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by Des 31 » Sun Dec 03, 2023 10:17 am
Gigi is currently at a Caribbean adults-only resort with Porter and Glenn. She took the rest of her vacation days and a couple of personal leave days from work. They will return on Dec. 7, six days past her birthday. The evening they were about to leave our home, Porter said he thinks he now knows my motivation for other guys to fuck her, and, glancing at my wife, he added, “So now I’ll have something to trade.” The three laughed at his comment. I drove them to the airport and will pick the three up when they return. As they retrieved their luggage from the car’s trunk, Porter said, “I promise we will take very good care of her.”
I spent the weekend with Samantha in their absence. Gigi has phoned me nightly, twice when her young friend Glenn was boning her but not during encounters with whatever other swingers were fucking her brains out. One particular husband attracted her and fucked her mightily, or so i'm told. Amid moans and squeals as their dicks pummeled her pussy, she said she had a great time both on the ship and at two ports where the ship docked. The last time we spoke by phone, she said, "I like being your free-range wife." I do too.
The routine the three have settled into is that either Porter or Glenn sees her separately at Porter’s home or ours once a month, leaving other weekends free for the two of us. Two weekends ago, she and I were at a lounge popularly known locally as a pickup bar. When we were being escorted to a table, a guy sitting with three other men looked up at me as my wife walked ahead of me and said, “You’re a lucky guy.” I knew what he meant but grinned and asked, “In what way?” He said I had a great-looking date. I told him to join us a few minutes at our table if he didn’t mind and to tell my wife what he said. I added that I was sure she would appreciate that.
A few minutes later, he came and sat with us. He didn’t return to join his friends who he said worked with him out of Toledo. He introduced himself as Wes. The men were in town on business to set up and open a new retail store in our area’s largest mall. Wes’s job is that of window dresser designing the store’s entry windows. The other men came by our table to say they were headed to their hotel and left.
Wes is a rather big guy, about 6’1” with dark hair that’s a bit longer than my more close-cropped scalp and combed back in a way that covers half his ears. He came across as that of a man supremely confident with an agreeable sense of humor. I was so distracted by my wife’s evident attraction to him that I cannot recall a single joke he offered throughout our conversation. He told us he had an undergrad degree in archaeology but had learned his success would be limited without further studies. He worked his way through college as window dresser and found his artistic skills were superior to most others in that field of work. He now contracts to various retail chains for specialty work and training others new to the craft.
Gigi told Wes she was pleased with his compliment. I cannot recall all the ways the conversation became more intimate but recall that was the result of a comment by my wife – something along the line of, “I take it that means you would like to sleep with me.” I’m sure those weren’t the exact words but at least had that meaning. She added that her husband has suggested in the past he would find it exciting if someone else slept with her, "at least once." He grinned and said, “Well, okay, yeah, that would be very nice.” Gigi said that for the reason she and I don’t drink very much the three of us should go to our home for any more liquor. He drove his rental car behind us to our home. I asked Gigi if she wanted him to fuck her. She chuckled and said, “What do you think?” I smiled and nodded affirmatively. By the time we drove into the garage, I had a raging hard-on, which I suspect he noticed when the three of us walked into our home.
While showing him around our house, he commented on the hot tub and the patio sign that reads, “No swimsuits allowed after 7 p.m.” She invited him to join us in the tub if he wished, and he eagerly accepted her offer. Without his long-sleeved shirt, I - and my wife - could now see the guy is ripped with seemingly sculpted muscles in his arms, chest, and legs. His profession is that of an artist, and I normally think of a guy with artistic skills as less muscular. I would later recall that the greatest of all artists, the Italian Michelangelo, was reportedly as ripped as the best of strong men. That’s probably true of most sculptors as well.
I’m not gay but was captivated as he removed his boxer shorts. His dick sprang out like a bat escaping from its cave into the night. We don’t see many pricks more than seven or so inches, but I’m guessing his was close to eight, and the sight of his python gave me a momentary shock. He slid into the bubbling waters rather slowly as if he was proud to display his phallic wonder, curving somewhat-but-barely-noticeably upward. My wife loves seeing other rigid cocks. I glanced to where she sat alongside him and noticed her gaze was transfixed on his ample manhood. My eyes followed his ample girth as it sank as if in slow motion inch by inch into the water. The veins stood out prominently on his prick’s thick, pink foreskin. His broad, tan cockhead capped the thick stalk like a crown atop a fat branch on a tree. My body shuddered at the sentiment of that monster entering my wife’s hot cunt. If I could transfer thoughts to another’s brain, I would have messaged to him, “Please fuck her tonight.”
As it turned out, I didn’t need that extrasensory ability. My wife followed him out of the hot tub and I was turning off the bubbler and putting away the damp towels with which we dried off onto a patio chair. She said to him, “Care to see the rest of our home?”
Both were naked as they walked down the hallway, disappeared a moment in our guest bedroom, and then crossed the hall to our bedroom. She closed the door slightly behind her but not all the way. From our living room, I heard a minute or so of conversation between them before an extended silence. I would later learn my wife had turned to face him and he drew her near, kissing her fully on the lips. She responded enthusiastically, wrapping her arms around his neck. His stiff cock pressed against her belly.
My excitation had begun while in the hot tub, where I hoped neither would notice me stroking beneath the waters. But now, naked while sitting on our living room couch, my six-inch stiffie begged for the warmth of my hand. I held off and crept down our darkened hallway to peer around the bedroom’s slightly opened door.
Their two naked bodies were pressed against the other and kissing deeply. Excitedly, I grasped my hard and unbending pecker but held off stroking. I slipped into our dark bedroom and sat on the carpet alongside our marital bed. Neither seemed to notice my presence as Wes urged my wife to the bed onto her back. He parted her long legs and knelt between her thighs as he guided his broad dickhead to the opening of her cunt. Her eyes widened and her jaw hung open, just as she has once often done when seemingly frightened as her boss’ large cock was about to enter her opening.
And that’s the moment I realized something about her way of thinking I hadn’t before. She has often said that a guy’s size isn’t important. ”It’s just different, that’s all.” But I also had known that she loves looking at a man’s rigid penis, whether he’s fucking her or not. She was staring down at the narrow space between their bodies as he propped his torso above her with his outstretched arms and hands pressed against the sheets alongside her head. She was closely watching his cock sliding into her opening.
So size does make a difference to her. She can see a sizeable member as it enters her or withdraws for yet another thrust. She cannot see any portion of my ordinary six inches - or another’s of similar size - when fucking her. Her eyes followed his python as it disappeared into her opening, and her cuntal walls expanded gleefully to accommodate his girth.
She cried out, “Oh yes! Oh yesss” and as it plunged deeper into her wet channel, she wailed, “Oh goddd!” Her head dropped to the pillow. His hips thrust madly against her buttocks. The slapping of flesh against flesh overwhelmed their sighs and moans. Her legs wrapped around his hips. I found myself so excited by his prowess that my breath and my senses were distorted. I stifled my tendency to moan to avoid distracting either of them. For perhaps a half minute, I hadn’t realized my warm hand was stroking my cock madly. I deeply wanted to burst out with, “Oh yeah, fuck my wife good and hard,” but did not.
My wife’s wits were sufficiently in control that she turned to our Alexa device and said, “Play ‘Little GTO.” For whatever reason, that’s her favorite song during fast and furious fucking. And that could easily describe the fury with which his long shaft was plunging into her. My wife wailed, “Ohmygod! You’re so good.” Yeah. He was. At least as good as I’ve ever witnessed.
He grunted, “I’m glad it’s good for you.” She responded breathlessly, “Nobody is better.” Well, hell, what’s that kind of comment for a husband's ego to overhear? But for whatever reason, I didn’t then mind hearing her tell him that at all. I was delirious with fervored emotion. I think my warm hand felt as good to me as his whopping-sized cock then stuffing my wife’s hot cunt. Wes glanced alongside to see me jerking off. I don’t know if I looked pathetic or some kind of lesser guy getting off on his wife being fucked. I don’t think I cared at that moment but would later recall what I must have looked like when lying there on my back and jerking off madly. I doubt it would make a pretty picture.
My wife’s body shuddered and she pressed the back of her head onto the pillow as she screamed in her first orgasm. She cried out, “Oh fuck yes! Honey! I’m cummingggg . . . Cumming so goooood.” Wes flipped her over to her knees. She turned her head about to watch as his long, thick cock entered her pussy from the rear. He slammed into her. Her body shook like a leaf in a windstorm as he pounded her pussy with a wide grin on his face. “You’re so fucking hot,” he murmured. Her lip quivered and a sob threatened to choke off her voice as she stammered, “You - You too . . . Your hot cock is just what I needed. I love you fucking me.”
Most impressive of all is that my watch then registered all this had been going near a half hour. I’m unaware of many men who last that long. Most who have fucked my wife, like me, last about two to five minutes before ejaculating. But this was about to end. Wes groaned as his semen erupted into my wife’s channel. She bawled in a loud, high-pitched, squeal like a baby, shrieking, “Oh goddd! I feel it in me!” I think she meant she could sense his spurt of lava spiraling into her channel, but I don’t know how that’s really possible. And later when she told me her feelings while he fucked her, she couldn’t recall saying that.
Wes’ cock didn’t deflate as he withdrew and lay alongside her on the side further from me. He glanced at our Alexa machine and said, “I like that you can pull up any song you want. Do you want to hear the song I liked best when I was studying archaeology in school? I call it the archaeologist’s song.” He said archaeologists are the “road workers” of science. They mostly don’t work in lab coats in pleasant surroundings. They’re digging in dirt, moving rocks, and putting up with snakes, chiggers, ants, and other pesky creatures.
Gigi said she can’t recall any song that relates to archaeology, but he said, “Alexa, play ‘Keep Searching’.” it took more explanation to the machine before he found it, but finally “Keep Searchin’” came on. The singer is Del Shannon, and the only words I recall are, “Keep Searchin’ – Follow the sun,” but it actually did seem to fit. As the song played on, she rolled aside, grasped his stiff cock, and sucked it. His eyes rolled up in their sockets. He said nothing, but clearly he was affected by the wet warmness of his broad dick in her mouth. And then, a minute or so later, his hips lurched upward and he moaned as his jizz spurted into her mouth.
My wife looked down at me from the bed, waved a hand as a gesture for me to leave, and said, “He will be staying the night.” I thanked the two of them for putting up with me during their performance and walked out to the hallway and into our guest bedroom. I didn’t close the door. I heard them fucking once more at some time during the dark, early morning. I had been awakened not by the sex but instead by the song playing on our Alexa device, “Kokomo.” Their passionate sounds told me this was a slower, more romantic interlude, so I suppose the song fit the moment for them.
The following morning, I was up at our usual time of 5:30 a.m. and prepared a breakfast of eggs, turkey bacon, cream of wheat, and Kahlua coffee with cappuccino powder. My wife is typically up and about at the same time, but neither had left the bedroom. So I carried servings of two trays on our rolling cart to our bedroom, knocked on the half-open door, and served them in bed. They joined me at our kitchen table a few minutes later for second cups of coffee.
West and Gigi sat across from me. She said to him, “Too bad you’re in town only a few days. I wish you lived closer.” Wes said that might not be so. The store will be hiring another decorator for their stores. Those guys move about from chain store to store as needed. If the man hired needs training, Wes is told he may be needed again for a while. “So,” he said, “I might be back a time or two more for a few days each.” He promised to let her know and added, “I liked last night a lot as you say you did.” Gigi’s expression, smile, and affirmative nod was her only response to let him and me know she was more than agreeable to that.
In a way, this interlude reminded me of our earlier days, when Gigi was then going through a series of guys she picked up either with or without me. And yeah, I liked it. A lot.
~ Des
Last edited by
Des 31 on Wed Dec 06, 2023 5:58 am, edited 3 times in total.