She said that when I come back home, I really put a good pounding to her.

I told her that the reason why is because I always imagine her dancing on the stage and doing private dances with guys in the back rooms of the strip club. She looked a little shocked but thrilled at the same time.

She said, “that she couldn’t do that…. that she wasn’t built good enough to be interesting to any of those guys.”

I told her, “are you crazy! You’re built a hell of a lot better then any of those strippers….that she has a huge set of all natural tits while they have fake boobs…. that she was built like a brick house with just enough meat on her bones for a guy to really put a nailing to her.”

She just laughed and blushed. We then went to bed and fucked or brains out better then in years while talking about her being a stripper. In the end I just told her to come to the strip joint and see for herself.

Since I was a regular costumer of the strip joint, I knew the owner and manager and most of the people that worked there.

I approached the manager and owner about my idea of getting my wife to strip at their club. Both of the guys were egar to help out saying, “that they were always looking for new talent”.

(...)
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“I won a week in Las Vegas on that radio show! I was the ninth caller and I won us a vacation.”

Little did I know what a change that was going to make in our lives. We’d been married three years and had been sweethearts since the sixth grade. We had wanted to get married since we were fifteen but of course we had to wait until we were eighteen. As I said, we live in a small town and most decent folk are very conservative. It may be difficult for most of you to believe but the most we did before we were married was French kiss, and at that we thought we were courting eternal damnation.

After we were married the floodgates burst open so to speak. Our honeymoon was a camping / fishing trip for two weeks. Claire loves to fish as much as I do so we thought it would be great. The only pole that saw any use in those two weeks was my stiff rod. We fucked morning, noon and night. Claire just couldn’t get enough. I’d wake in the morning because she was sliding her pussy over my morning boner.

(...)
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“It’s the queen size bed, it’s too small for this room,” Kelly said.

I nodded in agreement. “Yeah, it’s such a bigger room than in the last house.”

“Come on, let’s go pick out a King!” she said, grabbing my hand, and we were off to the furniture store.

We walked around the store for awhile until she found the bed set she wanted, and then went over to pick out a new mattress. She began hopping on the mattresses to try them, and it wasn’t long before one of the young salesman came over to help. His interest was plainly in my wife, who was wearing tight jeans and a tighter shirt, showing off a trim waist and a perfect pair of 32C breasts.

He said hi to us and immediately began talking to her, showing off some newer styles, and never taking his eyes off her body. I’m used to it, and I like men staring at her, and she’s well aware of the effect she has.

(...)
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From early morning to late at night, my husband works as a heavy equipment salesman. He makes tons of money, but he never makes love to me except for a half-hearted effort on some weekends. What’s even worse, when he gets home at night he usually falls asleep on the couch. We never see a movie, go out to dinner, or even just go to the mall to get out of the house. Yes, if it wasn’t for the fact that he gives me and the kids all the money we need, life would be unbearable.

The worst thing, though, is that I really loved him before he began to think of nothing but work. I still do love him, and that’s why for 15 years I never thought of cheating on him. I always thought everything would be allright if he’d just think of me sometimes instead of how many bulldozers he can sell to the big account in Idaho! Anyway, when I told him I was getting bored and needed something to do during the day (he doesn’t want me to work; he says he makes more money than we could ever spend, and he might be right!), he said “Why don’t you go volunteer to work at the hospital. That should keep you busy!”

Although I don’t like the sight of blood, I responded to an ad in the paper looking for hospital volunteers. As I was given a tour of the hospital, the volunteer coordinator explained that I would basically help the nurses — make sure ice water bottles in rooms are filled, maybe push a patient around in a wheelchair, get newspapers for the patients, and so on. It didn’t sound too dificult, so I told them I would begin on Monday.

Since I’m just 36, I was easily the youngest volunteer in the hospital. Most of the daytime help consisted of retired gents, or elderly widows after the retired gents. Still, everyone pitched in and made themselves useful. After the first week, I was finding the work very rewarding and I looked forward to my four-hour shift three days a week! I was still frustrated by my husband’s lack of attention, but the volunteer work provided some outlet and relief from my physical cravings for sex.

(...)
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One night I was working late in the management building back at school. I was just done finishing one of my papers and I ventured down into the basement for a snack from one of the machines. It was almost midnight and I thought the only people in the building were me and the old security guard at the front of the building who only ever left his seat to take a leak and make some coffee. As I walked down the pseudo-gloomy hallway of the basement, past the unused classrooms and the broom closets, I could hear this strange sound. In a way, it sounded like heavy breathing (which should have tipped me off), but it also sounded like some air vent or another has sprung a small leak. It was coming from down the end of the hallway where it took a turn and ended at a series of utility rooms. Naturally, I was curious as to the source of the sound because if it was something in one of those rooms, I felt obligated to check it out and go tell the guard, lest the building do something like explode and take my education with it. I strolled down the hallway, listening intently to the sound as it grew louder. As I neared the end of the hallway, there was also the undertone of a different sound…something that sounded wet. This second sound ceased when I was but a few feet away. I strode the final few steps and turned the corner. To say that I was shocked would be an understatement, but in retrospect, I really shouldn’t have been. If I had half a brain I should have expected what I saw.

(...)
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It happened one Saturday afternoon when my boss Phil and I were doing some overtime trying to finish up the cycle counts on the inventory at work. We’d had nothing but computer problems all week and had fallen way behind with the cycle count updates. By working all Saturday we would be able to catch up so that the inventory would be totally caught up on Monday.

I had been working since 8 o’clock that morning and for some reason my thoughts kept going back to the weekend before when my boyfriend Rob and I had spent the whole Saturday in bed having great sex. He’s such a stud and he always makes me crazy with lust when we decide to spend the day under the covers.

Rob had been away all week on a trip back east to visit his ailing father. And I couldn’t get the memory of his big stiff weenie out of my mind. I could envision it in all its glory; the way it looked when we’d start out, so huge and thick. Then after his first orgasm how slick it was, almost like it was made out of plastic. The way it looked when I got on top of him and started riding him like a rodeo cowgirl.

(...)
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We checked in, finding our adjoining rooms on the 23rd floor of a large luxury hotel. We’d both been surprised when we were booked into this hotel, expecting more modest quarters.

The rooms weren’t lavish, quite the contrary, they were simple, efficient hotel rooms. In a word, dull. But the interconnecting door gave me some thoughts, and I hoped Julie was thinking the same thoughts.

We settled into our rooms and I’d just washed up a bit when there was a light knock on the door between our rooms. I opened it and Julie standing there. She suggested that we have an early dinner somewhere nearby and perhaps a drink, as this would be our only night in the big apple.

We dined at a small Italian place, with high prices and equally good food. Afterwards, we visited a small night spot and danced a bit, then decided to return to the hotel. It was still early, only about 8 o’clock when we walked down the hall towards our rooms.

Julie had overdone her drinking a bit and I was helping her down the hall. She wasn’t sloppy drunk, but she was just a little tipsy, laughing and giggling as we entered her room. She used the bathroom, while I entered my room through the connecting door and called the front desk to check for any messages (just in case the boss checked up on us).

Having no messages, I kicked off my shoes to get comfortable, and returned to Julie’s room. She was looking out the window and as I came into the room, she waved me over excitedly.

“Take a look over there!”

(...)
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You see Jennie and I have been in South Africa for several years now, having moved from London back in 1995. We’re somewhat gay, and general prefer girl sex to any other kind. But have we also have always had this fantasy about doing it with a well hung black man.

Well about two weeks ago we received an envelope with a picture of a young good looking, tall Black stud who had a 10 inch cock and wanted to join us in our fantasy.

We contacted him and arranged to meet at our place the following night. When he arrived I thought Jennie was going to cum write there on the spot. His name was Frank and he was better looking in person than in his photo. I wanted to jump his bone right then and there.

(...)
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Then the phone calls started. Often about 8:30-9:00 on weekends the phone would ring and she would answer. She never really said much, but I noticed she would discretely begin to massage her tummy then gradually slide her hand down into her pants. Even her orgasms were really discrete. When questioned she said it was her sister. Then one night it happened. I was watching another TV went to get a drink and as I approached she was laid back in the recliner phone to her ear PJ top pulled up exposing her breasts, legs draped over both chair arms exposing her pussy. She was using her middle finger to work her clit and easily working three fingers in and out of her drenched cunt. I could tell by her moans she was close to cumming so I stood there quietly. After she came, all she said was yes and bye.

(...)
Read the rest of Watching My Wife (857 words)

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I met Sharon at a party about two years ago, and was immediately captivated by her looks as well as her personality. We started dating and fell in love. Soon after, we got married. She was well worth the pains of being separated from my male friends and the bevy of beauties that we kept in tow.

Sharon is a living doll. She is petite at about 5′-2″ tall with full firm 36C breasts and a beautiful heart- shaped ass. Her face is beautiful with full lips and an impish smile framing perfect white teeth. She has large oval shaped green eyes that hypnotize me and most other straight men. She has long wavy black hair that shimmers in the light. At twenty-eight, she is six years younger than I am.

She had married right out of school to her high school sweetheart before she realized that he was a real idiot trying to screw everything with two legs and a skirt. She dumped him unceremoniously per her account. She is independent and very intelligent. She is a good and compassionate person and a great lover.

She becomes very aggressive in bed after a few drinks. Alcohol makes her loose all inhibition. It doesn’t take much considering her size. She likes to dance at the local nightspots. The drinks would flow and she usually attacked me when we got home. She isn’t into fellatio but she does it for me to keep me happy. She always spits my load in the sink and brushes her teeth afterwards.

She fucks like a mink, however, and rides me like a cowgirl on a bucking bronco until my balls are drained. She seems happy with my seven inches and lovemaking has been a nightly (and sometimes daily) event.

Gary and I had been friends for about the last ten years. We were inseparable before my marriage and kept a large group of ladies happy for many years. He worked in sales and transferred to Texas shortly before I met Sharon. Gary had always been a ladies man. He was good- looking and a little taller than I was. The women always chased him and he made it a point to not let any one of them get their hooks into him.

(...)
Read the rest of Across The Living Room (5,238 words)

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