Jade: My Story

[Chrislydi]

For me Professor Stretch and his rougher looking underlings were akin to the university of life finishing school, the final paint of gloss added to carefully applied layers of undercoat bringing out the animal instincts within. The final model lovingly crafted and nurtured in the sensual arts of seduction that are now such an integral part of her, with an itch that needs scratching but can never be eradicated.

Jade has now left her university of life but found that itch is a legacy that needs constant attention, wait too long and the compulsion to scratch it becomes all-enveloping. Poor Walker sees how forlorn his love is and does his utmost to satisfy but just hasn't the thickness needed, Jade is compelled to look elsewhere but then it's what all her training has been about since way back when and our South Carolina gentleman Jeff. She pleads with Walker about doing a postgraduate course with the Professor and his boys but Walker is scared now to leave her lest she doesn't come back. It's at this point the real journey of life begins, no Stretch to guide anymore but an intuitive and determined woman, a new Jade armed with the wiles and feminine instincts, the knowledge of how to flirt and the techniques on how to single out her prey. This is a predator, a mythical superwoman with a hunger that needs satisfying. A new, improved and independent Jade, conscious of Walker's needs but also those of her own.

Chris

[rascalnvixen]

I like the progression of her story!!! A careful and considerate partner but still aware of her slutty needs is a great vehicle to let her go for the gusto she craves. Looking forward to the next chapter/adventure!!! Your writing style really draws the reader into the story. It's easy to forget this is a fiction work based on some reality!

Rascal

[BDJ]

Rascal wrote, " It's easy to forget this is a fiction work based on some reality!"

I was hoping you were going to say: It's easy to forget this is a fiction work written by a man! You have no idea how much I have to consult with the real 'Jade'...especially about the sex scenes!

[BDJ]

Chris,
Jade's behavior just goes to show how getting royally fucked by a guy with a really big dick can make even the most loving, affectionate mate lose sight of what's real and who's important. Stretch/Jade...Jack/Cath. It wasn't an intentional comparison but I've been reading your story (again!) and couldn't help see the similarities.

[BDJ]

Johng1953.

If YOU had played pool with Jade I doubt it scene would have ended the same. When that small hand slipped down your pants...well, Walker has been forgotten about before.

[rascalnvixen]

Rascal wrote, " It's easy to forget this is a fiction work based on some reality!"

I was hoping you were going to say: It's easy to forget this is a fiction work written by a man! You have no idea how much I have to consult with the real 'Jade'...especially about the sex scenes!

Yes, that is true!! I have to keep reminding myself when I get my head back into the idea that this is a story that it is a guy writing it!!! So, many twists!! But the scenes are interesting and sexy from a guys viewpoint which is probably why the guys here like your writing. How do the ladies here like the stories????

Rascal

[BDJ]

Rascal,
I know of one lady who does.

[BDJ]

That first bar visit caused a lot of hot bedroom action so we continued when we had the time. It wasn’t as if it was the main focus of our life; my work always came first and Walker spent his days at the college. But I had to admit I’d find myself daydreaming sometimes about that hunky tree-cutter, wishing he had been better endowed. My pussy would tingle at the memory of how it felt to turn into a vamp…so different from the real me. Nobody would ever guess I could act that way. That’s what made it so much fun. But at those places, far from home, once I’d spent a little time flirting, playing pool, and dancing, I became a different woman. And, even though we went to a different town, and months sometimes passed between visits, it was inevitable that rumors would precede me. I had been felt up too many times—and my hand had been down too many pants. Within an hour the whispers of my easy availability caused a shift in the behavior of my would-be paramours—some became more brazen in their approach. It was something Walker had anticipated and we had discussed beforehand, deciding he’d step in if I thought a situation was getting out of control.

One night, though, was different…and changed everything. We were standing together beside the bar when a rough looking character—younger than us—approached us and dismissively demanded, “I heard about you. Come-on, we gonna dance.” His voice, gravely from too many cigarettes, held a slight slur. He wasn’t a sexy man. The best way to describe him was medium: height, hair, and build. He was dressed in ill-fitting pants and a shirt left untucked; the sleeves rolled halfway up his hairy arms. Stubble from several days’ growth couldn’t hide the scar on his cheek. And while not fat he was getting a noticeable paunch. Now he turned a defiant face to Walker; a man more muscular and much taller, challenging him to say no—not me--it was if I wasn’t there.

I just stared at him…and found myself holding my breath. He radiated a kind of angry defiance that immediately held me in thrall. A tingle started in my pussy and I could feel my nipples beginning to get hard. I glanced at Walker and saw he wasn’t impressed by his macho demeanor. He just crossed his arms and shrugged in a disinterested manner. So I understood it was my call. My admirer must have mis-interpreted the gesture because the decision was taken from me: he took my hand firmly in his, turned and walked away. I was so startled I didn’t resist, but meekly followed, my pussy quivering. When we got on the dance floor he put both hands on my waist so I responded by putting mine on his arms. We didn’t say a word to each other, just circled slowly to the beat of the music for a few minutes: him looking hungrily at me, seeming to barely contain himself. Oddly, I wasn’t fearful, in fact, I was becoming aroused by his almost palpable need.

I decided to smile at him, just to see what would happen. It was immediate. He grabbed my ass and pulled me roughly up against him. The sudden, almost violent gesture startled me. That changed to surprise when I felt it. Unable to believe what was pressing against me I reached down to cup his bulge. My mind flashed back to another time when I’d felt a cock that fat: Jeff, my lover from Charleston. Then memories of my days with Stretch and his friends tumbled through my brain. That was all it took—the switch had been flipped, turning me into a bitch in heat—my pussy suddenly, insistently pulsated in anticipation. The sneer on his face didn’t deter me, I put my arms around his neck and pulled his head down. It was his turn to be surprised. I kissed him—hard—pushing up against him, desperate to feel every inch of his oversized tool. He responded: his rough hands slid down my thighs, then hoisted my skirt up as he grabbed my buttocks. In an instant my ass was visible to all. We stood still, my tongue finding his, dueling with it. The room disappeared, our sudden passion now my entire world. He broke our kiss and looked down at my chest, then began to insistently tug at the opening of my flimsy blouse; his hot breath washing over me. Afraid he’d tear the buttons off I leaned my torso back and unfastened them myself, looking him in the eye, letting him know I wanted it. All this done in an instant, in the middle of the smokily lit dance floor; the other couples around us stopping to stare at the sudden action taking place among them. He shoved the fabric impatiently aside and grabbed my breast and squeezed it, painfully, before roughly twisting my nipple. A charge of erotic energy traveled from my abused teat to my rapidly pulsating pussy. Gasps of fevered breath escaped my partially open mouth, my vagina suddenly wet with want.

I gave a fleeting glance at Walker watching me, hoping he saw my excitement: the recognition that I had finally found my man. Instead he was startled—a look of concern etching his brow—upset this guy was so aggressively groping me; exposing me in front of everyone. He started to come over. Alarmed, I shook my head vigorously, silently pleading for him not to intervene. Walker halted in his tracks, looking confused. I switched my attention back to my would-be suitor, his countenance now that of a predator—his prey captured; held firmly in his grip. Abruptly he moved off the dance floor, dragging me with him. My blouse remained agape, exposing a hard pink nipple for all to see as he pulled me out of the bar. As I passed through a gauntlet of men who had been watching us, I noticed them also staring at Walker: his posture rigid, his fists clenched. I was so relieved he was respecting my decision. But I could also see that those men couldn’t believe he would give his woman up so easily: to stand by while I succumbed to the advances of a pot-bellied good-ole-boy.

I didn’t protest at being led away from the building by that insolent Lothario, his calloused hand firmly clutching my ass. Instead I glued myself to him, quivering with anticipation as he took me to his pickup, parked away from the bar’s entrance but still lit well enough for anyone to see. My loving, ever protective husband followed behind: I knew he’d wait close by while the deed was done. I was almost shoved inside when we got to his truck. Mister fat cock followed, leaving the door wide open. Good, I thought, Walker could see—and more importantly—hear. I was almost immediately attacked: smothered with sloppy kisses before he paused to remove his shirt, proudly showing me his hairy chest. I pulled my blouse off in response and discarded it atop his on the dirty floorboard. For a moment he just stared at me: my chest heaving, eyes ablaze, ready to be taken by this piece of white trash.

When he started in on me again I fought him, trying to gain control. He looked confused until he saw I was intent on getting his pants off. Taking over then, he quickly completed the task. The sight of his cock made me drool: wide from base to tip, every bit as large and stiff as I had envisioned. His scrotum and balls hung low, huge. I hoped they were full of cum: I wanted to taste it, to feel the warm pulsations in my needy pussy as it filled me. But now I wanted it in my mouth. I opened wide—desperate to engulf the whole thing—unsure it would fit. Though barely able to get it past my lips, nevertheless I tried, choking, trying again, this time because he had grabbed each side of my head and was forcing it. Tears welled up and flowed freely down my cheeks as I stretched my mouth further, the bulbous head reaching deeper now. One hand was between my legs, rubbing my clitoris: the jolts of pleasure radiating from it somehow counterbalancing the choking distress taking place in my throat. He fucked me then, his cock making me gag at the end of each thrust. Then I had relief as that oversized column of flesh was withdrawn from my mouth. I was still gasping, trying to get my breath back, when he pushed me hard against the passenger door. It splayed me open, one leg awkwardly still on the seat, blocking him from coming closer. He grabbed my ankle, then jerked me to him, grabbed my torso, then brought his greedy mouth to my heaving breasts. My super-erect nipples spoke of my eagerness to be subdued. I reveled in my nakedness, a woman wanting more, craven in my need for the rigid cock now in my hands.

I made sure Walker could hear my excitement as my tits were being sucked—my nipples painfully bitten and pinched. Next he ripped my tight skirt in an attempt to get it out of the way—to pull it up around my waist. Then, like a bull seeing a fluttering red object, he focused on my vulva, barely visible below my hairless mound. He grabbed my thighs, lifting me upward toward his lowering head. I was completely helpless in his grip, his course whiskers scraping my sensitive skin as his tongue found my wet, engorged slit. It set me on fire, my body jerking at each pulling bite on my protruding inner lips. Pain and pleasure mingled in my mind as I was assaulted. I gasped loudly when he found my distended clit and used it—not to lovingly stimulate but to suck on it hard, pulling it with his teeth. Then his mouth once again covered my engorged opening; his tongue delving deep into my pussy, lapping up my sweet nectar. I almost fainted it felt so good.

Such was my fevered state I completely forgot about Walker: unable to think past the barrage of sensations now sweeping through my body. Nothing else mattered: I was incapable of even remembering he was near, much less caring if he shared my pleasure.

Once my crass redneck had gotten his fill eating my pussy he dropped me back on the seat and rose above me, one leg braced on the floorboard, his knee between my legs. I could tell he was proud of himself; of his thick, tumescent member arching up from his hairy groin, its stallion-like rounded head already dripping precum. He paused, nostrils flaring, savoring the moment before he took me. I returned his glare, my face contorted with desire: I ached for him to use my naked body. I was wanton, without shame. He saw it, recognized my need…and sneered at me as he waited to give me what I wanted, taunting me, “Beg for it. Say you wanna get fucked by a real man,” then reached down and twisted my nipple. I winced, the shock of it radiating through my body. I didn’t answer right away, lost to the sudden stab of pain—savoring it. “Beg,” he demanded again. Then his words got through to my addled brain. As if detached from my body, I heard myself pleading, “I need it——Do it, dammit! FUCK ME!!” I pinched and twisted my nipples, unable to tolerate a cessation in the sharp, intense sensations that had defined his use of me so far. He laughed, enjoying his power over me, eager to gloat over his new possession. “You want me more than that pussy man you was with?” When I didn’t answer quickly enough he shouted, “DON’T YOU?” I knew what he was asking, conflicted because I was aware Walker could hear. Still, my attention remained focused on that fat, meaty cock. My need for it took away all reason, all restraint. It almost hurt to want it so much. “Yes, yes!!” I screamed, sobbing, unable to keep my husband from hearing my crass betrayal, “I need a real man!!!”

Satisfied, he declared loudly, also knowing who could hear, “You MY bitch now!”

Then he descended, lowering himself, mounting me, pressing his flabby belly against my taunt stomach…then roughly entered me, making no effort to ease the passage of his thick dick into my ready cunt. He slammed into me—-again—-then a third time before bottoming out. Pain radiated from my pussy at each thrust, but I was past caring: joyous I was finally getting what I had longed for. I raised my hips in concert with his jabbing cock, trying to get it in deeper, my pussy expanding, getting wetter: my jangled nerves sending me higher every time his balls slapped my asscheeks. The longer it went on the more brutal it got—the intensity of it causing us to sweat profusely. Then I was floating—senses supersaturated by it all—what I wanted so badly: being helpless under this arrogant insensitive lout, having my already sore pussy stretched, filled so violently over and over. Fully surrendering, I lost all sense of myself, consumed by my screaming orgasm. Jerking, flailing about, it’s intensity triggering more until my mind was finally detached from any fragment of reality. They tore through me with increasing frequency. I was lost to the power of his thrusting manhood. It was like I had turned into a wild animal: scratching his back, my legs wrapped tightly around his torso, ankles locked. “Take it whore,” were the last words I heard him say. I bit him in response. Somehow I stayed conscious to the end, despite being half smothered by the smelly, despicable bastard: his erupting cock flooded my pussy—the feeling so intense it curled my toes, made my unseeing eyes fly wide open.

Still surfing a powerful wave of euphoria I exited that cramped space after he released me—not bothering to put on my blouse or pull down my skirt—proudly showing Walker my bruised tits, my still engorged nipples. As I slowly walked over to him, almost in a daze, I sensed my hand reaching between my legs, gathering, then lifting my arm, outstretched, showing…no offering him some of the cum that had so recently been sent swimming into my womb. That sticky liquid was already beginning to drip down my legs: visible evidence I was his possession now…and of what it took to scratch my itch.

[Johng1953]

Well! What can I say! My tentative suggestion she might want to resume seeing Stretch was (I'm glad to say now) way off the mark. Poor old Walker, 'betrayed ' again!
I'm really hoping now the night that 'changed everything ' wasn't a one off especially as her paramour (whoever he is!) she compared to Jeff.

[Chrislydi]

This was an exhilarating ride aboard a high speed carriage with a woman possessed by a power and a need that's been evolving at pace, something not fully understood as yet but mentally and physically felt, and at times wanted above all else. It's become a must have at all costs because she's realised her full potential as a sexual goddess, one who's experienced heaven on earth and needs to revisit regularly to silence that growing itch that maddens beyond mere irritation.

For Walker, their play has led to some really hot bedroom action with this life giving all the rewards he craved as her steadying and adoring rock and wingman. He's now the one who reads the signals and takes action where needed, always being on hand to follow instructions. I've followed Jade's progress right from the start, Jeff the Charleston gentleman who started her on the path of sensual pleasure to Stretch and his rougher big dicked and literally talented and hungry fuckers. After she discovered the wanton vamp switch that unlocked her path to sexual paradise and satisfying her growing neediness, this was always the natural progression, her reputation spreading, her compulsive wantoness unbridled, there always had to be a resultant end game, or a climb to a completely new level. Walker showed what an immensely strong character he has, and his great and unselfishly boundless love for Jade by allowing the progression, to see her violently shake her head as he moved in to intervene was enough to hold back, he was true to his principles about allowing Jade to grow by satisfying every urge, for her to experience her nirvana and then with Walker take their relationship to greater and even more erotic heights.

For me Jade is a truly remarkable woman, she's initially followed a route to satisfy her beloved husband's greatest fantasies and made them become her own to fully embrace it with longing and enthusiasm. It's a journey they've shared together that has strengthened their bond, it's become one of mutual understanding, a quest shared with the rewards for both being afterwards in the hot bedroom action now beyond comparison. Jade has always been, and at heart remains, that caring and affectionate woman Walker first met, and now loves her husband more than ever. It was at his instigation she put her own inclinations aside and travelled this journey, it's brought them a shared happiness far beyond the norm and is now nothing but a strong and lasting relationship fully blossoming into flower

A huge thank you to BDJ for his great skill and wonderful prose in relating such a difficult and life changing step, fiction it maybe but there are real emotions in there that couldn't have been but felt and experienced to the full. His wife obviously helped enormously, and far more than that, she must have all but written large sections herself as how could any mere man have told of Jade's emotions otherwise? This was writing once again that scaled the heights of excellence, but then excellence and the writings of BDJ have become synonymous recently.

Chris

[BDJ]

John and Chris,

Thanks for the praise, I do my best. That scene has been evolving for months and I have you, Chris, and John Jassons to thank for it. I love the way Cath is described and her character revealed in your post. John J's descriptions of the inner workings of the female mind are unsurpassed and his admonishment for me to focus on Jade's thoughts transformational. And, while my core story is based on our experiences, I'd like to think I can keep people guessing as to which is fact or fiction (or a little of both?)

[BDJ]

Walker was silent as we traveled back to the hotel, then blew up at me when we got to our room, repelled at how I had acted. He had never been so mad with me. With smoldering eyes I told him how it felt to be taken—so completely dominated—by that jerk: his cock stretching my pussy to the point of pain and beyond. I stamped my feet in frustration, my fists clenched, almost spitting; telling him he just didn’t understand. “You know what it’s like to get in my tight cunt,” I shouted, “Well, it felt like that, but a hundred times better than yours.” I was trying to hurt him—I was so frustrated he couldn’t understand. His startled look made me back off quickly. “I’m sorry Walker, I didn’t mean that, it’s just so hard trying to describe what he did to me.” It fell on deaf ears, his face a stony-faced mask now. I grabbed a pillow and locked myself in the bathroom, intent on staying away, to keep from arguing any more…so mad I couldn’t make him understand. It was a miserable night, cum leaking out of my sore pussy, my muscles cramped by having to sleep in the bathtub.

By morning I had returned to sanity and was now as mortified as he at my behavior. I apologized profusely, but the exhilaration I had gotten from being completely dominated hadn’t gone away. I chose to be honest with Walker about that, even though the admission wasn’t helpful in repairing the feelings of betrayal he still felt from seeing me succumb to that scumbag. For days we barely spoke to each other. Tearful apologies didn’t reach him. Finally, during another spat about my behavior, I reminded him that I would never have craved cocks of that size if he hadn’t convinced me to play the game in Charleston, or egged me on with Stretch. That got through to him. Guilt, I discovered, even with someone as dispassionate and analytical as my husband, could be powerfully persuasive…and I was willing to use it to get his forgiveness. It was a hollow victory, I realized, when he reminded me I hadn’t earned it. But at least we could talk together again without arguing.

We did, though, come to grips—maybe—with my need for the type of sex I’d had with the fat-cocked redneck. It occurred after I had described a disturbing dream that had begun reoccurring. As a rule I always passed those nocturnal meanderings off as just a curiosity, hardly remembered a few minutes after I had wakened. But this one seemed different, staying with me for a long time. When I mentioned it during breakfast one morning a few months after we’d made up Walker got interested and wanted to know all the details. “Well,” I began, “My mother and I were in the kitchen. I must have been a little girl because I could just see over the stovetop. The red glow of the electric heating element fascinated me. I reached up, touched it and got burned. The pain was intense and I cried. My mother soothed it with an ice cube, telling me not to do it again. But it was as if I couldn’t help myself. As soon as her back was turned I reached for it. That’s when I’d wake up.” The quiet in the kitchen was broken by some birds singing, their song a counterpoint of cheer to that upsetting memory. Finally Walker spoke, his voice measured: “It sounds like your subconscious is warning you of a danger in your life. It is a classic description of a compulsion.” He paused, then continued, his stare making me feel uneasy. “I think it’s referring to your itch, as you’ve called it. That need for a big cock to screw you into submission. You know, don’t you, that’s what happened last time; you wanted it so bad you forgot about everything, even me, when he fucked you.”

I just nodded my head, recognizing what he said as true but also of my helplessness when the urge hit me. Still, he expected an answer…so I lied. “And I could see that after I could think straight again. If you hadn’t been there I might have gone home with him. I guess staying with Stretch wasn’t such a good idea after all. But I think I’m over it now, I’m pretty sure I’ve gotten it out of my system.” I paused, trying to get my words straight, “The other part I still like doing. You’ve got to agree it was a real turn-on for both of us when I acted slutty. I want to do that some more—just sometimes—you know, to help keep it hot in bed for us.” He was dubious about continuing, I could tell, after seeing a look of stoic resignation on his face. I returned his gaze, pleading for understanding with my eyes. Finally he nodded his head in acceptance. I tried not to show my excitement at my win.

Again, when we were back in one of those honky-tonk bars, I got the thrill of a strange man feeling me up, of checking out his package, always hopeful I would find another monster cock hiding there. I was so caught up looking I think I would have been willing to go on searching forever, even as Walker grew tired of waiting in places he despised; his enjoyment ever diminishing the more he was relegated to the position of caretaker. We started to argue again: only by giving him my ass more frequently did I convince him to continue. It could have ended our marriage; probably would have given enough time, if it hadn’t been for an unanticipated trip I was offered…and the man I met at my destination.

[BDJ]

Part 2: Redemption

My wild bar forays during the period after I returned from Nashville hadn’t keep me from working hard as requests for my pieces increased; and even though I was mostly interested in sculpting the female form, for some reason small towns in the rural south chose to liven up their street corners with farm animals. That type of work lasted, off and on, for almost four years. I was beginning to fear my professional reputation would become defined by it. But luckily I acquired a patron; a wealthy expatriate Brit who wanted to remember his recently deceased wife with a bronze bust. That, in turn, led to a commission to be placed in his hometown of Southport, at the astronomical observatory in Hesketh Park. The figure depicted a girl, telescope in her hands, preparing to gaze up at the night sky—a modern young Galileo.

This work was almost completed when my pussy got filled by that fat-cocked illiterate. I was finishing it during Walker’s disillusionment of our bar visits. The holidays were coming on and I had reluctantly agreed to an extended pause until after the new year began. Then I’d have to endure another delay because, at my benefactor’s suggestion, I chose accompany the work and represent him at the ceremony. Concerned because he saw too much fatigue in my face, he insisted I use his cottage in Hillside for a month. I wasn’t sure I could stand it: to wait so long before beginning my search again. But my benefactor had been so generous; had paid for my passage over and had also extended that largesse to Walker. Unfortunately, he couldn’t afford to be absent so long at the beginning of a school term. It looked like I was going to be alone for longer than I had been since Walker has left me for eight weeks the first year of our marriage—when I first learned to flirt. I wondered it I was up for it.

On the long flight over I had ample time to reflect on the problems in my marriage. That I had lied and led Walker to believe I was over my need to be dominated by a fat cock: it preyed on my mind. But all that was forgotten after landing and going through customs. I was reminded of a misconception I had in my youth; that people were the same everywhere in the world. The British, I quickly observed, were unique in that they were polite to a fault. I found that out when I ventured alone into my patron’s old rugby club after attending a match the day after I’d arrived. He had set it up for me to be his guest, saying I couldn’t understand the culture unless I was exposed to the men who were so passionate about that game. I’m not sure what I expected but was delighted to be faced with a lively venue, full of laughter. A group of people, mostly couples, were having a high old time drinking and dancing. I had a moment of nostalgia, oddly thinking of the swinger parties Walker and I had attended, when a friendly camaraderie prevailed even though we were mostly strangers. I had liked that almost better than the sex. Then, as I was finishing my meal at the bar, the focus of my attention shifted, including now a really handsome man. I immediately felt a tingle in my pussy when I got a good look at him after he suddenly appeared beside me: quickly bantering with the barman as he ordered a round of drinks. My dream man was tall, about the same height as Walker, but that was where the similarity ended. I grew up in the rural South, where our speech and mannerisms were often made fun of by people from the North. Seeing this yummy man, so sexy in my eyes, brought to mind a unique idiom my Aunt Ella used when referring to a particularly well put together muscular man: he was built like a brick shithouse. This man certainly fit that description.

Suddenly I was self-conscious, wondering what he would think of a short, slim, raven-haired woman—fatigue from work and the long flight over still writ large across my features. Despite the fact I hadn’t even spoken to him, and might not even be noticed, my heart began to beat rapidly. I wanted to touch him, to feel the pulsation in my pussy I knew I’d get if I did. All my thoughts, though, were swept away when he turned his radiant smile on me and simply said hello. “I’m Jade,” I said in responding to his request to know more about me, “here to install a sculpture and vacation for awhile.” My accent charmed him and he enthusiastically recalled his visit to Wilmington, North Carolina years earlier. That established an instant rapport between us as Walker grew up near there. We chatted for the few minutes it took for his drinks to be prepared. That was long enough for him to quickly become a friend concerned about my being alone, then being determined to see me join his group.

Normally I can quickly detect the type of interest a man has in me, but with Chris I was unsure: was he checking me out or was what I felt just a coloration of my immediate lust for him? To find out I undid an additional button past the acceptable two on my blouse in the toilet, only to be embarrassed when, at my approach, he introduced me to his wife Cath. Before our eyes locked in mutual examination, I sensed she had taken my measure, aware of my little ploy. Suddenly mortified, I tried to turn away, but he took my hand and immediately sat me by his side. Later I noticed Cath on the dance floor often with just one person. He was an even more impressive hunk than Chris. Aunt Ella would have fanned herself, feigning faintness, then given him her highest rating: a brick shithouse with hot and cold running water. Captivated by their obvious chemistry I watched as their moves naturally complimented each other. Then he suddenly twirled her around, causing her loose skirt to flare wide, highlighting long, slender legs that seemed to go on forever, giving us a hint of her small panty-covered ass. She laughed, then moved out, turned her back and pushed in against his groin. There was no hiding the look on her face as she glanced over her shoulder. This was getting intimate, I thought: she knows exactly what she’s doing…and the effect her butt must be having. This guy must be special.

I found out when Cath introduced us. Jack took my hand and his touch caused my pussy to immediately react. I felt my nipples stiffen, placing themselves on display before this sexy man. No woman, I thought, would be able to resist him for long if he wanted her, so palpable was the animal magnetism surrounding him. It helped me understand what Cath must be feeling after their teasingly erotic dance. We chatted for only a moment, plenty of time for me to also fall under his spell. Desperate to continue our conversation, I asked him, gesturing to the room at large, “Are all the men in England this well built?” He laughed uproariously, winked at me and said only them. Then he issued an invitation to watch him dominate the other team in the following weeks. I just smiled, but made a mental note to do just that. But the longer I was around him the more I realized he only had eyes for Cath; and she for him. It caused me to examine Chris obliquely, to judge his reaction to his wife acting a little like an awestruck schoolgirl. Oddly, he seemed just fine with it. I could understand why she was so smitten; being in Jack’s presence was like having a klieg light turned on you.

Chris, on the other hand, didn’t overwhelm my senses when I was close to him. It was more like water being brought to a slow boil: my breath would catch in my throat when he graced me with his smile, I’d get a tingle over his hand touching my arm in conversation, finally I felt my pussy quiver, slowly turning into needy pulsations when I was in his arms—just the once that evening—being led through a slow song. The deeper I fell under his spell the more I wanted him to know what I was feeling—maybe he did, it could have been he was too much a gentleman to show it. His primary task, it seemed, was to put me at ease—to see I was enjoying myself. And I was. Beyond being immediately smitten with two men, the rest of the evening was like many I’d spent in the dinner clubs Walker and I had once visited. As I relaxed I began to have a good time. Soon I was swept up in the gaiety of this little group and danced with many of the men. I laughed and appreciatively snuggled up to them during slow songs but no one took advantage. When I wasn't on the dance floor Chris skillfully interrogated me with a type of chit-chat that extracted a lot more about my life than I expected to reveal. For my part I discovered he had a position with a big banking concern that took him away from home most of the week. I discovered he loved sports: mostly cricket and rugby. Surprisingly, he knew my patron, even the location of the little cottage where I was staying. But sadly, he let me know he positively adored his pretty wife. Inwardly I sighed, even though I had decided early on I wouldn’t try for him: I was no home wrecker. Still, I couldn’t help but wish he were available. I knew my memories of this vacation would be quite different if he shared my bed.

The weeks went by full of travel and rest, only one constant anchored my activities: I spent every Saturday night at the club, always welcome to briefly become a part of that intimate little fellowship. And while I enjoyed getting to know everyone it was Chris who I spent most of my time with. He had been pretty much abandoned by his wife as she partied with their friend Jack. For weeks I couldn’t understand the dynamics of that triad. A glimpse came only a week before I was to leave, as I sought to find a bronze bust one of the barmaids had told me about earlier. She said it was tucked in a nook at the very back of a small separate dining space used for private parties. When I entered that dimly lit area I stumbled on Cath and Jack, locked in a fervent embrace, the intensity of their kiss blocking their awareness of my presence. I felt an immediate sense of longing and loss: I wanted to be in her place. So there I stood as their hands wandered; Cath’s gripping Jack’s obvious bulge and he with his hand up her skirt, cupping her sex. Right before I sensed they would come up for air I turned and quietly left.

Did Chris know, I wondered? I got an inkling as I was beside him when they emerged from their hiding place. He had been glancing toward it occasionally even as his attention seemed to be on our conversation. It surprised me when a sudden grin flashed across his face, to be replaced by his normal calm countenance as he turned back to face me. He knows, I thought, but what, if anything did that mean for me. I pondered making a play for him but decided not to: it still wasn’t my place. Cath gave me a knowing glance as she sat beside me—perhaps I had been discovered after all. Nothing was said and the night ended as all before it had: I walked back to my cottage alone, not able to quite tamp down the longing I felt for Chris, intensified now that I knew Cath also felt that way for another man.

My bags were mostly packed before I set off for the club that last Saturday night. Even though my flight wasn’t until late the next day I hated to be in a rush when having to meet a deadline. It was with a sense of finality that I entered the main lounge. The gang seemed to pay more attention to me, the word having been spread by Chris that I was soon leaving. I danced with every man there and spoke to all their wives, sorry we would be soon parted forever. I was feeling melancholy when, only moments before things broke up, Cath took me by the hand and indicated that I should follow her. She led me to that same little area where I had spied on her and Jack. We sat, facing each other, our hands intertwined. A question marked my face as I waited for her to speak. “We’re going to miss you, Jade,” she began, “and I want you to know I appreciate you entertaining Chris while Jack and I have had our little fun. Oh, I know you’ve wondered about that but it’s fine, my husband is fully on board with my infatuation. Thanks for keeping our secret though, no one in the group knows we’ve gone further than flirtatious dancing.” She paused and I took the opportunity to reassure her, “I’ve also had the occasional extramarital dalliance.” I smiled wistfully, not wanting to mention how many, then continued, “My husband always knew, sometimes joining in.” She gave me a knowing smile, then replied, “I know it’s been hard, being alone, missing your old life.” Then, as if deciding that was enough, she got up, bringing me with her. We were just entering the larger area when she paused, turned to me and quietly declared, “I think it would be nice if Chris accompanied you back home tonight. This is not a time for you to be alone.” Before I could respond she continued on her way, leaving me standing, somewhat stunned at her words.

It felt like I was back in high school on a date. Chris had been waiting for me, acknowledging my presence with one of his trademark smiles. The walk to my little cottage wasn’t all that long but so much was revealed to me then. He was frank about discussing his wife and best friend’s escalating relationship and his part in it. That led me to confess much of my activities with other men. I reassured him Walker was all for it, explaining that he really got off when I completely let go with another man. By the time we got there I had almost convinced myself I might get my wish and experience his magnificent body, if just for one night. It appeared that notion was dashed when we got to my cottage and he suddenly announced, “You know how much I love Cath. I don’t want you to think I’d ever do anything to hurt her.” Oh well, I sighed to myself, I had hoped.

[Johng1953]

I never saw that coming.
I love the way you wove Chris's story into it without compromising it at all though I feel sorry for Jade (a little bit) that her hopes were dashed in the end.
Pure genius!

[Chrislydi]

I'm floating on cloud 9 at the moment, I think I've just died and gone up to heaven. You got it absolutely right and to have met Walker's gorgeously enchanting wife with that charmingly seductive and sexy accent sitting right next to me, wow it would have blown me away - I probably did well to hide the signs . To think our future favourite southern gal was in our club and right by my side, that's serendipity for you. I bet Jack was in a bit of a quandary too, I'm surprised he didn't try for a FMF threesome .

Chris

[BDJ]

I hope ya'll liked the southern accent thing...we can't help it if everybody else speaks funny. Jack was a hard one to describe (and I'm sure he has big, hard one when he's around Cath!) I thought the best way to portray rugby players was with Aunt Ella's euphemism: that really is the way we describe members of the opposite sex.) I'm having fun with this segment.

[BDJ]

Like a gentleman he opened the door for me. I was disappointed. So this was it, I thought as I sighed in regret. But before I could turn and offer my hand I realized he had followed me in, pressure on the small of my back propelling me gently forward until the door was closed behind us. I turned to him, only having time to say his name before he took me in his arms, gave me a look filled with desire…and kissed me. A charge of eroticism went straight to my pussy as his lips met mine. The union wasn’t passionate at first but grew as we continued. For the next few minutes we used lips to explore; our tongues to tease. As I got caught up in the sheer sensual excitement of it I found myself on my tip-toes, my arms around his muscular shoulders, then my hands moving to his neck—the back of his head, stroking, clutching him, suddenly never wanting it to end. He moved my long hair aside and nibbled at the sensitive skin at the base of my neck, almost whispering as he exclaimed, “Oh you beautiful woman” as he thrilled me with his lips.

I couldn’t believe it: Chris, in my arms after so many weeks pining for him. We stood, looking in each others eyes, neither quite believing it had come to this. He answered the questioning look on my face even without me asking, “Cath knows and has given me her blessing.” I broke out in the biggest grin, so happy to be in his warm embrace, wanting this time with him to be burned in my memory forever…and for what it represented: an unexpected chance to satisfy my longing for a man I knew I could never have. But then, niggling at the edge of my mind, came an unbidden thought: but at what emotional cost? I brushed it away with a lingering kiss to my new lover—my body primed for his.

Light from one bedside lamp illuminated our naked bodies. I’m on my back, my long, black hair offering stark contrast to the smoothness of the white bedsheet: my small hand gently caressing the fullness of his cock. He’s on his side, elbow propping him up, leaning over me: his slow moving, restless hand a counterpoint to the growing intensity of his tender kisses. “When did you want me?” I queried when we had paused for a moment, then continued, “I was lost when you first smiled at me.” “I’m not sure,” he replied, “I’ve never had eyes for anyone but Cath…but with her so busy with Jack I found myself gradually being drawn to you. I never thought it would lead to this.” He pulled me toward him so we were chest to chest.

I put my hand on that broad expanse of flesh and muscle, intoxicated by the feel of him. My fingers found his nipples and I excited them, getting more aroused when his hand encircled one of my asscheeks, holding it, kneading it, exploring until I felt his fingertips tease my rosebud opening. Bending, being sure not to dislodge his hand, I tenderly kissed his teat, then worried it with my tongue. My other hand reached below his cock to gather, then cup his full scrotum, delighting in the texture of his pubic hair and the wrinkly roughness of his sac. For minutes we lay like that: I couldn’t get enough of sucking his tiny nibs, of stroking his stiff cock, inhaling his odor—he exuded manliness. I found myself floating in a sea of tranquility—my mind free to let my touch on his skin guide me through my arousal. He responded by giving me long caresses along my back and shoulders before returning to cup my buttock and tease my tight sphincter.

Our breathing began to synchronize, and all was still between us. Then I gripped his cock more firmly—he cupped my vaginal lips with his strong hand—our labored breath now echoing the other; almost becoming a musical call and response. I couldn’t wait any longer, I had to have him in me. I pushed my body firmly against his and threw my leg over his hip, pulling his masterful shaft between my legs—whimpering with desire—begging for his help: “Fill me, Chris,” I heard myself softly cry, “hold me tight and fill me up.” He slipped his other hand beneath me, grasping both asscheeks now, holding me to him as the broad head of his manhood sought my opening: my labia puffy with want, my pussy so wet with need. I held my breath until that hard column found me. One push and he was in. His warmth filled me—thrilled me. “Oh, so big,” I cried in sudden rapture, my hands clutching his shoulders. My pussy stretching to welcome him, not happy until his cum-laden balls bumped my thigh.

My arms now passionately embracing him, my head cradling his neck: so good—it felt so good. Then it stopped. “Chris?” That one word held the question. “Shuuu, little one,” he cooed. “We’ve time. This is what we’ve been wanting…to be joined. Let’s celebrate it for awhile.” So we did. Once again our breath began to rise and fall in unison. We didn’t kiss after that but stared—just stared into each others’ eyes—it was so intense, like reading the love scene in a romance novel. But in this case it was me gazing dreamily at my new love, my eyes gradually becoming unfocused as my senses centered in on the warmth of the flesh filling me: my vaginal muscles, almost of their own accord, began to milk him. His cock twitched in time with me. Soon my whole world revolved around that rhythm; ceaseless, soothing yet becoming ever more exciting. How long? Time didn’t seem to exist, only that: his cock filling me, motionless, but it felt like I was being fucked.

How to describe the indescribable? Our tiny motions were amplified in my mind: tingles emulating from my vagina became like waves lapping upon a sandy beach. And this tide was advancing, beating ever harder upon my emotional shore, gathering strength as each pulse radiated out into my body’s pleasure centers. My once-still mind was becoming engulfed with the advancing surf; growing peaks of ecstasy—expanding, consuming me. Chris must have felt it too, the pressure of need becoming too much for him because, suddenly, he withdrew that column of flesh, then slammed it back into me—fiercely once he began, clutching my ass, finding my mouth with his, using all the power in that muscular body to drive his beautiful cock into my core. Gasping for breath now, my fingers gripping his powerful shoulders, pulling, hungry to get him closer to me. I rode that wave of desire, endlessly surfing the intensity of his powerful lust until I felt a hot liquid flood my cervix, coating the walls of my now spasming love canal. I fell then into the churning maelstrom of his release, immersed in the power of his desire—and screamed my joy: “Baby Jesus, Baby Jesus—TAKE ME!! OH—-OH—-OHHH!!!.” I fought him as my orgasm consumed me but he wouldn’t let go—becoming a raging bull, flipping me on my back, forcing my legs apart—his head down, his breath ragged as he sought to fill me deeper. Never softening he used me…dominated me! I bucked back against him, my hips matching his thrusts, our pelvises smashing together—again and again. I found myself clutching his broad back, ankles locked around his waist. Turning suddenly I bit his shoulder, scratched him, dragging my nails along the curve of his upper back. We fucked feverishly, desperate to mate. Suddenly my legs rose of their own accord, higher, arching, my toes clenched tight. Again I felt it, the flooding warmth deep in my barren womb. I cried out, overjoyed as he bred me, a rutting animal depositing his seed deep, so very deep, into my womb. Instinct overrode reason: I was consumed with the desire to carry a new life within me—to get pregnant, wanting his child above all in that crazed moment of bliss. Then I lost all thought, crying out again and again as never-ending orgasms engulfed me.

[Chrislydi]

If you can go from floating on cloud 9 to hopping onto cloud 10 I think that's where i'm living now. I knew those dreams of once making passionate love to a long dark haired vuluptuous southern belle were becoming all too realistic recently, and now I know why. What a privilege and an honour that must have been, the model of feminine sensuality right at the height of her prime, the stunningly beautiful and curvaceous Jade, that sexy siren we've all been following actually in the same bed and making love to ME!!! it was like winning the lottery on Christmas day or all your birthday's coming at once, every dream come true and more, what a lucky man I was. - (but whatever you do don't tell Walker )

Chris

[Johng1953]

Very intense. Especially the bit about her wanting to get pregnant. Was that just a one off in the heat of the moment or something that will carry forward?

[john jasson]

You have given your creativity free reign now, BDJ. Jade is off the leash internationally and has crossed paths with Chris and Cath! With events racing ahead in Southport this weekend, it looks like you are going to have to make room for Sammie too!

[BDJ]

Johng1953, That was a one-off. Jade can't get pregnant because of a hysterectomy early in her marriage (true.) I have read accounts of that desire has been an almost primitive desire by some woman when in a particularly emotionally charged moment. Thought it would interject a greater emotional charge that I saw being generated by their union.

[Johng1953]

Johng1953, That was a one-off. Jade can't get pregnant because of a hysterectomy early in her marriage (true.) I have read accounts of that desire has been an almost primitive desire by some woman when in a particularly emotionally charged moment. Thought it would interject a greater emotional charge that I saw being generated by their union.

I had forgotten that very important fact! Thank you, and yes, I can understand that now.

[BDJ]

John Jasson,
I'm hanging on every word as you recount your own story. To me, Sherrie is the very definition of sensual beauty and brains. And to give you credit--the way you express your close relationship: of giving truth to all the emotions generated by her affair--it displays a level of skill in writing I will never master.

On a side note, some years ago we spent ten days touring England (starting at Stonehenge, then to Oxford, Stratford-Upon-Avon, Cambridge, to the Yorkshire Dales, then back VIA York, Brighton, and Hastings before flying out.) It was too much but we loved every minute!

I would include Sammie in the Jade story but am stuck with recounting the events surrounding Cath and Jack from the first time. That was intense too!!

Can't wait to read your next segment.

[Johng1953]

John Jasson,
I'm hanging on every word as you recount your own story. To me, Sherrie is the very definition of sensual beauty and brains. And to give you credit--the way you express your close relationship: of giving truth to all the emotions generated by her affair--it displays a level of skill in writing I will never master.

On a side note, some years ago we spent ten days touring England (starting at Stonehenge, then to Oxford, Stratford-Upon-Avon, Cambridge, to the Yorkshire Dales, then back VIA York, Brighton, and Hastings before flying out.) It was too much but we loved every minute!

I would include Sammie in the Jade story but am stuck with recounting the events surrounding Cath and Jack from the first time. That was intense too!!

Can't wait to read your next segment.

Yours, John's and Chris's stories are the ones I am most enthralled with. Amazing stories and so well written.

[BDJ]

John,
It's readers like you who drive me. I find myself pushing, editing more aggressively to try to get it right: in tone, wording, and setting up future events. I sometimes think being in the Library is akin to being the owner of a specialty sweets shop: the traffic outside the window is consistently there but only a select few--those who just have to have that particular confection no matter what--come in to buy. Thanks for your comments.