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Subject: {ASSM} (Repost) New Years Eve by Al Steiner
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Date: Fri, 30 Dec 2011 19:10:04 -0500
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Another reposting of a timely seasonal story.
This OP says, "Feel free to ---  repost,".
My thanks to Al Steiner 
(yes, I reposted this 2 or 3 years ago, but I 
always like and appreciate Al so I'll do it again!) 
(And yes, we are having a big party at our house 
for NYE for a bunch of couples!  But no chance 
for any of this type "friskyness"!)
---------------


Archive name: newyr08.txt (couples, wife swapping)
Authors name: Al Steiner (al_steiner@hotmail.com)
Story title : New Years Eve

----------------------------------------------------------
(c) copyrighted to Al Steiner 1999 - Feel free to archive, 
share, use, repost, be offended by, or anything else you 
want to do with it. I just like to write 'em. What you do 
with them is your business. Mail comments to 
Al_Steiner@Hotmail.com
----------------------------------------------------------

New Years Eve (couples, wife swapping)
By Al Steiner (al_steiner@hotmail.com)

***

It's not uncommon for cops to marry each other. We work a 
nasty, unforgiving, thankless job with pressure from all 
possible sides. We try to do what's right most of the 
time but somebody is always coming down on us. Our 
suspects, obviously don't like us and often curse us. We 
can live with that.

Their victims, often enough, also curse us a lot. I can't 
count the number of times I've arrested an abusive 
husband for beating the shit out of his wife and then had 
the wife in question verbally or even physically attack 
me for doing so. You LEARN to live with that.

Our citizens, the one's we're sworn to protect, are 
afraid of us, the best of them just avoiding our 
presence, the worst of them writing angry editorials to 
the newspaper about our alleged power abuses. We learn to 
live with this also.

The media, it goes without saying, loves nothing more 
than to slam us for something, taking comments out of 
context, interviewing outraged family members that were 
not present at the incident in question and presenting 
those interviews as if they were the gospel. We learn to 
cope with and protect ourselves to some degree against 
that.

Even our administration; that collection of captains, 
deputy chiefs, and the chief himself; people who have not 
been street cops in years, if ever, who are more 
interested in public relations than the morale of us poor 
line slobs, will burn us in an instant regardless of 
whether or not we're right. We learn to protect ourselves 
against this too.

We persevere. It's the nature of most of us. But it's not 
surprising that we're perhaps the most xenophobic group 
of individuals on the face of the earth. We have a 
divorce rate that is right off the chart. I know cops, 
both male and female, that have been married four times 
and still haven't learned the lesson. Marriage with 
civilians just doesn't work. They don't, they CAN'T 
understand what we go through, what motivates us, what 
frustrates us, what things we know about our fellow human 
beings. A wall of uncommunicativeness inevitably develops 
leading to antipathy with each other, infidelity, and 
eventually, hatred.

There are many cops of the old school still around that 
think allowing women onto the department was the worst 
mistake ever made. I beg to differ. For one, a good many 
of them make descent or even outstanding cops if they 
make the effort to fit into what had traditionally been a 
man's world.

After all, bulk and muscles are not what gets the job 
done but words and the projection of authority most of 
the time. Cops are the greatest bluffers on earth.

Second of all, there is now a group of females in 
existence that DOES know exactly what we go through 
because they go through the same thing. We can now relate
to someone. The divorce rate for inter-profession 
marriages is remarkably low, lower in fact than the 
national average of all marriages.

I'm one of the smart ones. I began dating Stephanie 
shortly after the Seattle Police Department hired her six 
years ago. At the time I was a two-year veteran, just 
becoming comfortable with the job and just getting bored 
with the life of a single cop. I'd had my fill of night 
shift waitresses, dispatchers, clerks in convenience 
stores, and other forms of cop groupie and was ready to 
settle down a little.

She was a cute brunette assigned to one of the training 
officers on my shift. We often ran into each other on 
calls and hit it off pretty well. We began dating once 
she was released for duty on her own. A year later we 
were married and proceeded to pump out two kids, girls, 
both of them, twenty-two months apart. We now have a nice 
house in suburban Seattle (two civil service incomes 
combined is a comfortable salary that qualifies for a 
NICE amount on a home loan).

Like most cops, we choose not to socialize with civilians 
in our off time. Such relationships just don't work. The 
civilian will feel the need to vent about his or her 
encounter with what he or she considered a rude cop. Or 
they'll express their opinion about the latest damning 
editorial they'd read in the paper. At some point, 
they'll get a speeding ticket or something and, after 
complaining about the heartlessness of the cop that had 
issued it, will ask if you can "fix" it for them. It's 
best to just avoid those kinds of relationships. But 
still, we have the need to socialize and to fulfill this, 
we naturally turn to other cops.

Stephanie and I are very close friends with another pair 
of married cops; Mark and Michelle Lacy. Mark was hired 
the year after I was and had been assigned, once his 
training was complete, to the same district as I. 
Michelle, a big-boned blonde, not quite large enough to 
be considered chunky, was hired the year after Stephanie 
and had met Mark in a manner similar to the way I'd met 
Steph.

They married within a year of meeting and they too 
proceeded to pump out a couple of kids. Mark and I became 
friends early on when we found ourselves frequently 
assigned to calls together. Our get-togethers on mutual 
off-nights began shortly after the birth of Mark and 
Michelle's first child.

The get-togethers were not as frequent as we would have 
liked. Since none of the four of us were particularly 
fond of day-care we each sacrificed time with our spouses 
in order to minimize the amount of time the children were 
not in the presence of one or the other of the parents. 
To do this, we worked opposing shifts from our spouses.

Mark and I both worked weekend day shift, he in Central 
Seattle (not nearly as glamorous as it sounded, downtown 
Seattle, once away from the high-rises, was a pit), me in 
South Seattle, a lower-class residential area. Michelle 
and Stephanie both worked the same division and shift; 
East Seattle, another crime-ridden ghetto, on the weekday 
swing shift. It was rare indeed when all four of us had a 
day off at the same time, but we'd made a point, a long 
time ago, to take advantage of such opportunities when 
they arose.

Usually, when we DID get together, we would watch the 
children, who were becoming fast friends with one 
another, play together. We would barbecue something, make 
a nice dinner. We would play cards or Pictionary or some 
other board game. We would talk shop, getting calls off 
of our chests, bitching about management, that sort of 
thing. But always we would drink. Cops are voracious 
drinkers of alcohol in our off time. Why not? It is 
legal.

As for driving under the influence, we could do that with 
near impunity. As long as we didn't actually get into an 
accident, we were safe. If another cop, even one from 
another agency, pulled us over for erratic driving or 
something else, a simple flash of the badge would bring 
the encounter to a quick end. You can call it corruption 
or professional courtesy, or whatever else you like, you 
can think it right or wrong or just an interesting perk 
of the job, but it's a simple fact. Off duty cops, in the 
matter of driving infractions, definitely live above the 
law. Don't ever let any of them tell you otherwise.
 
Thanks to the alcohol consumed at these functions, quite 
an intimate rapport had developed between the four of us. 
We could say things to each other that would have caused 
other invited couples to storm out of the house in 
outrage. For instance, I could say how nice Michelle's 
tits looked in her new sweater and then make a snide 
comment about how much I'd like to squeeze them.

Neither Mark, nor Michelle, nor Stephanie would be the 
least bit offended by this, though they would usually 
laugh outrageously at the observation. Michelle, who was 
proud of her tits, might even cup them for a moment as 
emphasis. Similarly, Mark could point out how Steph's 
ass was looking extremely tight in those jeans she was 
wearing and speculate on the firmness of the individual 
cheeks and what they might feel like with his cock in 
between them.

This offended me not the least bit, nor did it Steph or 
Michelle. Many a discussion had centered on the 
possibilities of wife swapping. We joked about how it 
would be perfectly safe since both Mark and I had been 
vasectomized and we were all free of dangerous diseases. 
These discussions always produced good laughs.

Now there are fundamental differences between women and 
men. I knew and Mark knew that both of us were not fully 
joking when we talked of wife swapping. And we both knew 
that the other knew this. We're males and the instinct of 
a male is to strive for variety in his respective sex-
life, no matter how attractive, pleasant, or skilled his 
spouse is in the bedroom. We knew that if the wives were 
to suddenly agree to this, it would not take more than a 
minute or so to convince US that it was a good thing to 
do.

We also both assumed that the wives WERE joking when they 
discussed it. Women's sexual desires and needs are 
different than those of a man. Women did not strive for 
variety for the simple fact of experimentation. Or so we 
thought. Until New Years Eve.

We always made it a point to get together on December 
31 of each year. Usually it involved one or more of us 
taking the night or next day off, but New Years eve, 
though it paid holiday overtime rate, is not a pleasant 
shift to work anyway. In fact, it's our busiest day of 
the year, what with all the drunken revelry and the 
inevitable domestic disputes that result from it. Throw 
in all of the calls for "shots fired in the vicinity 
of...", and you have an ugly ten hours of work that 
usually turns into twelve or thirteen.

When you had the seniority that the four of us did, and 
if you asked for that particular day off far enough in 
advance, it was usually granted. This year was no 
exception. I was scheduled to work at 6:00 AM New Years 
Day but a time- off request submitted way back in October 
had neatly taken care of that. The rest of the crew, by 
luck of the draw, was already off.

Our house was the chosen locale this year. Mark and 
Michelle showed up about seven o'clock that evening 
bringing a couple of marinated steaks and a bottle of 
tequila with them. Their two children, Jason and 
Alexandria, followed them inside where they greeted us 
and our two children, Sarah and Jessica, enthusiasti-
cally. They weren't there five minutes before the first
batch of potent margaritas was whirring to completion 
in our blender.

We started dinner right away, finishing it and cleaning 
up the dishes by 8:30. We were all pleasantly buzzed by 
then, our discussions animated and mostly centering on 
work. The kids of course wanted to stay up until midnight 
and we told them that they could but the oldest, Jessica, 
was only four and a half, and by ten minutes after 9:00, 
all of them were sound asleep on couches or floors. We 
carried them to waiting beds and returned to the living 
room where the REAL drinking soon started.

We began by playing TABOO, a board game in which you have 
to have your partner guess a certain word by giving 
clues. The catch is that the most obvious clues are 
usually on the list of taboo words. It's fun, all the 
more so because a member of the opposing team is required 
to sit next to you to make sure you don't say any of the 
forbidden words.

Since the married couples were natural teams, this meant 
that Michelle and I were sitting next to each other as 
were Steph and Mark. As we played we drank more and more 
margaritas, taking turns getting up and making each new 
batch.

Soon we were all pretty squiffed. I particularly enjoyed 
the way that Michelle leaned into me whenever she needed 
to read over my shoulder. Her balance was off and her 
large breasts pushed pleasantly into my arm each time. I 
certainly didn't complain, nor did Stephanie who couldn't 
have helped seeing what Michelle was doing.

In fact, I noticed, she was doing the same thing to Mark 
when she read over his shoulder. I began to get aroused.

At about 10:00, we had just finished up the last round of 
TABOO. Michelle, still sitting next to me, was telling a 
joke. "And so the Pope looked at them all." She said, 
giggling already. She jabbed her elbow into my side in a 
friendly manner, indicating that this is what the Pope in 
her joke did. "And said, 'you motherfuckers are all 
right'."

We began laughing. It WAS a pretty funny joke, made all 
the more so by our current level of intoxication. 
Stephanie, in a fit of girlish laughter, accidentally 
knocked her quarter-full margarita glass over. The green, 
icy liquid sloshed across the table and poured into 
Mark's lap, causing him to jump up, startled. This caused 
everybody to laugh even more.

"I'm so sorry." Steph giggled, sounding anything but. 
"Here." She said, grabbing a handful of napkins from a 
pile on the table. She quickly cleaned off the chair and 
discarded the wet ones. She then picked up another pile 
and began wiping the wet spot on the front of Mark's 
pants. Her strokes were firm, teasing, and not doing much 
to dry him off at all. It was probably, in fact, making 
him spring some wood.

He looked at me a little uncomfortably for a moment. 
"Better be careful." He told Steph with a smile.

"Or it might suddenly get a lot wetter."

She chortled. "I'm good." She said. "But I didn't know I 
was that good."

"Maybe you oughtta vacuum dry it." Michelle suggested to 
her. "If you know what I mean."

This actually made Mark blush which served to make 
everyone else spew laughter. After a moment, Steph 
removed her hand and he sat back down.

It was Michelle's turn to make the next batch of drinks. 
She disappeared into the kitchen for a few minutes and 
then came the sound of the blender grinding up the 
concoction of ice, tequila (lots of it), and generic 
margarita mix. When she returned, she unsteadily poured 
herself a glassful and then set the blender down on the 
table.

"I'm too friggin' drunk to pour everyone's drink." She 
said, slurring a little. "You can all just do it 
yourselves. That way, if you spill the shit, it's your 
own fault."

"I know a good place to spill it." Steph said, casting an 
amused eye at Mark.

A look passed between the two women at that point. I 
didn't know what it meant, not then, but some form of 
telepathic communication took place. Michelle, on the way 
to her chair, eased behind me. I felt the weight of her 
substantial breasts pushing against my back. She paused 
there.

"You know Stephie." She said with mock indignation. "I'm 
offended. You went and spilled a drink on my husband. 
That's an insult in some countries."

"Oh yeah?" Steph grinned.

"Yeah." She answered. "I can't just let that go without 
retaliation." With that, she stretched her drink arm over 
my shoulder and poured about half of her margarita right 
into my crotch.

"Jesus!" I exclaimed, jumping. Have you ever had icy 
liquid poured onto your genitals? It's kind of like, well 
kind of like having icy liquid poured onto your genitals. 
I stood up so quick that my body threw Michelle, who'd 
still been on my back, backwards. She stumbled and fell 
to her butt on the floor, pouring the remainder of her 
drink into HER lap.

Mark and Steph were both in hysterics, seeing this. 
Though my crotch was numb I quickly found humor in the 
situation and began laughing too, as did Michelle. I held 
out my hand to help her up. She took it but when I 
started to pull she gave a strong yank, pulling me down 
on top of her. We fell to the floor, our chests and 
groins pushing together.

"Gotcha." She grinned, her face inches from mine, close 
enough so I could smell her breath. She ground her crotch 
playfully into me. Playful or not though, my body 
responded immediately to the feel of her wet crotch 
rubbing against mine. Though we'd joked around before, it 
was almost a ritual, this was the first time I'd ever 
been in close, intimate contact with her body. It felt 
nice, different than Steph's. It was a little larger and 
a little softer. And her breasts were a lot larger.

"Careful." I said. "Your husband might get offended."

"Are you offended Markie?" She asked lightly, giving me 
another grind.

"Nope." He burped. "I'm very inoffensable."

"You guys ARE getting my carpet all wet though." 
Stephanie pointed out, giggling.

Reluctantly I pulled myself off of her, holding out my 
hand once again to help her up. This time she stood in 
the normal fashion.

"Gee Michelle." Steph said, looking at me. "I do believe 
you gave my husband a boner."

I was shocked that she would say such a thing and opened 
my mouth to deny it. But then, looking down at myself, I 
could see there was nothing to deny. My pants, made 
tighter than normal by the margarita spilled on them, 
were most definitely bulging outward. I felt myself 
blushing, the boner of which they spoke wilting in shame. 
I wondered if Mark was going to kick my ass and felt 
grateful that none of us were wearing our off-duty 
weapons at the moment. But Mark was simply grinning, 
shaking his head back and forth.

"She gives good boners, doesn't she?" He asked.

"But does she know what to do with them afterward?" Steph 
enquired.

"I've never had any complaints." Michelle answered. She 
looked at me and ran her finger up the bulge in my pants, 
both making me jump again and making Steph and Mark 
laugh. "You better get your wifey to take care of that 
for you."

"Oh no." Steph said. "You gave it to him. YOU take care 
of it."

At that point the atmosphere in the room underwent a 
change. Before, though we'd been admittedly more raunchy 
than usual we could still tell ourselves that we were 
only kidding around in a drunken way. That illusion was 
about to end and we were about to cross over a line, from 
friendliness to open sexuality. We stopped giggling and 
became more serious, serious enough to feel the charge of 
sexual electricity in the air.

If any one of us would have said anything, even jokingly, 
to indicate that they didn't want to take part in where 
this path was leading, it would have come to a stop right 
there and we would have gone back to our usual sort of 
party. But no one did.

"Well," Michelle said, issuing a joking statement with a 
dead-serious voice. "If I must, I must."

Slowly she sank to her knees at my feet, so that her face 
was even with my wet crotch. Seeing her do this and 
realizing its implications, my cock sprang back to life, 
becoming instantly, painfully hard. She licked her lips 
once and then peered around the room, looking at each of 
our faces for objections. It was still technically 
possible to abort at this point. Nobody gave a negative 
sign, either verbally or through body language.

In fact, Stephanie was showing the unmistakable signs of 
arousal that I was so familiar with. Her face was flushed 
and her brown eyes were shining. I could see that her 
nipples were hard and poking through her bra and her 
shirt.

Slowly, Michelle reached forward and undid the button on 
my pants. When she pulled the zipper down, causing the 
pants to fall around my feet, leaving me standing there 
in my BVDs, which were quite tented, the line had been 
crossed. The going became much easier after this.

She pulled my underwear down with a single stroke, 
revealing my cock to her gaze (as well as her husband's 
who, I HOPE, wasn't that interested in seeing it). She 
caressed it gently with her fingers and then leaned 
forward, licking from the shaft to the head.

"Tastes like a margarita." She commented.

This broke the tension in the room. We all laughed for a 
moment.

"It's margarita-dick!" Mark chided.

Michelle kissed the head a few times and then took it in 
her mouth, giving it a little suck. She pulled her mouth 
off and turned to my wife. "Hey Steph." She said. "I bet 
I can make your husband come before you can make my 
husband come."

"Oh yeah?" Steph breathed, very flushed now. "How much?"

"First choice of patrol cars next shift."

"You're on." Steph said, pointing to a spot on the carpet 
next to her. "Get over here." She told Mark. He didn't 
have to be told twice.

Steph undid his pants and dropped them, along with his 
underwear. Soon his cock was out in all of its glory.

"On three." Steph said.

"And you gotta swallow." Mark put in. "Or it's a 
forfeit."

"Who put you in charge of our bet?" Michelle asked.

"Somebody's gotta be a judge." He told her. "Just to make 
sure it's done fairly. Spilling indicates poor technique. 
And poor technique shouldn't win such a vital contest, 
don't you agree?"

"Oh shut the fuck up." Steph said, grabbing him around 
the base of his cock. "One, two, three."

With that the two women dropped their heads and began 
orally copulating. I have to say, in all fairness, that 
my wife sucks cock better than Michelle does. Unlike many 
married women, she actually LIKES to give head and does 
it frequently. But that's not to say that Michelle was a 
slouch at it. She'd obviously had a cock in her mouth a 
time or two before. She mouthed and tongued me, jacking 
me with her hands, occasionally licking my balls or 
fondling them. Her hands caressed and squeezed the cheeks 
of my ass.

That fact that this was not my wife also added a lot to 
the experience, as did the fact that my wife not only 
knew about this and consented to it, but that she was 
less than five feet away doing the same thing to someone 
else. The whole thing felt nasty to me, but nasty in a 
good way. The alcohol was doing a nice job of keeping 
those nagging second thoughts from surfacing, those dirty 
little things that had ruined more than their fair-share 
of good times.

I looked down at Michelle's head bobbing up and down on 
me. It was so strange to see a blonde head between my legs.
While she slurped away I looked over at Mark and Steph.

Steph, I could see, was intent upon winning her bet. She 
was going no holds barred at his cock, bobbing, sucking, 
and jacking all at the same time. Mark glanced over at me 
for a moment and our eyes met. This was a man that I'd 
worked with on the streets, that I'd gotten drunk with in 
cop bars, that I went hunting with every October. My wife 
was sucking on his cock. Groovy. He grinned at me for a 
moment and then gave me a thumbs-up sign.

He then closed his eyes and leaned his head back, 
dropping his hands into my wife's brown hair.

Steph won the bet handily. I heard a grunt and a groan 
from Mark's mouth and looked over just in time to see my 
wife swallowing frantically. She slurped him dry, not 
spilling a drop and then pulled her head out of his 
crotch.

"Winner!" She proclaimed proudly.

Michelle took her mouth off of my cock for a moment. 
"Well ain't that some shit." She said. She looked up at 
me. "You let me down."

"It was close." I said weakly, telling the truth.

"Yeah? How close?"

"Go back to work and you'll see." I said.

She smiled up at me and then dropped her head to my cock 
again. I kept my eyes closed while she sucked, knowing 
that we now had an audience and figuring that seeing them 
watching would distract me. It took about two minutes of 
work before the spasms started in my groin. My hips began 
bucking and I shot a huge load between her lips. She too 
swallowed every drop.

The sound of applause made me open my eyes. Steph and 
Mark were grinning at us. Mark, I saw, had kicked off his 
pants, socks and shoes at some point. I began doing the 
same.

"Hey Mark." I said, sitting on the floor to complete the 
job of clothing removal. "I bet I can make your wife come 
before you can make my wife come."

He chuckled. "How much?"

"A dollar." I said.

"You're on." He answered. "Mouths only for the purposes 
of the bet?"

"Mouths and fingers." I amended. "For the bet."

"Don't we have any say in this?" Michelle asked with 
false huffiness.

Mark and I looked at each other. "No." I finally said, 
and patted the ground next to me. "Lie down."

Michelle sat down on the carpet. To my right, Steph did 
the same in front of Mark. I reached out and stroked her 
face lightly, making her smile.

"I can't believe we're doing this." She said softly, 
nervously.

"Me either." I told her, running my hands down her jeans 
to her feet. "But it's fun, isn't it?"

"Yes." She said. "It is that."

I untied her shoes and removed them, setting them aside 
and then pulling off her pink socks and putting them 
inside of the shoes. The bet was just a facade, I didn't 
really care about winning it. I'd imagined making love to 
Michelle before, it was only natural male instincts, and 
I wanted to make it good for her, not fast. I leaned 
forward once her shoes were off, running my hands up the 
outside of her thighs to her waist, pressing my chest to 
hers. I kissed her gently, sucking on her bottom lip a 
little before inserting my tongue between her lips. Her 
tongue reached out to touch mine, tentatively at first 
and then with more aggression.

I grasped the bottom of her shirt and, breaking the kiss 
and leaning back, pulled upwards on it, revealing her 
stomach and her bra-clad bosom. I pulled the shirt over 
her head and tossed it aside. Her breasts were barely 
restrained by the brassiere she wore. The straps had to 
be biting into her shoulders and back. I ran my hands 
softly over the cups, feeling the hardened nipples 
beneath. Her nipples, I could tell, were bigger than 
Steph's.

I trailed my hands downward, over her the flesh of her 
abdomen, which had an array of stretch marks on it, the 
mark of childbirth. Steph had a similar pattern on her 
own stomach. Kissing her again, I reached behind her back 
and found the clasp of her bra. As I undid it, I began 
kissing her neck and bare shoulder. She cooed softly as I 
did this.

Once the bra was released, I leaned backward again, 
letting it drop. Her tits sagged downward due to the 
sheer weight of them, but they were still impressive. Her 
nipples were standing out firmly. I ran my hands over 
them softly while she tossed her bra aside, squeezing 
them a little.

As I pushed gently on her, forcing her to her back, I 
heard a groan from Steph and Mark's direction. I spared 
them a quick glance, seeing that Mark was moving a lot 
faster than I was. He already had her naked, his mouth 
attached to her left breast, his fingers plunging in and 
out of her black bush. Steph was lying on her back, eyes 
closed, seemingly enjoying herself.

I turned my attention back to Michelle, pausing for a 
second to remove my own shirt, which left me naked. I 
kissed her gently again and then began to lick and suck 
my way down her neck, onto her shoulders, and finally to 
the top of her breasts. I kissed all around them, working 
my way to her nipples but avoiding them for the time 
being.

Finally I took the left one into my mouth and began to 
suckle it like a baby. Her hand came to the back of my 
head and began running through my hair. I switched to the 
other breast, suckling it for a while, and then began to 
work my way south, planting strategic kisses on her 
stomach and flank. I licked across her belly button and 
then reached the waist of her jeans.

Slowly, deliberately, I unbuttoned the snap and slid the 
zipper down. The panties beneath were white with little 
Santa Clauses printed on them, obviously left over from 
Christmas. "Cute." I remarked, making her giggle. I 
grasped the waist of her pants and pulled downward. She 
lifted her hips, allowing them to come free but leaving 
the Christmas panties in place. I slid the jeans off 
of her and tossed them aside. Her legs were full but not 
flabby at all.

Like Steph, she ran at least twenty miles a week and her 
calves bulged with runner's muscle. I slid my hand up and 
down her pale legs a few times, liking the feel of them.

Another groan caused me to look over at Steph and Mark 
again. They were going for broke. Mark had his face 
buried between my wife's widely spread thighs and she had 
her hands on the back of his head, urging him on. 
Michelle looked over at them too.

"I think you might lose your bet at this rate." She told 
me, smiling sexily, seductively.

I shrugged. "I guess I'll be out a dollar then. Hope I 
can cover it."

With that, I dropped my head down to her left knee and 
began to kiss it. Her legs opened as I went to work, 
affording me a view of her panty-clad crotch. Her 
panties, I saw, were absolutely soaked with secretions. 
Like a wet T-shirt, I could see right through them to the 
flesh of her vagina. My dick, which had begun to harden 
again the moment I touched her breasts for the first 
time, now let me know that it was firmly back in the 
game. I licked and sucked my way up her legs, treating 
each equally (us cops are champions of equal rights you 
know), until I came to her panties.

I could smell her now, the scent of female arousal, the 
most powerful aphrodisiac known to man. She smelled 
different than Steph, not better, not worse, maybe a 
little stronger, but different. This turned me on 
incredibly.

I planted kisses on the outside of her panties, right 
above her vaginal lips, sucking her juice from the cotton 
of her underwear. She sighed in a frustrated way. Hooking 
a finger into the elastic, I pulled the crotch aside, 
getting my first unimpeded view of her vagina. It was 
swollen and wet, just begging for a tongue to enter it. 
The hair surrounding it was light brown in color and very 
kinky.

It had been years since I'd seen a blonde bush and I 
stopped for a moment, just drinking in the sight of it. 
Finally, I leaned forward and ran my tongue across her 
puffy lips, lapping up her taste and making her draw in a 
sharp breath.

"Quit fucking around." She ordered in a deeper voice than 
was her normal. "Get those fuckin' panties off and EAT 
me!"

Instead of responding immediately, I planted another soft 
kiss on her inner thigh, running my tongue over and 
barely flicking her engorged clit.

She moaned almost painfully. "Now Goddamit." She 
commanded.

As I pulled her panties off and prepared to begin my 
serious work, I saw that Steph was approaching orgasm. I 
knew the signs well. Her pelvis was thrusting with an 
erratic rhythm, her forehead was sweating, and she was 
chewing on her bottom lip. It looked like I'd definitely 
lost that dollar.

I tossed Michelle's panties aside and then spread her 
legs wide. I put my face between them and began 
immediately plunging my tongue in and out of her. She 
groaned loudly as I lapped at her. I spread her with my 
fingers to achieve deeper penetration (and to get some of 
her thick hair out of my way-she was HAIRY) of my tongue. 
I deliberately avoided her clit at first even though it 
was about as swollen and inviting looking as a clit could 
get. I flirted with the hood a little, running my tongue 
in circles around it before returning to the licking and 
plunging of her slit. I knew this would feel very good to 
her but the clit is where it's at and if you want to 
bring a woman to orgasm, you'd better know what to do 
with the clit.

Just when she was probably starting to think I didn't 
know how to eat a pussy properly, I moved north and began 
licking the boatman with firm strokes. She let out a 
squeal that was almost bovine in nature, mashing herself 
into my face. I lost target for a moment but quickly re-
acquired it by feel. When I started to gently suck on her 
clit I thought she was going to lose her mind. She 
actually screamed loud enough for me to worry about the 
neighbors calling the cops (that would've been 
interesting, they undoubtedly would have been someone we 
knew). Her pelvis began to move up and down, left and 
right, in and out, making it difficult to keep my mouth 
where it belonged.

When I DID lose contact with her clit she groaned in 
frustration that sounded downright angry until I locked 
back on. I grasped her legs firmly to keep myself in 
position. When she came, she damn near choked me out. Her 
legs tightened around my neck, cutting off my air supply. 
Her heels dug forcefully into my upper back. Her hands 
pulled my hair so hard that I actually felt some of the 
strands being ripped free.

Finally the bucking and thrusting and screaming and 
pulling eased up and her body relaxed. I was in shock. 
I'd never experienced anyone come that violently before. 
Did Mark find it necessary to put on his body armor 
before he did this to her?

I raised my head out of her crotch, wiping her generous 
secretions off of my face with the back of my arm. She 
was panting, licking her lips, and had a mad glint in her 
eye. I glanced to my right and saw that Steph and Mark 
were now busily fucking. His butt slammed in and out, 
Steph's legs wrapped around his back while he sucked her 
tits.

"Get your ass up here and FUCK me, you bastard!" Michelle 
commanded. My eyes widened in shock and arousal. It was 
the same voice, you see, that she would have used when 
ordering some dirtbag out of a stolen car at gunpoint. It 
was a stark contrast to Stephanie, who preferred to be 
dainty and feminine at home, offsetting the hard-ass 
bitch she was capable of being on the job.

I climbed frantically aboard her body, nearly throwing 
her legs apart. She grabbed me by the ears, pulling my 
face down to hers and thrusting her tongue so deep into 
my mouth I almost gagged. I positioned my cock against 
her slimy vaginal lips and sank into her, making both of 
us gasp. I started fucking her, not bothering with a slow 
build-up. Again it was an experience of near-violence. 
She moaned and cussed, scratched and pounded me as I 
banged in and out of her.

She grabbed my ass cheeks and squeezed them together. She 
slapped them loudly with her hands. She slammed her 
finger into my asshole, which really gave me a start.

She sucked and bit my neck and shoulders. When she came, 
she scratched me so hard with her fingernails that I 
thought I might be bleeding. Not that all of this was 
unpleasant; don't let me give you that impression. It was
very exciting and very different from what I was used to,
though I can't say that I'd want this treatment every 
night.

Finally I felt orgasm approaching. I groaned this out to 
her and she became even more frantic. She began sucking 
my neck again and biting it. Her fingers went to my 
asshole once again, plunging not just one, but two of 
them in all the way past the second knuckle. This pushed 
me over the edge. Following her lead, I screamed into the 
living room and poured myself out into her body.

Once my thrusting stopped, her demeanor changed back to 
soft and gentle. She kissed me with a feathery touch of 
lips and tongue, licking at my lip. She withdrew her 
fingers from my ass and I wondered if IT was bleeding as 
well as my back. A memory of the days when Mark and I 
used to work the same station came to me. Most of the 
time he changed like everyone else in the locker room, 
stripping down to underwear before putting on his 
uniform.

But sometimes he would come in wearing a work T-shirt 
already. It was nothing that seemed important or 
noteworthy at the time but I understood the ramifications 
of it now. Those were the days after he'd had sex with 
Michelle. His back at those times, must've been a mess. I 
wondered if he had any permanent scars.

I raised my head up and looked to my right once again. 
Mark and Steph were both naked, unmoving, cuddled up with 
each other. They were looking at us, smiling softly. I 
wondered what would happen now. Could our relationship 
ever be the same?

"You owe me a buck." Mark said matter-of-factly. "Don't 
make me have to send you to collections."

We all had a laugh at this and then disentangled 
ourselves. Nobody seemed to have a problem with what had 
just occurred, at least not at the moment. We put our 
clothes back on and made another pitcher of margaritas. 
Soon the New Year announced itself by the crackle of 
firecrackers, M-80s, and the occasional pistol shot from 
outside. We went to bed soon after that.

There was no discussion about it but Michelle followed me 
to our bedroom while Steph followed Mark to our guest 
bedroom. I found out that Michelle is fond of anal sex 
that night, as well as giving rim jobs. We fell asleep 
together, naked in each other's arms.

My last thought before drifting off into a drunken stupor 
was what tomorrow was going to bring.

END

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It's okay to *READ* stories about unprotected sex with
others outside a monogamous relationship. But it isn't
okay to *HAVE* unprotected sex with people other than
a trusted partner. You only have one body per lifetime,
so take good care of it!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Kristen's collection - Directory 16

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