Stories Hub / Anal / Outsourcing


by PacoFear 09/21/09

Author's note: this is just a short, fun thing I put together while staring out at the lawn with a drink in my hand. No deep meaning here.

Outsourcing: his shrewd wife taps ready teen for booty duty


Dammit I love my wife.

Her name is Meredith and everybody calls her Merry. She's perfect. She works a full-time job as a management consultant. She cooks, cleans, does the laundry and the grocery shopping. She files our taxes and she walks my dog. She's a slim, dark haired twenty-seven year-old hottie that pounces on me for sex at least twice a week. Plus, she's smarter than me and she can deepthroat like a pro.

I don't deserve her. I'm not sure anyone does.

The sick part? I was still only 99% happy. So why the 1% hold-out? I'll be blunt: she wouldn't let me put it in her ass.

I know, I know, I'm an ungrateful bastard.

I'd tried everything to get her in mood for anal. Soft music. Massages. Long hot baths. Booze. Pot. We even tried ecstasy once.

But nothing worked, I heard the same things over and over.

"Exit only, honey."

"Why is your tongue in my butt again?"

"Slide that dick back up to the right hole or I'll break it off, Romeo."

It was driving me crazy.

I love my wife. She's gorgeous. I'm in lust with her fantastic little heart-shaped ass. It looks incredible in jeans. In fact, it's how we met. Nine years ago, I picked her up in the grocery store after following her swaying rump and swinging chestnut brown ponytail all the way through the market before working up the courage to ask her out.

We hit it off great. But I soon found out that her perfect tush was just for looking. No pokey-pokey. Or licky-licky. Maybe some rubby-rubby, but that was it.

Seven years of marriage later, I was going insane. Not being able to take advantage of my wife's callipygian gift was like owning a ferrari you're not allowed to drive. It just didn't seem right.

The funny part is that my wife was sympathetic. She actually felt bad about not being into anal. No way in hell she was going to do it, but she felt bad about it.

For my twenty-eighth birthday, she solved the problem. Did I mention that my wife is smarter than me? I think it was right before the part about her deepthroating like a pro.

It started about two months before my birthday. I came home from work and my wife was packing up a cardboard box. It had a really weird mix of stuff inside: chips, pretzels, socks, a roll of duct tape, a fuzzy pillow, some paper towels, a couple of bottles of wine and...

I looked closer...

A bottle of Astroglide? And a dildo? And a little buttplug? And a boxed set of DVD's titled "Assmaster's Vols. 1-6"?

"Uh, honey?" I reached down into the box to pick up the videos. I was amazed she even knew where to buy things like this.

My wife smacked my hand away. "Hey! It's not for you, Tom."

"Oh. So who's it for?"

"Sorry stud, can't tell you. I'm working on your birthday present."

"You're mailing someone else porn as part of my birthday present?"


"Riiiiight. I'm going to grab a beer and go sit on the back porch until I figure this out."

"Good luck," she smiled as she taped the box closed.

I couldn't figure it out.

Something suspiciously similar happened a month later. I had just mowed the lawn and I was taking a shower. My wife came into the bathroom with a digital camera. She took off her clothes, dug a disposable razor and a can of shaving cream out of the cabinet, and got in the shower with me.

I saw where this was going when she spread some shaving cream on my nuts.

"You haven't shaved my balls since our honeymoon."

"I want you to look good for some sexy pictures."

"So that's what the camera is for?"


She hummed to herself happily as she finished my sac and then shaved the patch above my shaft too. When she finished, she rinsed me clean and pulled me into her mouth for the deepthroat treatment.

Dammit I love my wife.

She bobbed and slurped on my seven inch pole and smiled up at me while she did it.

Then she popped her mouth free, turned off the water, and grabbed her camera. She used it to snap a few pics of my stiffy from different angles.

"Uh, honey. What do you plan on doing with these pictures?" I wondered.

"Can't tell you, I'm working on your birthday present."


She ditched the camera and came back to swallow me again. About two minutes later, I was grunting and spewing cum down her throat. She happily gulped over and over again until I finished.

Then she kissed the tip of my deflating dick and smacked me on the butt on her way out of the shower, "You're welcome."

"Was that part of my birthday present too?"

"Naah, that was just a blowjob."

She smiled as she picked her camera up and left.

"I'm going to figure this out," I yelled down the hall.

"Uh huh, good luck," I heard her laugh.

I couldn't figure it out.

What really threw me was when the delivery guys showed up at our house the next Saturday. They carted off our older washer and dryer and installed a set of new high-capacity, front-loading ones.

My wife came downstairs just in time to sign their paperwork.

"So what's with the new appliances, Merr?"

"Can't tell you, I'm working on..."

" birthday present," I sighed.

"Yep," she smiled brightly and leaned up on her tiptoes to kiss my nose, "Come on upstairs and fuck me as a thank you. You might as well get a head start. You'll have a lot of thank-me fucking to do after you get your present."

I fucked her. I had no idea what I was thanking her for. But I fucked her.

Finally, my goddamn birthday came. Nothing freaky happened in the morning. My wife and I both got ready for work like usual. She did give me a nice long smooch as we climbed into our cars and then she told me to get home from work as soon as I could.

Of course, it was an incredibly shitty day at work. Worse, traffic sucked on the way home. Fridays are always the ugliest where we live. It was after seven o'clock before I even pulled into the garage.

I had to step over a huge, unfamiliar duffle bag packed with dirty clothes laying in the laundry room. The spiffy new washing machine was already going. I made the turn into the kitchen and was happy and sad at the same time.

Happy because our old next-door neighbor's daughter was chatting with my wife. Dylan had always been a nice girl. Merry and I were the older brother and sister she never had. She used to hang out at our house all the time. We'd even given her a key.

Of course, Dylan had turned into a drop-dead hottie as she grew up too. The friendly and nosy ten year-old I'd met developed into a nubile young heartstopper before she moved away.

I looked at Dylan standing behind the counter next to my wife. Her dark blonde hair, big green eyes, and fit little tennis player's body were probably driving the guys at her college nutters.


"Happy birthday, Tommie!" she grinned. She bounced with excitement and I watched her perky chest bob up and down under her t-shirt. And yet she didn't run over to hug me like she used to.

Maybe she'd outgrown me or maybe I was an uncool old guy now. Well, I was nearing thirty. That bummed me out. Plus, Dylan's unannounced visit meant that whatever sexy fun my wife had planned for my birthday would have to wait.

I felt old. Old and horny. That's a crappy combo.

I had just about lost hope, but I still asked, "So Merr, can you at least tell me what you got me for my birthday?"

My wife pointed at Dylan, who was now practically vibrating with excitement. Her brassy blonde ponytail was twitching back and forth behind her head.

"Dylan has my birthday present?"

"No sweetie, she is your birthday present."

I looked at the still grinning teen, "You're my birthday present?"

"Yep, I'm your birthday present," she cheered, lifting her arms in the air.

Well, it was nice to see her again. Maybe we could go play some tennis tomorrow. Or maybe make a big pitcher of sangria and she could fill me in on the last year of her life since her folks moved away or...

That mental train fell right off the track when my wife nudged Dylan towards me and the grinning teen rounded the kitchen counter then bounded over for a hug, crushing her sleek little body into mine.

Huh? Dylan was naked from the waist down.

"Dylan, you're not wearing any pants."

"Nope, and I'm not going to be wearing any tomorrow or the next day, either. So..."

I looked at my wife over Dylan's shoulder. "Whoa, you win. As birthday presents go, having a half-naked coed wandering around our..."

My wife held up her hand and was biting her lip to fight back her laugh, "Hold on genius, you didn't let Dylan finish."

I looked back down at Dylan, she was smiling up at me as she waited patiently. "I was going to say that I'm not wearing any pants so you can fuck me whenever you want while I'm here for the weekend."

I felt woozy, the entire world rotated left about three degrees.

"But only?" My wife, looked at Dylan and arched an eyebrow.

"Oh yeah," Dylan nodded and smiled even brighter, "just in my butt though. Sorry, anal only. Merry's rule."

In the pause that stretched out after, the first thing I thought to do was look around for some hidden cameras. This had to be a joke.

"You're... you're serious?"

"Yep," they answered in stereo.

My wife made her "patient face" while she cracked open a few pistachios from a bowl on the counter. It's the face she makes when she explains stuff to me. One last time: she's smarter than me.

"You see love, I've done a lot of thinking about our anal sex problem. I'm just never going to like it. At one point, I was even looking into hypnosis. But the idea of paying some psychiatrist to put me to sleep and convince me that I liked it in the ass seemed too weird to go through with it."

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