make love,
... and I'm sure he wanted to make love, but we didn't, I swear we
didn't."
"Yes, yes, I know, Betty and I wanted to, too, and we didn't,
either."
There was another long pause, then I added, "June, you know why this
happened, don't you?"
"You mean because of our crazy scheme, as you called it yesterday? I
told you then that I didn't think we should do it again, and now you
know why."
"No, that's not what I'm talking about. I'm pretty sure the real
reason this happened is because of what's happened to us. I mean, you
and I don't seem to have anything left between us. Just think, June,
how long has it been since the last time we made love?"
I waited for her to answer, but her only answer was to look down and
bite her lip.
"You see, that's why we were both so weak."
I stared straight into her eyes as I added, "If we had a good sex
life ourselves I don't think either of us would have been tempted."
She averted her eyes. "I'm sorry, Bob, I just can't seem to feel that
way about you any more."
"Well, then, I'm afraid that sooner or later we're going to end up
with only two choices. Either we split up, or we accept that this
kind of thing is likely to happen."
I let that sit there and sink in for a while, then I went on, "Look,
I love you, and I don't want to leave you, but I also want some
happiness in my life, and I want you to be happy. Were you happy with
Tom yesterday?"
"Yes," she said so quietly I could barely hear her, "very happy."
"Then I think what we should do is plan another Saturday like this
one."
"No," she said, very shakily, "We mustn't! I don't know if Tom and I
would be able to control ourselves next time."
"And I don't know if Betty and I would be able to. But, June, that's
exactly what I'm talking about."
I forced her to look at me directly as I went on, "If this is the way
we're going to live our lives together, then things like what
happened yesterday, and things like a lot more than happened
yesterday, are just part of what you and I would have to accept about
ourselves and about each other."
Almost as an afterthought I added "I've read that some people have
decided to live that way and they've been able to make it work."
"Yeah, I know what you're talking about. It's called open marriage.
But I don't think I'm ready for anything like that. Is that what you
want, Bob?"
"No, not really. What I really want is a passionate love life with
you. But if I can't have that, then yes, I guess this would be the
second best thing."
"Are you in love with Betty?"
"No way! I don't even like to look at her, but please don't tell her
I said that! What does turn me on no end, though, is having her
turned on to me. When that happens, and it did happen yesterday, I
could care less about love or what the woman looks like."
"I guess maybe it's a man thing," I went on, "but when I see a woman
acting really hot I want her, no matter what I know or feel about her
any other time."
There was a longish pause, then I asked, "So, June, are you in love
with Tom?"
"No, I'm not, but the way I was feeling about him yesterday was
something else. And when he started squeezing my breasts, ... well,
... I got so hot for him I could hardly control myself."
Another pause, then she said, "But we're forgetting the most
important part. How do you think Tom and Betty would feel about
something like this?"
WELL, how about that for a quick attitude change? Just a minute ago
she was saying she wasn't ready for it. Now she sounds like she's
decided to go for it, and we just have to talk our proposed partners
into it.
"It seems to me you're the one that is going to have to work that
out. After all, you and Betty are good friends, while I hardly know
Tom."
"No way! I can't even begin to imagine how to bring up a subject like
that with Betty."
"I'll bet if you start talking about what we guys got done on
Saturday you could probably steer the topic around. Or else do what I
did a while ago, and tell her that you have to confess something.
Just keep reminding yourself that she also had feelings that were
similar to yours."
~~~~~~~~~~
I don't know how it was done, but the conversation did take place,
and on Thursday night June told me, blushing furiously, that she and
Betty thought it might be nice if Tom and I worked at each other's
houses again on Saturday. I reassured her that it was OK with me, and
I guess Tom must have told Betty the same, because at ten o'clock
Saturday morning I was freshly showered and on my way over to Betty's
house.
By the time I got there I had a monster hard-on just thinking about
what was likely to happen. Betty met me at the door wearing a robe
(and what underneath? I wondered).
As she let me in she glanced down at my crotch and said, "Oh, my,
you've got a real problem."
Then, as soon as she'd closed the door, she looked me square in the
eyes and declared, "Last week you made me come. I think it's time I
returned the favor. Come on." And she led me to the sofa. "Sit down."
Kneeling on the floor in front of me with her hands on my knees, she
looked up at me and said "First I want to tell you that the answer to
the question you asked last week is six and a half years. And you're
right, it was Tom who called a halt to it, not me. And you didn't ask
this, but I'm going to tell you, that there hasn't been anybody else,
but I have fantasies about it all the time.
"Now, with that out of the way, would it be OK if I undid your belt
and zipper?
"Oh, god, Betty! Please do." and she did.
"Oh, I want to see it so bad!" she shivered as she reached inside the
fly of my boxers and grabbed my cock.
She tried it pull it out, but couldn't because by now I was
considerable longer than the slot she was trying to pull it through.
I reached down, hooked the elastic with my thumbs, and pulled it up
and and away from my throbbing rod, pushing the top of my shorts down
to my balls. "Here, do it this way."
"Oh, yeah!" she drooled, grabbing my cock with one hand and starting
to pump while she extricated the other hand from my now wadded up
fly. "Oh, I love your wonderful cock!"
Actually, my penis is on the puny side, only five inches long and an
inch and a half across when fully at attention. But I guess if she
hadn't seen any cocks for six and a half years she might even think
mine was wonderful.
Now that she had her other hand free, she reached around me to pull
the back of my pants and under shorts down. Naturally I lifted up a
bit to help her do this. The long reach brought her head against my
belly, and the lift brought the head of my cock up where it brushed
against her lips.
I gulped, then moaned, "Oh, GOD, kiss me!"
Kiss me she did, but that was only the tip of the iceberg, so to
speak. After kissing and licking the head, then kissing her way down
one side and up the other, she started kissing her way down the
underside of it.
By now I was totally out of control, bucking up and down like a wild
horse. "OH, BETTY, I THINK I'M ABOUT TO COME!!"
She pulled her mouth away from the base of my cock.
"Hey, slow down there big guy. We don't want you coming too soon."
She went back to lightly kissing the tip, and with a mighty effort I
managed to hold myself back, but the way my cock was jumping around I
don't know how she managed to keep her mouth in the right place. Then
she solved that problem by wrapping her mouth around my bulb. I was
moaning and trembling with passion and my extreme attempts to keep
from coming.
But then she shoved her face all the way down, taking my cock into
her throat, and started sucking! With a rebel yell I grabbed her head
and started coming, propelling jet after jet down her throat.
It must have been at least two minutes later before I was able to
speak. "WOW!" I said, "I don't think I have ever come that hard in my
entire life.
Betty still had my cock in her mouth. Now she pulled her head up to
expose it. It was still upright, still apparently ready for action.
"And I," she wondered aloud, "have never seen a cock stay stiff after
coming so hard. How do you do that? I know you came, god do I ever
know you came, and came, and came."
Well, the part about still being hard was no surprise to me. I may be
small, but I have always made up for it in staying power. Once, many
years ago and long before I met June, I had a lover who was
multi-orgasmic to the extreme. I usually came for the first time on
about her second or third one, but we would keep going for --
literally -- an hour or more after that, with me never getting soft
and her coming every few minutes. There was no way that I could come
every time that she did, but I did stay hard, and I kept pumping, and
she was able to push me over the edge maybe half a dozen times. I'm
sure I didn't have much of anything to pump into her after the first
few times, but god, did those climaxes still felt great.
Naturally I couldn't explain all that to Betty. I just said, "I guess
you've got me so turned on that I may be able to come two or three
times."
"Oh, my god!" she moaned, "When you came I nearly came myself without
even being touched. If you could come again and make me come at the
same time I'd be delirious!"
Was she suggesting that she wanted me to come in her cunt? I guess
she could have been thinking of 69 style, or even hand jobs, but I
really, really wanted to fuck her.
There were practical difficulties, though. The missionary position
was out of the question. If I stacked my 50 inch waist on top of her
80 inch waist, even the tip of my poor little 5 inch cock would
probably be several inches away from her cunt. Coming in from behind
would be almost as bad, what with her huge ass and my fat belly.
Maybe if I got her legs pointing straight up and assumed a kneeling
position next to her pussy ...
That suggested another possibility. But I decided to start a bit
cautiously. "So, what are you wearing under that robe, Betty?"
She looked at me and blushed, then responded, almost shyly.
"Nothing."
"Well, then whatta ya say I follow suite. After all, you've already
had plenty of time to look at my most private of privates. So, is it
OK?"
She nodded yes, and it didn't take me long to get my clothes off.
"Now," I explained, "I'm going to lie down on my back, like this. How
about if you climb on top of me and straddle me. ... Right, like
that. Now let your ass come down against my legs. ... Can you move up
a little higher? ... A little higher. ... Keep coming. ... Yeah, just
like that. Do you feel anything?"
"Oh, god, do I ever!! Your jumping dick is rubbing against my clit,
and I'm coooOOMMMM!!!" followed by a long series of screams and
unintelligible attempts at words.
She finally calmed down a bit, and after much huffing and panting was
able to get out a few words. "Oh, baby, ... I have never dreamed ...
in my entire life ... that it could be that great! ... Did you come
too?"
"No, not yet, but I was hoping we could still keep going for a
while."
"Honey, the way I feel right now we could go on all day and all night
and it still wouldn't be too much for me!"
She was rubbing her pussy up and down the length of my rod, and from
the growing volume of her moans it seemed like she must be getting
close to another climax.
"I want to be inside you." I plead.
"Yes, Yes, YES!" she responded.
She was bouncing up and down on me now, so I just grabbed my cock and
pointed it where she could sink on it and impale herself.
"YeeeeesssSSS!!!!" she yelped and went off into another volley of
screaming.
The difference this time being that I could feel the powerful pulsing
of her cunt as she tried to milk me of anything she could get.
I was nearly there myself, and without even giving her much time to
calm down I started pumping up into her. She met each of my strokes
with her cunt and her voice.
"Uh, UH, Uh, UH, Hunh! HUNH! HUH!! HUH!!!" and we both started coming.
My cock would puff up bigger than it had ever been before, filling
her fuck hole. Then her cunt would squeeze hard, compressing it to
normal size. Then I'd puff up again and the dance between them
continued, on, and on, and on.
I have no idea how long that lasted, but after what seemed like hours
it ended, and my prick started shrinking, and we looked at each other
with glazed eyes. We were both completely exhausted. She sagged
forward on top of me, and we fell almost immediately into a sound
sleep.
I woke up feeling I was about to fall, and realized I was lying on my
side with my butt hanging almost completely off the edge of the sofa.
While we were sleeping she had somehow managed to wedge herself
between me and the back of the sofa.
"Wake up, babe, I'm falling off!"
"Huh? .. Wha?"
I'm falling, can't we go someplace more comfortable?"
"You're falling? .. Oh, yes I see. It's too crowded here. Can't we go
someplace else?"
"How about your bedroom?"
"Oh, Yes! I want to fuck in my bedroom! Let's go. I want to fuck
right now! Take me there and fuck me now!!"
So I did, and we did, and did we ever! I decided to try the other
position I had thought of, so I put her on her back with her legs in
the air. Then I crawled in behind her and spread my knees as far
apart as I could, but they were still nestling against her ass
cheeks. At least in this position her cunt was way up in the air, so
I came up to a full kneeling position and shoved my engorged cock
into her gaping hole. She gasped and started grinding against me, but
she didn't come immediately this time. Probably because she was still
only half awake.
It didn't take her long to wake up though. I started thrusting into
her cunt, and she started moaning, then grunting, louder and louder.
Soon I was grunting too, and going faster and faster. The pitch and
pace kept rising, until we reached another one of those mind-blowing
simultaneous orgasms. Cunt and cock were dancing just as wildly as
they had the first time, and again we lost all concept of time as
they pulsed on and on and on.
When it finally ended we again fell into an exhausted sleep. This
time when I woke up I was starving. And lonely. Betty was not lying
next to me. I rolled out of bed, buck naked, and headed for the
kitchen. Betty was there, making grilled cheese sandwiches.
She looked me up and down, then gave me a huge smile, "Hi there,
lover, sorry I went off and left you, but I was starved."
"Me too, what time is it?"
"You're not gonna believe this -- it's after two thirty. We seem to
have slept the entire day away."
"Oh, I wouldn't say that. I seem to remember doing a lot more than
sleeping."
"So do I, lover. So do I!"
She dropped the knife she was using to spread butter on the fourth
cheese sandwich and came over toward me. She still (or perhaps
again?) had on that robe she was wearing when I arrived, but it was
hanging open now. She wrapped her arms around my naked body and
kissed me. I realized with a shock that it was the first time we had
kissed. The kiss went on and on as our tongues got acquainted with
each other. Soon we were moaning and rubbing our chests together.
"I want you again!" she groaned.
"I want you too, but we can't. I've only got time to eat and get
dressed before I have to leave."
Then it hit me suddenly, "Oh, no! I haven't done a bit of work around
here today! What will you tell Tom?"
"Don't worry about that," she said slyly, "June and I agreed that
this was going to be a 'get acquainted' day rather than a work day."
~~~~~~~~~~
When I got home, June was lying on the sofa with her eyes closed. She
was wearing a sun dress, with no bra under it, which was unusual
enough, but that wasn't what really caught my eye. She was lying on
her back, with one hand on her breast and the other resting at her
crotch. I had never seen her do anything like that!
When I walked into the room she opened her eyes and smiled. "Hi,
welcome home."
"Hi, yourself. Did you have a good day?"
Her smile widened into a beatific grin. "Oh, yes, I had an incredible
day! How about you?
"Mmm, absolutely fantastic!" Then I added, "On the way home I was
wishing so hard that yours was too."
She looked a bit puzzled. "Oh? Why?"
"Because ... I was hoping you'd want to do this again sometime."
"Oh, YES, I do! Sometime very soon! But there is just one thing. ..."
she paused, uncertain of whether to proceed.
"What?" I encouraged her.
"It's the three o'clock time. I .. we .. it was very hard to .. I
mean, it would have been better if it was later."
"Don't I know it! I think next time we can all agree to make it
later."
"Oh, YES!" She closed her eyes and started squeezing her breast and
making tiny rubbing motions with her fingers on her crotch.
"Much later." I added.
At that her knees came up and spread apart, exposing her thighs and,
to my amazement, her naked pussy. Her fingers darted down there,
spread her lips, and started rubbing up and down, up and down. She
was moaning and grunting in time with her rubbing.
"Or, I know, how about if we made it for all night?"
When she heard that her pelvis started pumping up and down and she
started shoving her fingers deep into her cunt. "Oh! OH! Ohh! OHH!
Ohhh! OHHH! OHH,OHH,OHH,OHH, OOOHHHHooooOOOoooOOOhhhhh...!!!"
I took that as a "yes".
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