mature

Nostalgic Recollections From The Golden Age Of Troilism

Sleep never came easily to Pam. The collection of little brown bottles on the bedside table bore witness to that. But tonight no amount of sleeping pills would stop the endless stream of images running through her brain.

Memories of a stranger’s hands running smoothly over her breasts; warm brown eyes that tried to hold her gaze but were drawn irresistibly downwards, to where the tight black curls of her sex were on show. Images of her husband’s expressions as he watched her being mounted, the disbelief in his staring eyes, the seedy, grubby fascination, the way he kept licking his dry lips. Glimpses of the compulsion that had driven him to arrange his own cuckolding.

But Sam, at least, had no trouble sleeping. He was on his side, turned away from her as usual, breathing deeply and slowly. Back there on The Heath, as she took the stranger into her, as she gave her husband his first piece of fresh cream pie, she’d vowed he’d pay for his pleasures, that she’d make him clean up every last drop of the sperm she’d taken for him. But like most of her plans, it hadn’t happened. As soon as he’d come, he’d lost all interest. As usual. And when she’d not taken her shower but come to bed with the stranger’s semen still inside her, he’d shown no interest, even when she tried to blow him, which usually worked. I bet the cunning bastard knew what I’d got planned for him, she thought.

So she’d laid there for hours, listening to the clock, re-living the action, still stunned that she’d actually done it. Wanting to talk it through with him, to understand. Wanting to clean herself up and yet needing to keep something of Mick inside her. It was him that had made the difference, she decided. Tipped the scales, made her decide to go through with it. She hadn’t expected him to be so young, or smell so good, or be so gentle, or make it last so long. Or make her come the way he had.

I bet Ginger wasn’t expecting that, either, she thought, smiling a slow, contented smile and slipping her hand between her legs. Yes, it was still there, though it was a sticky wetness now, not slick and slippery like at first. She sniffed her fingers, trying to recall the smell of him but it had been hours ago and the scent was no longer fresh.

Ugh! Time for a shower. She swung her legs off the bed and walked naked into the bathroom.

Ginger slept on, oblivious.

* * * * * *

The events of Tuesday night provided virtually the sole topic of conversation for the rest of the week. Ginger could be boring at the best of times but he wouldn’t let the subject drop and drove Pam to distraction. Within hours, it had become a total obsession and she listened with mounting concern as one plan replaced another.

They’d advertise in contact mags. They’d join a nudist club. He could take Polaroids. No, better still they’d use some of that money his father had left him and go to Amsterdam. They had clubs there where you could just walk in and fuck whoever you liked. And they ought to get a video camera. And anyway, he’d heard rumours that there were parts of The Heath where couples put on shows while guys watched. Even joined in if you wanted them to. And there wasn’t just Mick either. What about Mark? You two certainly seemed to hit it off last Christmas at the firm’s party. Yes, thinking about it, they shouldn’t stick with just one man. You never know what might happen. You might develop feelings for each other. Yep, we ought to stick to strangers, thinking about it. Safer that way.

Pam felt her spirits sink as one grand scheme after another unfolded. She knew resistance was useless once her husband locked on to a new craze. He would just keep on and on and on, wearing her down until she gave in. The only way out was via the bedside bottles of sleeping pills or through the door. And she’d tried them both before and failed. She was thirty eight and fading fast. She couldn’t support herself on her salary as a part-time medical receptionist. Not in anything like the lifestyle they enjoyed now. A wimp, a failure. She couldn’t even give him the children they’d both wanted so much. And the sex had been going downhill for years.

Until Tuesday night, that is.

On Tuesday night she’d done the unthinkable. Given herself to a man she had never met before, an old school friend of her husband’s. And actually enjoyed it. No, more than that, she’d loved every minute of it. Once she’d realised that she was not being offered like some ritual sacrifice to a dirty old man with bad breath. No, the stranger had been a man she would have fancied across a crowded room. A man she would have relished an affair with.

Not that there’d been many of those, lately.

Not like in the early years, when she first realised that marrying Ginger was the biggest mistake of her life. She’d still had some spirit then. Nothing too risky, of course. Friends and neighbours mainly. Oh and a couple of memorable quickies with a gorgeous lifeguard at that expensive hotel in the South of France. Once even while Ginger was in the same room as them, flat-out dead drunk on the couch where they’d left him, while they used the double bed just a few feet away. Ironic, really. There she’d been, pulling the pillow over her face as she came, so she wouldn’t wake him up and yet all the time he would have enjoyed watching. Especially, she now realised, if she’d let him follow the guy in. Given him - what was that expression he used? - oh yes, a nice slice of cream pie. Read the rest of this entry »

We called him Dimex because that was the name on the side of his truck. Of all the voyeurs on The Heath, he was the best. Even better than me. Except we felt uncomfortable with the word ‘voyeur’, so called ourselves doggers. You kind of sensed Dimex rather than saw him, but eventually I met up with him. It was a hot Saturday afternoon and I was on a young couple that had chosen to make love in the shade of some trees - the ones I was using as cover to keep watch on the main car park. So it was pure chance I got so close. In effect, they came to me. All I had to do was lie low and let the camouflage gear do its job. Otherwise, I would never have got a ring-side seat. The ground was covered in dry leaves and twigs, and they would have heard me creeping up on them.

With youngsters, the second fuck is the one to wait for. The first is usually over in a couple of minutes but I shot it on my camcorder anyway, from a range of less than thirty feet. It was about an hour later, just as they were starting again, that I suddenly realised I wasn’t alone.

Dimex was so close I could have reached out and touched him, and yet I hadn’t heard a thing. With just one small movement of his hand, he signalled that it was OK, don’t panic, don’t say a word. All with one simple gesture. I didn’t move a muscle. I wasn’t about to upset someone who could walk fifty feet across dry leaves without making a sound. Shit, this guy was good.

Together we watched the couple screw for a good fifteen minutes. Because it was cool under the trees, they didn’t strip off, but we still saw plenty. Especially when he did her doggy-style. Big, beautiful white titties swinging and bouncing in the dappled light, as he slapped into her, making her gasp in pleasure. She could only have been nineteen or so. And she was lovely. Read the rest of this entry »

I sighed as I saw Sandra walk down the drive with a big bunch of flowers. I loved and hated it when Sandra visited me. On one hand I loved being in her company, finding her warm, attractive, and dare I say it, sexy. But on the other hand, Sandra’s presence stirred up so many things in me that made me feel very uncomfortable, and a little dirty. There were feelings of lust and desire that I had great difficulty in repressing.

Unconsciously, I looked in the mirror in the hall to sort my appearance before opening the door. Not that it needed sorted. I was a beautiful woman with shoulder length dark hair and a good figure. As Sandra rang the bell, I smoothed down my cream colored skirt and straightened my white blouse. I always found myself anxiously checking my appearance before Sandra visited.

I opened the door to Sandra’s beautiful smiling face. Sandra was a blond in her early twenties and was, as usual, dressed provocatively. She wore a red mini-skirt, black patterned stockings, knee length high-heeled kinky boots and a white T-shirt, through which I could see her erect nipples. As I glanced at Sandra’s curvy figure, I was already beginning to feel nervous.

I invited her in and Sandra gave me the flowers. “These are just to say thank you for what you have done for us.” said Sandra. Sandra’s mother had been ill recently and I had helped them both out, giving them lifts in my car and doing errands. “Oh, thank you. They’re beautiful.” I replied, sincerely. “I was always glad to help.”

I invited Sandra into the lounge. I sat on the large couch while Sandra sat on the chair facing me. As usual Sandra sat with her well shaped legs slightly apart. In this position Sandra panties were clearly visible and I had difficulty stopping myself from staring at them. I hated to admit it, but this really turned me on. I could already feel myself go moist and my nipples go hard. It looked like I would have to resort to the vibrator to relieve myself again when Sandra left.

“But I would also like to thank you personally for your assistance.” said Sandra huskily. This caused some unwelcome fantasies to rush through my imagination. I tried to dismiss them and just smiled.

Sandra stood up and walked slowly over to me, swaying her hips. She stood in front of me, as I sat on the couch. “I know the perfect way to show my appreciation for all you have done.” Said Sandra and lifted up the front of her red skirt directly in front of my face. I stared wide eyed, raising my gaze from her sexy stockings, to her bare thighs, to her tight skimpy panties covering those protruding pussy lips. Sighing in delight. Sandra lightly caressed her pussy through the soft material with her fingers as I looked on whimpering uncontrollably. I bit my lip and frowned with lust as I tried to fight the desire that was rising within me. I didn’t know what to say or do.

But Sandra did. She gently took my hands and placed them on her panties, and rubbed my fingers against her pussy through the soft material. Sandra purred with delight. “I know you want this, Marie.” She said. Then, she lifted my hands up to her pert breasts and placed them over her erect nipples. “And I know you also want these.” Read the rest of this entry »