My Fault

I guess the first time was more or less my fault. We'd been at a party, and we both had a few too many, but I insisted on driving anyway. Worse, I had taken a joint with me for later use—it had, after all, been years since I'd gotten stoned, and I realized that I missed it.

Jill wore one of those black halter top gowns made of a very light clingy material, and nothing underneath. She looks great these days—olive skin, auburn hair, flat tummy—and her dress hung like a curtain from her firm tits, dangling from her nipples and showing tantalizing glimpses of skin as she moved around. The knee-length dress showed off her long legs, and the color accentuated her auburn hair and dark eyes. A silver heart necklace with a single diamond drew attention straight to her cleavage.

She had me pretty fired up the entire night, and when I found out she was truly naked underneath, I grabbed the take-home joint and dragged her out to the car. On the way back to the hotel I stroked her thighs and teased her little boatman just enough to make her squirm. She was soaking wet, my hard on raged, and my balls were blue—I had to get her to our room before I exploded.

So I may have been a little tipsy from bourbon and Jill's scent when the car skidded on the ice in the parking lot and sideswiped the Vette. With more than a few shots of Maker's in me, and a joint in the car, I knew we couldn't let the owner call the cops. Hiding wouldn't work either, since he and his buddy saw the whole thing. I got out of the car.

"Man, I'm really sorry. Didn't realize the rain had frozen. I'll pay to fix the damage."

"It's OK," he said. "Nobody hurt. We'll just call the cops to get an accident report."

He was pretty young, maybe 27, and dressed well enough to make me think he had landed a good job out of college. He and his black friend were both buff model types; they brought to mind the young guys in the Cadillac commercial, who the older executive-types, upon seeing them get out of the new car, welcome them to the world of gentlemen. Gentleman or not, he hadn't aged enough to stop following Dad's advice about calling the cops after a fender bender for insurance purposes. I stuck out my hand to shake his.

"No need for that. My name is Ken. I can easily afford to have the damage fixed. Just take it in and send me the bill. Here's my card."

He shook my card and my hand, but he also shook his head. "Sorry, but I think we should call the police. This is my Dad's car, and..."

He looked at my card as he spoke, so I thought I might change his mind if I could get him to stop thinking about his father. "OK," I said. "But do we really want to hang out here in this freezing weather waiting for the cops? Let's just take a picture of the damage, and go from there. Trust me, I have the money to make it right."

I think he was about to give in when his buddy piped in. "Dude, what would you tell your Dad? He'll kill you if you bring his Vette back like this."

Now, I could have bought Dad a new Corvette on the spot. And it would be worth it to avoid a DUI and a pot bust. But I was beginning to wonder how I could convince this kid to trust me when Jill got out of the car.

"Everything OK, babe?" she asked.

"No worries," I told her. "Just a little scrape. I was just telling...what's your name?"

"Oh, sorry," he said, answering my question but looking—or should I say leering—at Jill. "I'm Paul. This is my partner Sam."

"Nice to meet you, Paul. Sam. This is my wife Jill." They both looked little Jill up and down, drinking her in. Her nipples stiffened in the cold and tented the thin material of her dress once again. She looked back and met Paul's eyes.

"Very nice to meet you both," Jill said. "Are you staying here at the hotel?"

It took Paul a moment to realize she had asked him a question, but he caught up. "Yes. We're right here in 106."

"Next door to us, then." Jill moved close enough Paul that he could hear her whisper, and said in a low voice, "Are we OK with just paying to fix your car? I would think we could find something better to do than get the police involved."

I have to admit this surprised me, but in retrospect I should have seen it coming. We met in college, and became fuck buddies, with what I would describe as a good friendship but no real romantic connection. Once she distracted a bouncer—who was about to wipe the floor of a bar with my drunk ass—by flashing her boobs, giving me time to exit with my teeth still in my mouth. I found out later that she gave him a blow job in the beer cooler while I got away. She always explored her sexuality, and used it to her (and my) advantage on occasion.

In school we both played the field, and she spent a good bit of time with a guy I played baseball with—real asshole, I thought, but I think she liked his bat. He was quite nicely hung, as I knew from our locker room time. She didn't seem to mind my somewhat more conventional equipment, though—she was as likely to show up at my door for some after hours fun as I was to knock on hers. One night I asked her why she fucked such a shithead, and she told me that baseball guy could press certain buttons a girl sometimes needs pushed, but his style was "one-dimensional." "It ain't the meat, it's the motion," she told me that night. "You have a much more expansive repertoire, if you know what I mean."

As far as I know Jill hasn't strayed since we married, several years later. If she has I don't think I really want to know as long as she stays with me. We are very happy together, and I had, after all, been willing to share her before. Besides, I've had a few flings during business trips over the years—always a simple matter of opening the door to opportunity when it knocked. I don't really have any general need or desire for variety—Jill and I fuck all the time and the sex is fantastic. She arouses easily, gets very wet, and comes in these cascading orgasms that leave her heart pounding and her breathing heavy. But I don't really see the sense in turning away a seductive woman if no one gets hurt. I suspect Jill feels the same way about men.

I stopped daydreaming when I saw Jill move her hand down to Paul's crotch and start rubbing his package. It looked like she was going to try to save me from myself again when she dropped the shoulder strap to expose her right breast.

"Why don't we talk inside? It's awful cold out here," she said to Paul. "And I'm sure we can figure out a way to make everyone happy."

Paul moved his hand to Jill's tit and cupped it in his palm. Her breasts are perky, and just about a hand full—it fit perfectly. The scene—a man fifteen years our junior groping my wife while she breathed heavily into his neck—warped my senses. I saw her as an erotic vision, a sexual experiment. What would it be like to watch her with these men?

Sam stared, as dumbfounded as I, as Jill reached into Paul's pants. "Mmm," she purred. "Yes, I think we can make everyone happy."

Paul began to kiss her as she fondled him, and Sam broke his reverie long enough to get a key out of his pocket and open the door. It was a typical hotel room, with two twin beds, a small desk, and one of those cheap denim covered easy chairs. I saw two small carry-on type suitcases on the floor, and a bottle of tequila next to the little four-cup coffee pot.

Once inside Jill backed Paul against the chair and started working the buttons on his shirt, from the top down. She lowered herself toward her knees as she opened his shirt, exposing a smooth chest and tight abs. "Damn flat belly," I thought to myself.

Kneeling now, Jill lowered Paul's zipper and freed his engorged cock. It looked thick and heavy, substantial; though only slightly longer than mine it was much thicker, especially at the base. He was not cut. My wife stroked it slowly, pulling the skin back from the head, admiring it, and squeezed a drop of clear precum from the tip. Her tongue flicked and it was gone. Paul gasped.

"Sit down," she said, looking up, looking up into his eyes. He backed onto the denim chair and lowered himself, careful not to pull his cock from Jill's hands. He pushed his shoes off with his feet, wiggling his legs to get out of his pants. Jill helped undress him, and moved between his legs, rubbing his thighs and looking at the underside of his dick. She licked it like a popsicle.

Paul took in a breath and stopped breathing as Jill took him into her mouth and started the blow job. She knows what she is doing, and he responded right away, arching his back and forcing himself a bit deeper into her mouth. She stroked him gently with one hand and fondled his balls with the other while licking, sucking, and nibbling lightly on the head of his cock.

After a few minutes, she lifted her head for a moment and spoke. "Mmmm, tasty. Getting hard, too. "

She went back down on him, taking him into her mouth and then pulling her head back, releasing the wet shaft. She would focus for a few seconds on the head, then take the entire shaft in again. I watched her hand, and her ring, stroking this young man's dick without jealousy. She worked her hand up and down his stiff shaft while she circled the head with her tongue.

"I want you to empty these beautiful balls down my throat, stud. I want you to come in my mouth," she said, and went back to work, a bit more fervently now. She made love to his dick with her mouth, taking the shaft in as deeply as she could, then withdrawing to suck lightly on the tip or flick her tongue along that ridge on the underside. His abs tensed and he arched his back, wanting to thrust himself into her mouth but enjoying the way she sucked and nibbled on his manhood.

"Come on, stud. Bathe my tongue with your come."

Sam and I stood watching for a moment, and then I turned to him and told him I needed a drink. He pointed to the bottle and kept watching my wife suck off his buddy. She looked quite amazing from my angle—with her black dress bunched around her waist I could see her little ass resting on her heels and her shoulders flex and relax as she moved her head up and down on Paul's manhood. I picked up the bottle, took a swig, and moved to the side for a better view.

Paul's dick was massive now, and throbbing, swollen and wet. Jill began stroking more rapidly and sucking lightly on the head as Paul tensed. He looked close, but Jill backed off a bit and looked up at his face. "God, this is a beautiful cock," she said. "So hard—I think you're almost ready. Do you want to come in my mouth? "

He nodded. I watched Jill once again take him into her mouth, moaning around the shaft as she began to finish him off. He was tense and going crazy, very close to coming and probably wanting to make it last. For some reason I really wanted him to enjoy this—I had forgotten about the car or about Jill being my wife. I was just incredibly aroused by watching her performance.

"Come on, stud," she said. "Empty those balls down my throat! I want your come in my mouth! I want to taste you!"

He began grunting, "Yes! Oh, God damn, I'm coming! Fuck, oh fuck!" Jill held his cock in her hands and circled the head with her mouth as he thrust up his hips and filled her mouth with his spunk. He rammed his hard cock down her throat as his spasms came in waves for a few moments and Jill swallowed again and again. None leaked out—she got it all, and the way he grunted and tensed it must have been a lot.

As he relaxed, she removed her mouth, swallowed once more, and began to lick his cock, squeezing out the last drops of come and licking them from the head. "Did that feel good?"

"Fuckin'-A!" he grinned. His dick did not soften as she cleaned him up with her mouth and continued stroking him while he calmed down. He leaned back in the chair and breathed deeply even after Jill stopped playing with his dick and stood up.

She turned toward me smiling, as I took in the sight of my wife's tousled hair and flushed face. Her dress hung from one strap, with her left breast exposed, the nipple at attention. Before I could move she wrapped her arms around me and kissed me full on the lips. I caught the scent of Paul's cock on her face and tasted his sperm as she invaded my mouth with her tongue. My own dick grew even harder when she whispered "Be right back" in my ear and moved away toward Sam.

I hadn't noticed that Sam had dropped his pants, and now sat on the bed wearing only his open dress shirt, with his cock in one hand and the tequila bottle in the other. Paul was buff, but this guy was cut like a star athlete, not an ounce of fat on him that I could see. Jill took the bottle from him and took a good swig, then handed it to me, and I washed the taste of Paul's sperm out of my mouth with Cuervo.

"Your turn," she said, staring at Sam's thick pole. His dick was even fatter than Paul, and the thickness did not taper off at the head, which was quite large. He was not cut, but he was so hard that the foreskin did not cover much of anything. He was also longer than Paul—this was a very well-hung young man.

He stood and took Jill into his arms, and as she wrapped her hands around his shaft I heard her moan. She stroked it a bit as she kissed Sam's chest and took a nipple into her mouth. He massaged her breast and reached a finger down to her pussy. When he stroked her, her legs trembled.

"That looks like fun," he said. "But I have something else in mind." Jill's looked up at him for a moment, came to a decision, and allowed him to move her to the edge of the bed, facing it. He stood behind her and pushed the strap holding her dress up off her shoulder, then ran his hands down the front of her body, across her breasts and under her dress to her mound. Jill gasped when he found his mark, and leaned back into him as he began stroking. She seemed to melt, and I saw her shudder as her orgasm began to build.

I could have pounded railroad spikes with my hard on, but for some reason I had remained dressed. Perhaps I needed to keep my clothes on to maintain the illusion that this was just some fantasy show, a trick of my mind—that my wife was not about to service these two young strangers to keep them from calling the cops. I was still not jealous, and the idea that this might affect our marriage was only just now beginning to creep into my thoughts.

Jill leaned forward and placed her hands on the bed, and Sam lifted her dress so that it was now bunched around her waist. She spread her legs slightly, and I could see her pussy open as she prepared herself for Sam to fuck her. He moved between her legs and slid his cock along her slit. Jill reached one hand up and held the shaft against her clit as he moved slowly back and forth.

"Man, this girl is soaking wet," he said, looking first at Paul and then at me. "I think she wants to fuck."

"Yes," Jill whispered.

Sam continued slowly moving the shaft of his hard cock back and forth across Jill's clit. "Did you say you want me to fuck you?" he asked. "I don't want to rape anyone."

"Yes, I want you to fuck me," Jill whispered. "I want you inside me. I want to feel you inside me."

Sam withdrew far enough to position the head of her cock between the lips of Jill's pussy, and then moved forward slightly. Her hand pushed him upward so he would not slip along her slit, and I could see the head of his fat dick push into my wife. He slid in easily, about half way to his balls, and stopped. Jill was breathing deeply now, and pushing back against him, but he held her hips and withdrew again, toying with her slit with the head of his cock. I knew from experience that Jill would climax when he filled her pussy with his erection, and that his teasing would make it more intense.

For a moment Sam made short movements, continuing his teasing, while he stroked Jill's back and rib cage. Jill is quite athletic herself—nothing droops when she gets on her hands and knees—and I could see her muscles tense and her legs tremble as Sam stroked her and she anticipated his eventual invasion of her now very wet and very inviting pussy.

Finally I saw his hips flex and he pushed slowly into her without stopping until he was balls deep. Jill came, hard, and I knew Sam was feeling her insides grow very hot and wet. Jill is a gusher, and she let loose a wave as Sam filled her tight little pussy with more cock than she had had since college. For the first time since hitting Paul's car I got a pang of concern. I knew that my Jill had enjoyed well-endowed men before our marriage, and the look on her face when Sam filled her with his cock made me suddenly worry that she might have rediscovered a lost passion.

Sam had stopped to wait for Jill to finish coming, and as she relaxed he began to slowly stroke his full length in and out of her. His shaft glistened with her wetness, and as he withdrew the head I could see her pussy lips parted and her thighs moist with her come. Sam fucked her slowly for about five minutes, giving her another orgasm, and then increased his pace.

"Oh, God, yes, fuck me with that beautiful cock. Slap those balls against my ass. Fuck me good stud, gimme that hard cock." As Sam increased his tempo, Jill came again, but this time he kept fucking her right through it, and brought on another right behind it.

Jill comes easily, and when she gets going the orgasms come in waves. Sam was stroking parts of her pussy I could not get to, and it was definitely working for her. She came several times in a row and then reached back and stopped Sam's thrusting. She needed a break.

Sam pulled back and flipped Jill over, laying her on her back on the edge of the bed. Stepping between her legs he spread them, exposing a very wet, very wide open pussy and an engorged clitoris. Jill lay there, looking up at her new lover, her arms spread eagled, her chest heaving as she caught her breath.

"Don't stop now, stud, you're on a roll," she said, reaching for his cock and placing the head between her pussy lips. She loves this position for the angle it gives my cock and the view she gets of me fucking her. I knew she was going to love watching this very attractive young black man pump his hard manhood in and out of her, and that it would make her come a few more times.

I watched as Sam pushed his very hard cock into my wife once again, and I saw her back arch as she began building to still another orgasm. He stroked her breasts and ribs with his large hands, and then slid them under her ass and pulled it off the bed toward him. As he did this, Jill wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him toward her with his feet.

Sam looked at me and said, "This is one fine piece of pussy you have here, Ken. I'm not sure I would be sharing it."

I knew Jill would not appreciate anyone thinking they owned her. I looked at her, legs wide open for this young black man, enjoying the fucking he was giving her. I said, "It's not my pussy to share, man. Jill is my wife, but not my property. She can fuck anyone she wants." She gave me a look that said, "Right answer."

He arched his eyebrow as he considered this, and then returned his attention to Jill. My wife comes a lot, and she can go on for a while, but I knew that she would want a break soon and Sam seemed to sense this as well. He stroked a few more times and then buried himself balls deep inside Jill once again.

"I'm about to bust a nut," he said, looking down into Jill's eyes. "Where do you want it?"

She looked up at him and lifted her head off the bed so she could look him closely in the eye. "I want you to come inside me, you sexy motherfucker! Fill my hot little pussy with your come, stud! Come on, give it to me!"

I had watched my wife service these two young men in such a detached way that it had not occurred to me that condoms might be a good idea. We had never used them because we both hate the way they feel, but I suddenly realized that this young black stud was fucking my wife bareback, and she was begging him to come inside her pussy. "Too late now," I said to myself. Jill was on the pill, and I knew she would not hesitate to use a morning-after pill to make sure she did not get knocked up. Besides, it somehow aroused me to think of my wife as a sexual being outside our marriage, to know that another man was about to dump a load of sperm inside her while I watched.