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. Just like the one she’d given him on Tuesday night.

And now he wanted more. And he didn’t seem to care too much who supplied the cream. That worried Pam. The sex with Mick had reawakened long-forgotten feelings and she had readily agreed to do it again. A bit too readily perhaps. Maybe Ginger was already suspicious. Maybe she’d enjoyed herself a bit too much.

Now he was talking casually about offering her to complete strangers. Well OK, maybe Mick had been a complete stranger on Tuesday but he wasn’t now and she badly wanted to see him again. To do it with him. Just the thought of it started to make her feel moist.

* * * * * *

Ginger finally got through to Mick on Friday morning. He’d sensed Pam cooling off when the subject got around to orgies and gang-bangs and after all, Mick was a nice guy with a wife and two kids. He wasn’t going to risk all that by doing anything stupid.

But he’d asked Ginger to phone him at work rather than at home and was proving a difficult man to track down. The session he and Pam had planned for Friday lunch-time looked like it wasn’t going to happen, after all, which was a pity because they’d both arranged the afternoon off. As he told Mick, what with it being such short notice and all, he’d understand if he couldn’t make it.

But he could and he did.

Actually, he was a good twenty minutes late and they’d almost given up on him. It wasn’t quite how Mick had imagined it, either. Instead of Pam floating into the room on a cloud of perfume, dressed in something diaphanous, she was in the kitchen, peeling potatoes for the evening meal. Ginger was still his usual leery self though, and invited him through to the lounge while barking at Pam to go and get ready because their guest was here.

“We’ve been thinking about you a lot since Tuesday, Mick.”

That high monotone gave Mick the shivers. Poor old Pam, living with a dick-head like Ginger.

“And guess what we found in the spare room?”

Shit, thought Mick, not his fucking Abba albums. He was boring bastard, Ginger. He really was.

It was an old black and white school photo, dating back to the early sixties. And there, circled in red crayon, were their faces. They’d been closer then, despite the two years between them, and sharing the same girl for six months had just been a practical teenage thing. There was no birth pill in those days and girls who’d do it without a rubber, like Carol Dean would, were in short supply.

Then they’d gone their separate ways until, some twenty years on, Ginger had phoned him out of the blue, asked him how was he, how was the family, how was business, how was the dog, oh and by the way, would he like to fuck his wife? Never did have a lot of finesse, did Ginger.

So why did he feel uneasy about this little arrangement? After all, it had worked just fine on Tuesday night up on The Heath. Even if Ginger had thrown him out as soon as he’d done his stuff. He had a good idea why, too. Perhaps that’s why he was feeling a bit nervous. What if his old buddy turned out to be a shirt-lifter? Fuck that, he’d deck him if he just so much as touched his ass.

Still, Pam was a good looking woman and with no kids to fuck her up, her body was still taut and firm. Especially her tits. She had tits you could stand your beer on. Not like Josie, his own wife. The good bits had all started heading South the moment their first one was born. A nice enough woman, and a great mother to her kids but oh, with an arse like a barn door. No, she was a bit of all right was Pam, and Mick had every intention of fucking the living daylights out of her this afternoon, Ginger or no.

That’s why he was late. He’d spent those twenty minutes in a car park, spraying his dick with ‘new improved Stay-Spray - for those who like to linger longer’. Who wrote crap like that? Mind you, the stuff was fucking good. Trouble was, he might just have overdone it. Sat there looking at this stupid fucking photo, knowing Pam must be undressing for him, he couldn’t feel a lot happening in the underpants department. Suddenly Ginger took the photo back and said in that leery nasal whine of his,

“I think she’s ready for you Mick. Go on in and enjoy yourself. Don’t mind me if I pop my head round the door, will you?”

As long as you keep your hands off my bollocks Ginger, thought Mick, you can do what you want with your fucking head. But touch them, mate, and you’re fucking dead.

* * * * * *

The curtains were closed, cutting the light down to a mellow glow. Pam was lying on her side in the middle of the marital bed, her head propped up on one hand, watching with interest as Mick undressed.

He had a certain style, you had to admit. Ginger would have left his socks on and walked around with his dick swinging about, arousing laughter rather than desire in her. No, Mick was definitely different, leaner and more muscular and he left his briefs on too, for her to take off. He got onto the bed and she lay back and reached for his hand.

Mick had forgotten his worries about the Stay-Spray, for he could feel himself beginning to stiffen just looking at her. She was naked except for a gold neck chain and a silky slip that clung to her like a second skin, and she smelt of flowers and lemons. They kissed long and deeply, taking their time, stroking each other, she quivering each time his hand swept along her flank, his fingertips leaving little sparkling trails of pleasure behind them, like the wake of a ship.

They parted for breath and he nuzzled into her neck, pretend-biting her with his lips, tracing little circles in her ear with his tongue.

Suddenly she wanted it to happen now, right now, before Ginger came in. Wanted her new lover to herself, to take him right now, with no-one watching, denying her husband his strange little pleasures. She reached down for him, clutching his balls through his briefs, squeezing, making him gasp with pain and pleasure, running her nails along the outline of his cock, feeling him twitch and harden under the thin material.

Mick pulled at her right shoulder strap and she let go of him, bending her arm to slip the strap off, pulling his head down to her exposed breast, shivering as he suckled on it. Soon the slip was down around her waist and his head was buried in the deep, fragrant valley between her breasts. Again she tried to hurry him, pushing his head down towards her sex. Hot and moist and open for him. Naked under the silk.

Mick slid down the bed, biting her gently all the way, feeling her mound pushing up through the silk, and at last, lifting the hem to claim his prize. As he did, Pam closed her eyes and spread her legs wide, bending her knees to offer herself at the best angle. She could feel his hot breath on her curls, a slight scrape on her thigh from the stubble on his chin. She shuddered as his warm, wormy tongue started seeking out her wetness, finding it and burrowing into her, deep, really deep inside her, circling and thrusting and fucking her like a miniature cock.

Mick was in his heaven. She tasted not of the sea, like some women, but of honey and warm cream. He gorged himself like a parched man offered a juicy, succulent fruit, twisting his tongue this way and that, sometimes going deep, sometimes sliding it up the groove, pushing aside her labia, searching for her clitoris. And finding it and feeling her jump with pleasure as he opened her up with his two thumbs, peeling back the skin of her hood and teasing her tiny pink jewel with the tip of his tongue.

Soon he felt her pull on his hair, pull him away as if she couldn’t bear it any longer, and she sat up and twisted somehow, turning so that her feet were at the top of the bed, showing him she wanted a sixty-nine. Within seconds she’d pushed down his pants and taken him into her mouth. He wasn’t quite there for some reason, not quite hard enough but no matter, she’d had plenty of experience of that with Ginger. She knew what to do.

Gently she worked on his knob with her lips and tongue, nibbling and biting and sucking. His cock tasted so different to Ginger’s, like he’d put some aftershave on it. Yes, that must be it, that surgical, steely taste. Very clean, anyway. She took almost the whole shaft into her mouth and bit him gently at the base. Then she sucked so hard she thought she’d hurt him but he didn’t flinch, so she sucked even harder, drawing the blood into his erectile tissues, feeling them fill and swell and harden.

At last he was ready and she pulled away from him, sitting up and pushing him back on the bed. Suddenly she realised Ginger was in the room, over by the door. Naked. And holding his new camera. Damn! Still, he wasn’t going to spoil it now for her. If he wanted a show, she’d give him one. Show him how a real man could turn her on.

She straddled her new lover and reached down for him, guiding him, slipping on to him easily, lowering herself down the length of it, slowly, to relish the taking of every inch of him, putting her hands either side of his head and looking at the pleasure on his face. Mick cupped her full breasts and she lowered them onto his face. Without so much as a sideways glance towards the door, Pam began to fuck him.

Somewhere a million miles away a camera flashed and whirred but neither of them took the slightest bit of notice. They only had eyes for each other. And teeth and tongues and lips and nails. Hot, sucking mouths and hot, sucking, sex. Faster and faster she rode her man, feeling him buck and rise up to meet her downward strokes, riding the long, thick cock sliding into her, stretching her, penetrating, shafting her. Trying to fuck him faster, harder, deeper, until he bruised and hurt her, making her grunt and gasp with the glorious physical lust of it all.

But if Pam was losing control, Mick had all he needed. The anaesthetic spray always improved his staying power but he’d never done three applications in twenty minutes before, and his cock felt like a dead tree-root. The pleasure on his face was not coming from the nerve-endings in his prick but from the sight of Pam, flushed and sweating and radiant, her naked white breasts swinging and jiggling and bouncing with a life of their own. And pleasure, too, of a different sort from the expression on Ginger’s face over there in the corner, as he watched his wife taking a better fuck than he had ever given her.

Yeah, that was the real crack. The hurt in his eyes, the envy and shock on his face as Pam lost all self-control. Christ, she was a noisy mare! He grinned at his old school chum. He’d show the bastard! It was time to move up a gear.

He sat up and whispered to Pam. A few twists and turns and she was flat on her back across the bed, her legs over his shoulders, while he stood, feet planted firmly on the floor at the side.

“Let’s give the photographer a wave, Pam!”

And they did and Ginger took the picture and Pam still has it tucked safely away somewhere, the three-quarter view of her taking her first stranger on the marital bed, his dead tree-root cock quite clearly visible, well into her. It’s the only one left from the whole series. Ginger destroyed the rest. Couldn’t tear up or burn the Polaroids, so cut them all into little pieces and scattered them to the winds one night, over three miles of motorway.

In later years, Mick would come to understand why. Once it had happened to him. No man who ever offers his wife to another really expects to be bettered by him. And Ginger had expected his old school friend to give Pam a quick one and be out of the house within half an hour. Leaving the pair of them to spend the rest of the afternoon together.

But it didn’t quite work out like that.

Instead, he learned the hard way that inviting a second man into a relationship is a strategy not without risk. Oh, if it works it can be wonderful, deepening and enriching the love and trust between husband and wife enormously. If all three partners approach it with respect for one another; if all three are honest and open with each other; if everyone sticks to the rules; if both men work together to pleasure the woman, instead of competing, trying to outdo each other.

But that’s a lot of “ifs”. And instead of sharing a life-enhancing threesome with his wife and friend, Ginger got the other, raw, end of the deal.

He may have been a boring bastard but he thought the world of his Pam. And it must have been a shock, as Mick later came to learn for himself, to watch the woman he loved take the best fuck of her life from a rival male.

Amazingly, it didn’t put them off threesomes for good. Just slowed them down for a while. Made Ginger realise that no matter how good you think you are, there’s always someone better. Made Pam aware that no matter how she enjoyed herself with other men, she must never again show it so fully.

Eventually they even got briefly involved with Mick again, though it was never quite the same, after that Friday afternoon. But no matter how many men she took between those long, slim legs of hers, and there were many over the next twelve years or so, Pam always kept a special, secret place in her heart for her first stranger. Just as he does for her, to this day.

Ginger and Pam went on to become a regular attraction on The Heath and for a time she even held the local gang-bang record, taking six wet fucks in a single night. Well, Dover’s a small, conservative kind of town and even six must have taken Ginger a lot of trouble to arrange.

Mick serviced them as a couple occasionally and Pam individually many times. She often told him that, for her, the best cream pies she ever served up for Ginger were the ones he didn’t realise he was getting. The affair just kind of fizzled out when Mick moved away and became, as some readers may well have begun to suspect, a writer. And these days, he takes it easy on the Stay-Spray.

But back on that Friday afternoon, as Ginger watched his bride discover a level of pure, carnal, physical pleasure she had never known before, all of these things were far into the future.

Right now there was nothing to do but watch.

Watch his wife lose control so completely, so utterly, that she ended up crying hysterically as Mick pounded relentlessly into her, taking her through orgasm after orgasm, each one more intense, more gut-wrenching, more violent than the one before.

Watch her wild-eyed, lathered in sweat, helpless as the spasms of one climax merged into the next, tearing at Mick with her nails until he bled, urging him on until she was hoarse, to fuck her, fuck her, fuck her, even though she couldn’t bear for a moment longer the exquisite agony of his dead tree-root cock slamming into her, splitting her, stretching her, reaming out her unbearably tender, exhausted pussy.

Watch as she lay whimpering and trapped under a strong man, too floppy and too weak to stop him buggering her. Watch as Mick just pulled it out of one hole and slipped it in another without asking anyone. And Pam bent almost double, her long legs over his shoulders, squealing like a stuck pig, helpless to resist as he pushed through her sphincter and up into her tight rectum. And watch as he took her to another climax, made her come right there in front of him, turning her around, pulling her buttocks apart to show Ginger where they were joined, how hard he was and just how deeply he was embedded in her anus.

And then making her come again, fucking her violently, remorselessly, in a frenzy of sweating, animal-grunting lust, ignoring her pitiful pleas to stop, until the feeling returned to his tree-root cock and at last he burst inside her, spilling his sperm into her bowels, jet after jet, until his balls were drained dry.

* * * * * *

Mick slunk out of the house and back to his car like a thief in the night. Christ Almighty, what was all that about? He’d been invited in to screw her and he’d done just that. Enjoy yourself, wasn’t that what Ginger had said? So he had. And given her a right seeing-to while he was at it.

So why the big row? Why the “never darken our doorstep again” bit? He always knew Ginger was a funny bastard, right from their school days but for a minute back there, he thought he was going to try and get fucking physical with him.

Fuck that for a laugh, thought Mick. You do an old friend a favour and look what happens. It’ll be a long time before I give him a lesson in screwing again. Serves him fucking right. If he can’t do the job properly, there’s plenty who can. Me especially.

He started the car, reversed into their drive, swung out onto the main road and headed for home

Well, perhaps I did go a bit over the top, he eventually conceded. It was that fucking spray. I couldn’t feel a thing. Still, it showed him who’s the boss.

I’ll give it a week or so then give Pam a ring at work. I didn’t hear her complaining…

* * * * * *

Ginger came back into the bedroom with a wet face flannel and a towel and began to gently wipe his wife down. She’d stopped crying now and except for the occasional sniffle, seemed calm enough. Exhausted, though. Her short blonde hair dark and matted with sweat, soaked right through. So shattered she didn’t resist as Ginger rolled her onto her front and started drying her back.

He was feeling ashamed at not having intervened sooner but, he reasoned to himself, she was having the time of her life until the bastard had buggered her, something he’d never been allowed to do. It must hurt like hell, being fucked like that. Still, that didn’t stop her coming another couple of times, did it? Perhaps he should check she was OK, in case the bastard had split her and she was bleeding. Gently he eased her buttocks apart.

And that was the moment that all his well-intentioned remorse seemed to evaporate. For though her sphincter looked red and sore, there was no blood. But instead of the tight little star of muscle that he was used to seeing, it was enlarged and slightly open, as if she couldn’t quite close it. And there in the centre of the ring was what this had all been about. A glistening, translucent pearl of sperm, welling up from inside her rectum.

Instantly he felt himself stiffen and he let go of her buttocks, closing them on her secret. He couldn’t. Not after all she’s been through. She’d only just stopped crying.

But what had it all been for, if he didn’t? And anyway, she’d had her fun. Hours of it.

Pam lay there passively, not resisting. She was calm now and knew what was coming. She could read him like a book. The tender loving care was just Ginger’s clumsy attempt to check her out down there, to make sure Mick had left him something. Which he had, of course. And Ginger would have to have his cream pie and she would have to serve it up. Even though it was going to hurt like hell.

“Sam?” She only called him Ginger when their friends were around.

“Yeah?”

“It’s all right. Go ahead. Do it. I don’t mind, honestly.”

He knew she was lying and in pain but the temptation of that sperm oozing out of her ass was too powerful. He just couldn’t stop himself. “Well, perhaps if I’m gentle. Not like him.”

“No, not like him. Gently. Go on, I want you to.”

“Honestly.?”

“Honestly. Please.”

“Well, perhaps if you knelt on the edge of the bed. Just to make it easier.”

Somehow she found the strength to move, to rearrange herself for her second man of the afternoon. She knelt on the edge, legs open and lowered her face down to the cover, presenting her rump to him.

And as he slipped into her stretched, lubricated rectum, Pam bit her hand to stop crying out. Through the tears of her pain she could see her way out, the little collection of bottles on the bedside table. But as the sucking, squelching sounds of her husband enjoying her grew louder, a worm of pleasure awoke in her bowels; a restless, wriggling worm that grew stronger with every stroke. And suddenly there was no decision to make.

Screw the sleeping pills. She’d never realised till today just how good sex could be. Even with Ginger. She had a lot of lost time to make up. And not so many years to do it in. If cream pie was what he wanted, cream pie he was going to get. As many helpings as he liked. And fuck it, who cares who supplies the cream? The worm was wriggling furiously now, deep inside her intestines, sending waves of glorious animal pain into her belly.

Gritting her teeth, she gripped the bed, tightened her arse and pushed back into him, hard as she could

Nostalgic Recollections from the Golden Age of Troilism

They had chosen their target carefully, in a pub some twenty miles away from home and Julie had eventually agreed, in the warmth of their bed, that if it had to be somebody, then he seemed nice enough.

Played it down well, thought Rich. With just a touch of reproach, even resignation in her voice. But when he still hadn’t mentioned it two days later, her casual inquiry had been just a bit too casual.

“Don’t suppose you’ve done anything about that guy we saw?”

So he teased her, saying he was having second thoughts about the whole thing. And he watched her wipe down the table with a new intensity, her lips clamped tight as she worked out her answer.

“Well, like I said, we could do it in stages. No need to go mad. Just a quick session in the back seat, just like you and Maggie last Christmas. No need to go any further than you did.”

Ouch! Finding himself alone with her best friend in the back of a car after a party, he’d taken full advantage of her drunken affections. He’d always fancied Maggie and within five minutes had finally got inside her pants. Just about the exact moment the door burst open and Julie and Maggie’s husband got in.

He wondered if she’d seen how far he’d got in that five minutes. Far enough to know what a lovely little hot-pot Tom could tuck in to whenever he liked. If he bothered. Naturally, he had only admitted to a quick kiss and a cuddle. But Julie and Maggie had been friends since their schooldays.

Oh well, perhaps deep down he’d planned it all. Catching him like that gave Julie every right to get her own back. And that, he was beginning to admit, was what he wanted more than anything else. He’d always felt an unbearable lightness in his stomach whenever she flirted or danced with his friends. And yet he always encouraged her. It took several years and a particularly wild party before he came to appreciate that he actually enjoyed it. The revelation came when, quite by accident, he’d seen Julie going up the stairs, followed seconds later by Tom, their host. The two had been dancing closely at every opportunity and seemed oblivious to the knowing looks they’d been getting.

Heart pounding, he told himself it was just a call of nature but when neither of them came back down, he went looking for them. Only to find the bathroom door open and all the bedrooms shut.

So he’d sat there curled up in a ball at the top of the stairs, raging impotently at the betrayal, boiling inwardly, trying desperately to picture them together, wondering if this moment was the one when Tom unhooked her bra, or if this was the exact same second that she pulled down his zip. And feeling so full of love for her, so wanting to share those first, fumbling moments when she explored another man. And so abject, so cheated at being here on the wrong side of the door, excluded while it happened without him.

But if Richie was reluctant to act, Maggie, the hostess, most definitely wasn’t. She swept past without even looking at him, opened a bedroom door and gave them both some frank and rather loud advice about not playing silly buggers in her home.

Not able to face them, Rich had slunk off down the stairs and into the kitchen, where he splashed some cold water onto his burning face, avoiding the pitying looks from the others, concentrating on pouring himself a stiff drink. Julie had appeared with her coat over her arm a few minutes later and announced that it was time to go home.

He’d never mentioned it since, not even during their rows. Things had been cool between the two girls for months afterwards. But not between Rich and Julie. The sex was, for a while, the best either had experienced. Ever. Even now, Rich could feel himself stiffening at the sight Maggie must have walked in on.

Had they or hadn’t they? He’d spent many a happy hour torturing himself about that one. It was, he’d come to learn, only the deception that had really hurt. Produced the kind of pain that could break up a marriage. If only they had let him in on their secret, or better still made him part of it, so he would know what was going on, could have seen them together. He could have handled that all right. Oh yes, he would have enjoyed that.

But time passed and everything gradually got back to normal. Including the sex. They didn’t go out with Tom and Maggie as friends much any more but their daughters went to the same school, so the two wives still met regularly.

But try as he may - and he didn’t very much - Rich couldn’t shake off the thought of Julie making love to another man. It was guaranteed to get him hard. If anything, over the years, it had grown into something of an obsession. Secret, shameful feelings that were now prompting him to shape events, to make it happen, to persuade his wife of fifteen years to open her legs to someone new.

Julie could hardly believe her ears when he suggested that maybe she was entitled to get her own back for his grope with Maggie. She thought it had been his revenge for that party. Maybe Maggie had been lying about him being sat outside, just to make her feel worse. After all, he’d never mentioned it. But no, that didn’t explain the way their sex life had taken off. They’d been at it like rabbits for weeks afterwards. No, he knew about it all right and in some strange way she couldn’t understand, it turned him on. Perhaps it was the male need for competition. She knew he liked her to show off, to dress provocatively when they went out with friends. Whatever it was, the sex had been brilliant and had brought them closer together than at any time before. Or since, come to that. Perhaps she should play along, after all.

“Well, I suppose if it’s only a kiss and a cuddle ….as long as it doesn’t get out of hand. And we don’t know him. Probably never see him again.”

Was she really saying this? Oh God, I hope I don’t sound too keen. Honestly, men, she thought. Still, ever since they’d spotted the fair-haired stranger she hadn’t been able to put him out of her mind. A quiet man with warm brown eyes that had followed her every move. She still looked good in a short skirt and had caught him looking at her long, slim legs more than once, from over the top of his paper.

Oh well, maybe they did need something to put a bit of spice back into their lives. They had been married fifteen years, after all. And it wasn’t as if she was exactly blameless in the fidelity department. Fifteen years was a long time and she couldn’t help it if men found her attractive. But with Richie watching? Oh well, as long as it didn’t get out of hand, what harm could it do? Richie wanted her to do it, she was certain of that.

“I think you’d better sort out some ground rules with him first, Richie. And I don’t want him back here, either. Anyway, he might not be interested … I’m thirty-seven. He looked younger to me.”

They hadn’t been married for this long without him knowing when a compliment was called for.

“You’re joking. He’ll jump at the chance … anyone would. And I could always take a few Polaroids along … let him see for himself.”

She stopped stacking the dishwasher and thought about it.

“OK, if you want. But I’ll do the choosing… and not the porny ones.”

Richie was stunned. He’d once asked if he could show some of the milder ones to the guys at work and she’d hit the roof and hidden them for six months. Things were changing fast.

So that same evening they found the pub and went in for a drink. But the place was nearly empty and the fair-haired stranger wasn’t around.

Richie tried again on the Friday, this time on his own and the place was packed. Fighting his way to the bar, he didn’t give much for his chances of finding him. The joint was jumping - not the sort of place for a man to be reading his paper. And yet there he was in the same corner seat. A quiet man, sipping his beer and enjoying his own company.

His easy, natural way with people had served Richie well as a salesman and striking up a conversation with a complete stranger was something he did every working day. Within minutes they were swapping stories like old friends and after a few beers the subject of sex had come up. Richie quickly produced the photos in case Phil mistook him for a queer.

Julie had chosen them well. Nothing crude, just sexy undies with plenty on show. Even at thirty seven she still packed her 36C cups to overflowing.

And so Rich told the story that he and Julie had dreamed up … about a game of forfeits with some friends that had gone wrong on him. How he had tried to win half an hour in the back seat of a car with her best friend. And how he had lost and now had to arrange for his wife to have the same. But with a complete stranger because she was too embarrassed to do it with someone they knew. And they laughed at the way it had backfired on him and how it served him right..

From there it was easy to bring up the subject of the ground rules… just thirty minutes or so of fun, no going all the way, and a vague promise of more at a later date. They went their separate ways with the arrangements made, Richie thinking how well it had gone and the quiet man reflecting that thirty minutes was a lot longer than he normally took.

* * * * * *

The time Julie needed to get ready for a night out had always amazed and often frustrated Richie. The new outfit … the appointment at the hairdressers … the long bath. Anyone would think they were going to a wedding. But when he found her putting on some drop-dead gorgeous underwear he’d never seen before, his throat dried up and he could hardly speak.

“Wow! But if there’s no fucking allowed, why all this?”

She reddened and carried on stretching the sheer black stockings upwards to the lacy black garter belt.

“You know me, I always like to feel nice. Anyway, you’ll get the benefit of them afterwards.”

I bloody well hope so, he thought. But this was all for someone she’d never even met before. Her laughter was too shrill, her eyes too bright and her chatter too loud. No sign of any reluctance now. Julie was on a high.

He hadn’t seen her this excited for years, he thought to himself. Oh well, it had been his suggestion. The thought of her in the back seat with another man started the churning in his stomach. New black underwear? If she had any intention of keeping to her own rules, she could have worn jockey shorts and the quiet man wouldn’t have been any the wiser.

His chest felt tight, his face was flushed and his palms were sweating. What the hell was he going to say if she asked if they could go a bit further?

That had been the deal. She had it all worked out. If she fancied him, the keywords would be “shall we give him a lift?”

And when they got out to the car, there was to be no messing around in case there were people about. They were to get straight into the back and he was to drive. Eyes on the road, no looking at what was going on in the back. He’d have to trust her on that. He needed a lesson and she was going to make sure he thought twice about groping her friends in future. But there was nothing to worry about. No undressing. Nothing below the waist anyway. And if she did want to go a bit further, she’d ask him first and he could always say no.

Which was more than he’d done when Maggie had climbed into the back seat with him last Christmas, she reminded him.

* * * * * *

The evening was a bit awkward at first and it took a couple of drinks before they could relax. But gradually they unwound and began to enjoy a lively conversation.

Phil was an educated, even cultured man, with a wicked sense of humor. And for two and a half hours they talked avidly about anything except what was going to happen.

Julie really came out of her shell after a few drinks and Rich felt proud of the way she easily matched Phil’s sharp wit. Impressed, too, at the way she could flirt provocatively yet discreetly, without embarrassing him. And at how good she looked in the new dress she’d bought specially. Soft and silky, with pearl buttons all down the front. Buttons? He’d been thinking about those…..

As the drinks went down and the conversation became bolder, Richie noticed the way they kept locking eyes with each other and a cold, wriggling worm deep in his bowels told him that thanks to those buttons, this gentle stranger was going to get his hands on Julie’s new underwear well before he did. Still, he admitted to himself, the thought of that wasn’t entirely unpleasant.

Stuck with the driving, his two beers had to last all evening but Phil and Julie made the most of it and Rich reckoned she’d put away seven or eight large vodkas by the time she looked at him with hot, bright eyes and asked the question he knew was coming.

“Shall we give him a lift home, Richie?”

Not trusting himself to speak, he nodded and led the way to the car. There was no-one around and Phil and Julie giggled loudly as they got into the back.

Swallowing hard, Richie started the engine and turned the cassette on. She’d even chosen that. The joking in the back stopped the moment that he turned off onto the circuit of back roads they’d found the day before.

He stole a glance in the mirror but she’d picked the route well and with no street lights or passing traffic to light them, he couldn’t see a thing. Or hear anything, come to that, because of the cassette. Christ, she’d thought of everything. Even a dress with buttons down the front.

But after a few minutes he thought he could just catch the occasional sharp intake of breath, a rustle of silk as they turned and twisted. And when he heard a low murmur from Julie, he knew that the limits they’d set were being tested.

Almost on cue, she broke the silence.

“All right to go a bit further, Rich? Say so if not.”

His heart was hammering, his stomach tickling and he could feel the hairs on his arms standing up. Christ, he thought, I’m actually enjoying this! Trying hard to sound calm, he answered her.

“No that’s all right. It’s up to you.”

And then a flash of brilliance.

“But I’m going around in circles. Why don’t we go up to The Heath and park?”

Brilliant because he knew there’d be enough light from the town below to see at least something. And with the engine off, the cassette wouldn’t work.

“Yeah, all right … whatever ….”

She sounded in control but was breathing fast and trying too hard to be cool. He heard them shift in their seats and all went quiet again.

Soon there were street lamps and Richie risked another quick glance in the mirror. The shock of seeing the white skin of her shoulder nearly took his breath away. She must have taken her coat off, he thought. But when they passed through the next pool of light, he saw there was no sign of her dress either …. or the black shoulder strap of her bra. Buttons, eh?

“Careful, you two! There’s lights here. Don’t want to get arrested! He laughed nervously at his own silly joke.

But there was no response and even above the music he could have sworn he could hear the sound of one button after another coming undone.

Soon the lights of the town were behind them as the road climbed up to The Heath… and the picnic areas that every courting couple in the area knew.

They’d done their fair share of love-making here years ago and Richie chose an isolated pull-in they’d used before they’d got married. Quite romantic, really, he thought grimly.

The silence after the engine stopped and the cassette went quiet seemed absolute, save for the ticking of the exhaust as it cooled down. Suddenly another button popped and Julie giggled, breaking the tension.

He desperately wanted to turn round but that wasn’t the deal. If she wanted him to look, she’d said, she would tell him to. So don’t go spoiling things.

The sounds of their pleasure grew louder, making his pulse race and lips dry. Hard nasal breathing because their mouths were locked together. Silky rustles as eager fingers explored and undid. Creaks from the upholstery. And after an urgent whisper from Phil, another question for Richie.

“Er, Rich …., is everything all right? I mean, we’ll stop if you want us to.”

“Nah, everything’s fine … really. You just carry on.”

He couldn’t believe he’d really just said that.

“Well, is it OK if we go a bit further, then? Not too far or anything …”

She was going to have to pay for it, this time. He needed to see what was going on. To watch. To share.

“Well … I mean, I don’t know how far you’ve gone already, do I?” It sounded desperately like a whinge.

This time Phil spoke.

“Let him look, Julie, I don’t mind. You’ve a lovely, passionate wife, Richie. And I’m afraid we’ve broken a few rules. What she means is, I’m trying to take her pants off. Is that OK, Richie?”

It all seemed perfectly reasonable, the way Phil said it. I mean, he could have just gone ahead and done it, thought Richie. Without me being any the wiser. It’s better to know, after all. And to see.

Well, if they can break the rules so can I, he thought and turned in his seat. He wasn’t prepared for the shock he got, though, for every button on her dress was undone.

Even in the dim light he could see the black garters taut against the alabaster white of her thighs and the twisted scraps of black lace that were her panties stretched tight between her open knees.

Her dress was wide open and down around her shoulders, her bra pushed roughly upwards. Her soft, heavy breasts hung free and naked. Phil was nuzzling the left one gently.

Shameless in her nudity, Julie was staring at him, a strange, intense look in her eyes, daring him to take control for once. That was the difference between them, she’d once screamed at him during a row …. I make things happen, you let them. You’d better stop it now, she seemed to be saying, right now or I’ll make you pay.

Phil’s right hand was somewhere up in the dark between her open legs, fingers deep in her lush black curls.

Things had already gone much further than they’d planned but Rich couldn’t bring himself to stop it. Anyway, what was the harm? His wife was obviously enjoying herself and in a way he really didn’t want to think about, so was he. He looked down to where Phil’s hand was working gently away. He desperately wanted to see more.

“Well, perhaps another five minutes, Ju ….. I’ll leave it up to you, love.”

He wasn’t sure if it was lust or scorn that made her voice tremble.

“Ooooohkay love….if that’s what you want. But first take my pants off.” And then quickly to Phil “No, not you …him.”

The bitch. It wasn’t enough to just give him what he wanted. She had to humiliate him as well. Fine, if she wants her knickers off, fine. He wasn’t backing down.

So he reached across , pulled them down to her ankles and as she lifted each foot to free them, took them off and dropped them on the passenger seat.

Phil leaned across her and they kissed deeply. With one last, strange look, she shifted her weight, settled deep into the seat beneath him and spread her legs wide. Transfixed, Rich watched Phil’s hand sweep across the insides of her thighs, stocking tops and garter belt. Julie blatantly thrust her hips upwards to meet his hand, offering her mound in sweet, shameless surrender. She spread her legs even further and her quiet man plundered her slick, open pussy with eager fingers.

No need now for either to disguise the pleasure they were giving and taking. Julie’s breathing grew faster, giving way first to cries and whimpers, then to groans that grew louder and louder. Even so, Rich could hear the soft sucking from Phil’s fingers as they plunged in and out of her, thick with her juices.

If Julie’s odd, last-ditch attempt to make her husband jealous had failed, she was rapidly reaching the point where she couldn’t care less. Unknown to Richie, she had quietly unzipped her stranger within a few minutes of leaving the pub.

And now it was time he knew about it. That would give him a shock! That would teach him to let a stranger into her pants. Her orgasm wasn’t far away but it could wait.

“Richie. . . ?”

Oh God, did she really sound that breathless?

“Mmmmm.”

She would show him! This would call his bluff, make him put a stop to it. And if he didn’t, well whatever happened, it wasn’t going to be her fault was it?

“Why don’t you come back here with us?”

Richie’s heart was thumping so loud he felt sure they must be able to hear it. She’d asked for it! The one thing he thought she’d never do. And yet always hoped she would. Crunch time, son, a voice seemed to say. You wanted it, you planned it. Now, are you ready for it, or are you just going to play the whimp, let her win, let her make a fool of you?

The same voice seemed to answer for him but from a distance, from another reality. Surely it wasn’t him speaking?

“Yeah. OK! Why not?”

Mr Cool, with the casual, laid back tones of someone who’d just been offered another beer. Not invited to take part in his own cuckolding.

As he reached for the door handle, Rich remembered that old joke about laying on your arm for a while before jacking off - so that it felt like someone else’s hand doing it. That same numbness now seemed to be affecting his entire body.

And he remembered how he’d heard people recounting their near-death experiences on TV, how they seemed to leave their bodies and floated out there in space, in a corner of the room, watching themselves lying there below. That’s how it seemed now, watching the thirty-seven year old man with two kids and a beautiful wife get out of the driver’s door and climb into the back seat, where the same beautiful wife was with someone else, helpless with vodka and lust, too far gone to stop it happening, too weak to stop a stranger mounting her and entering her and emptying himself into her open womb.

And so Richie watched from his point in space as his other self sat alongside his near-naked wife and helped her off with the dress and bra and sat back in the corner of the seat, while she turned towards her stranger and lay back in her husband’s lap and looked up at him and asked him if he loved her. And watched himself kiss her passionately and reassure her and stroke her big, milk-white breasts, while the stranger pulled and struggled with his pants until he pushed them down and pulled off his shirt and was suddenly white and naked too, with a full, proud erection; a beautiful, terrible god-head that bobbed and weaved as if searching for its prey, as Phil struggled to find the right position between Julie’s open legs.

Fascinated, he watched as his wife finally gave him what he’d wanted all this time, watched her draw her knees up to her chest, watched her look downwards as if she, too, wanted to remember the exact moment that the swollen purple god-head pushed aside her labia and slid into her.

And it did, too.

No last-minute cavalry charge, no sudden change of heart, no cries from him to stop it, stop it, stop it. For even though the words were there, hanging in the air, they remained unspoken, as if the same creeping numbness had frozen his jaw, like it had dried his mouth. Helpless to stop it, he watched the stranger slowly sink his long, thick cock into his wife, watched as every inch of it disappeared, drawing a long, drawn-out groan of pleasure from her.

Instinct told Phil that he had been right to take his time, to arrange things so Richie could see every detail of his cuckolding. He fought off the urge to throw himself upon her, to smother her and taste her and kiss her, staying instead on his knees, as upright as he could, pulling in his belly, so they could all see the fuck happen.

And he knew he was on trial, too. That if he got this right, there would be more. So he found that slight detachment that Anne, his wife, had sometimes complained about but in the end accepted because it made him such a good fuck, gave him the staying power she so admired in a man. Slowly, deliberately, he started his rhythm, a full long stroke that made the woman underneath him gasp, followed by several shorter faster strokes. He licked his thumb and found her clitoris, circling it, mixing their wetness, feeling her push upwards into it.

Julie did her best to look deep into her husband’s eyes in the dim light, to search for any sign of regret. But though all she could make out was the white face above her, she knew he was enjoying watching them together, for his hands were stroking her breasts, weighing them, smoothing them, making her nipples stand proud.

She took hold of his right hand and pulled it down to where Phil was playing with her clit, building up her orgasm.

The shock of feeling another man’s hand there made Richie recoil instinctively but Julie persisted and Phil took his hand away, lifting her legs up into the crook of his elbows, fucking her long and hard and powerfully.

Richie’s other self, the one up there watching all this happen to strangers, was coming back into him now. It was his hand, not some other’s, that brushed across her springy, wiry curls and down between her thighs. And it was his fingers, the first and second, that felt the hard, wet piston of his rival plunging deeply into his wife’s sex. And it was those self- same fingers that opened and gripped the smooth, slick shaft, feeling it pass through them in its coating of oil, feeling the hot, throbbing hardness slide past on it’s way to ravish, stretch and plunder her eager pussy.

Julie was fast losing any semblance of control and pulled Phil down towards her, finding his mouth and sucking his tongue into her. Faster and faster, Phil began to pound her, making her gasp and groan as she matched his strokes, cry out and finally shriek with pleasure as the dam burst within her, his strokes blurring into one seamless, endless, powerful thrust, his belly slapping into the back of Richie’s hand, trapped there between their heaving bellies.

At last he could hold back no longer and gave into the electric agonies of his orgasm, bucking out of control as she sucked his sperm from him in long silken ribbons, pulling them out by their roots from deep inside his balls, leaving him weak and spent and yet still trying to bury himself deep inside her.

Now Phil, too, felt that same sense of unreality that Richie had felt when he knew it was going to happen, knew only he could stop it, knew that he wouldn’t. He felt Julie push him off her without actually feeling it. Felt Richie’s hand around his softening cock, pulling it out of his wife. Heard them without really listening. Felt them twist and turn and push and pull until a door opened and he felt cool air on his skin and grass under his feet.

And as he stood there shaking, naked in the warm night, gulping in lungfulls of clear, clean air, he too became an observer, one step outside his own reality, watching another man take his place.

It had been Julie’s suggestion and Richie had reacted instantly, bundling Phil out of the door, half following him until his feet were on the grass. Awkwardly, in this absurd position, he tore at his clothes, leaving some in the car, others scattered on the ground. Finally he realised that he would have to remove his boots in order to get the jeans off and calmed down a bit, reassured by the sight of his erection showing no signs of flagging. So he finished his undressing with as much dignity as he could muster and looked in the open door, at Julie with her legs spread wide, holding herself open.

And there, caught in the interior light that had come on automatically, there between her hands, between the pink, glistening folds of her sex, was the final, incontrovertible proof that she’d just been fucked. A small, precious pearl of fresh sperm, locked in the tight, oyster folds of her labia.

As he watched, it grew larger, pushed out by some inner force, welling up in the entrance to her sex, changing first to a tear shape, then to a warm candle-run that crept down and out of her open maw. Jelly from her belly.

“Fuck me, Richie . . . please!”

Julie’s voice was a desperate whisper.

His erection curved upwards and outwards from him and he knelt clumsily between her legs. She was covered in a thin sheen of sweat, her fringe stuck to her forehead, her big, soft breasts heaving as she struggled for breath.

“Please, Richie! Fuck me, please.”

She drew her knees up and held them from behind. Looking down over his erection, Richie saw the pearls creep downwards until they merged, became a trickle, and then a gleaming silver flow, oozing slowly from deep within. Suddenly he felt the first early warnings of his orgasm and pushed his prick down between her labia and slid it back up again, coating the swollen head in the slippery, translucent discharge, his rival’s living sperm providing the perfect lubricant for the fucking of his perfect wife.

Julie watched the rapture flush his face, felt him twitch and tremble as she pulled him into her, felt his cock, hard and slippery and slimy, pumping into her. Held him tight as he writhed and rutted in helpless ecstasy, gripped and milked him as he came, feeling the sudden warm wetness as his sperm gushed and spurted inside her, blending with her stranger’s. Crying out with him as she squeezed and sucked with her womb, draining him of his manhood, feeling him shrink and shrivel, suddenly lost in the dark, slippery vastness of her sex.

* * * * * *

Fifty feet away and some ten feet above them, a man in black lowered the strange looking goggles and rubbed his eyes. Night vision binoculars were all very well in the dark but the interior light of the car had burned too brightly and his eyes were sore.

Still, he had enough on this little trio to have some fun. They were all the same, these troilists. Once they’d done it, they needed it like a drug. They’d be back. And in the same place. And if he was any authority on the subject, which he was, at the same time next week . . .

Last week he’d got three, all on video, he reflected. The best one was the young couple in the old Ford. They were so hot for each other they couldn’t wait for it to go dark and he hadn’t needed the night sight attachment. These new camcorders were amazing and even though dusk had been falling, he’d got near perfect colour pictures of them folding back the passenger seat and making love.

At first he couldn’t see much because the guy had covered her. But after he’d come, he’d got off and sprawled back in his own seat, leaving her laid out, practically naked, tits on show, legs spread for all to see. Well, anyone perfectly hidden fifty feet up the hill above them, with a long lens and a polarizing filter to kill the reflection off the screen. Yeah, that was the best of the three technically but the last one, the threesome in the Renault, had intrigued him the most.

Plenty of couples came up to The Heath for sex. He’d been watching them for more than ten years. And he was not alone. Most of them had their fun and left an hour or two later none the wiser that they’d been providing arousal for anything up to five or six voyeurs, or toms, as the man called them. Voyeur was not a word he used lightly. He considered himself to be the only true voyeur on the whole of The Heath. The only professional. The only one never to have been spotted by his victims. Well, except the once. And then he hadn’t had to run or fight - they’d just burned rubber all the way off The Heath. The rest, the toms, were just amateurs, crashing through the undergrowth, getting too close, fucking things up. Just peeping fucking toms, with no fieldcraft whatsoever.

But organized threesomes were bit out of the ordinary. Sure, The Heath had its regular exhibitionists, a dozen or so couples who put on shows for the toms. And sure, occasionally a door might be opened, an invitation issued and somebody’s wife might get fucked by whoever was doing the watching. He’d seen it dozens of times. They’d just kneel on the passenger seat, go down on their old man, stick their ass out the door and take the fuck. Usually without wanting to know who was doing it. Which was just as well, he reflected grimly.

Sometimes these impromptu threesomes even developed into gang bangs, with the word going round and three or four more turning up. He never joined in himself. That would have meant making himself known to the others. And in all the time he’d been working The Heath not one of the toms had ever spotted him on a couple. He was that good. And he wasn’t going to change things by joining a line of sad old bastards taking turns on some sad old tart who had had to get falling-over drunk before she could go through with it. Just to keep her old man happy. But the one last Friday had been different. For a start, the woman had been beautiful. And either they didn’t realize that they were being watched or didn’t care. Probably the former, he decided. They were too wrapped up in their little back-seat orgy to consider that they might be providing the evening’s entertainment. And when the men had come tumbling out of the back door to change places, they hadn’t realized how close they’d come to catching Stan, the old dick-head who only came up The Heath on Fridays. He’d had his nose pressed up against the glass of the driver’s door for so long he must have left snot all over it. Stan’s trademark was a runny nose that he cleared regularly and loudly, regardless of how close he was to a couple. And Stan got far too close for his own good. It was only a question of time before he got hurt. And if he fucks this little trio up, thought the man in the van, it might well be me that does the hurting. Still, he’d got away with it that time. Though for the life of him, the man couldn’t work out how the woman hadn’t seen Stan. He’d been bobbing up and down like a fucking Red Indian, directly in her line of vision.

The traffic started to move at last and the gray van slipped off the ring road and headed out to the country. Remember, you’re the invisible man, the spooks had told him on one training course. Mr Nobody. Keep your head down, never stand out from the crowd. Go to work the same time every day, pay your bills and live your cover. Never carry anything you can’t explain and always have a reason for traveling at night.

Oh and don’t take a life unless you have to. It attracts attention.

* * * * * *

Ever since Friday, Rich had found it difficult to concentrate and had one of the worst sales weeks of his career. Had they really gone through with it, done all that? Gone all the way? Would she ever do it again? Tonight? Not if her reaction all last week-end was anything to go by. She hadn’t been able to look him in the eye and had gone to extraordinary lengths to avoid being on her own with him, even inviting friends around at the last minute on Saturday evening. Whenever he’d tried to steer the conversation around to it, she’d changed the subject. Full of remorse and regret, she hadn’t been able to talk about it until Sunday evening, after the girls had gone to bed and they’d shared a bottle of wine. And at last it had all come pouring out - the shame, the embarrassment, the self-loathing. Rich had been his supportive best, listening to her outpourings, calming her, reassuring her. And they’d gone to bed and had the best sex they’d ever had. In the warm afterglow, she’d relaxed and he’d told her time and again, no, it didn’t change things, no he didn’t think badly of her. And yes, of course he still loved her and yes, he did want to do it again. And before they fell asleep in each other’s arms, she’d come round to admitting that well, yes, she supposed it had been fun really, and yes, she had actually quite enjoyed it and well, if he really felt like that, really wanted her to do it again, well she’d have to think about it. There in the traffic of the ring road, Richie reflected that she’d put up quite a fight. The complete U-turn of opinion had taken nearly forty-eight hours, much longer than it usually took her. The traffic started moving again and at last he could see the first signs to his turning. About time too. They were meeting Phil at eight and he didn’t want to give Julie an excuse for backing out.

Now Friday was here at last, he felt more relaxed about things. The arrangements were made. And it was a bit late to start worrying about it now. It had already happened, the week before. His lovely Julie, his faithful wife of fifteen years and wonderful mother of their two daughters, had given him the surprise of his life. In the back seat of her car she’d opened her legs and had let a complete stranger fuck her, just to satisfy his fantasies. He shuddered. But in revulsion or ecstasy? He didn’t even want to think about it. He just wanted it to happen again. Tonight.

* * * * * *

A mile or so away, stuck in the same slow-moving traffic, the man in the gray van stared at the back of the stationary truck in front of him and wondered what the coming night would bring.

It had been ten years since his medical discharge from the Army and these days he was a maintenance engineer for an intruder alarm company. A logical choice for a soldier whose special field had been the construction of booby-traps. He was respected rather than liked by his colleagues - not least because of his willingness to take their places on the night call-out roster. Nights suited him fine. He had no family, and call-outs gave him every reason to be driving around in the small hours, doing his watching and boosting his income with the occasional burglary. He lived alone in a cottage on what had once been a grand estate and was now a Golf and Country club.

There were no neighbors to speak of but he’d gone out of his way to befriend the head green-keeper, who lived in a similar cottage half a mile away. You could never be too careful. He kept himself to himself and hardly ever used the local village. And he never watched any of the couples that would sometimes park in the woods around the golf course.

Instead, his favorite patch was the two square miles or so of The Heath, some ten miles distant. And he’d be there tonight, like most nights. Yeah, you could always rely on Friday for something.

* * * * * *

The Roundhouse was packed and Phil was already there, watching the door, waiting for them. He bought the drinks but there was nowhwere to sit and the music was too loud to talk. So they drank up and Julie suggested a wine bar she knew in the city center. In a twist that Rich hadn’t expected, Phil didn’t know the way, so Julie suggested she went along in his car, to give directions.

Rich wasn’t too happy about this. What if they shot off somewhere and he never saw them again? But it was the only practical solution. Even so, he kept a close eye on the mirror during the five minute journey.

* * * * * *

Ten miles away, the man in the van changed into black overalls and carefully checked his batteries. Then packed his camcorder in one toolbox and his night sight and adapter in another. The night vision goggles went in the glove compartment. If you were an alarm engineer on a call-out in the middle of the night, they wouldn’t be difficult to explain.

He checked his watch. Eight o’clock. An hour before dusk. If he got his skates on, he might catch that young couple in the Ford. The ones that couldn’t wait for it to get dark.

* * * * * *

Richie was beginning to relax. Phil hadn’t whisked Julie away the second he got the chance and the wine bar, he had to admit, had been an inspired choice. It was expensive and exclusive, with alcoves that seemed designed for planning assignations such as this. Strange that he’d never heard her mention it before. Julie ordered a bottle of her favorite white wine and even though he was doing the driving again, Rich poured himself a glass. He needed it.

But no-one seemed in the mood for the sort of heavy drinking they’d done the previous week. Phil was good company and charmed them both with stories of his clashes with his wife Anne’s middle class ways, her wealthy parents and stuck-up friends. But they were just killing time, waiting for it to get dark. The second bottle lasted until ten o’clock. Julie decided she had to do something.

“Shall we make a move, then, guys? Our baby-sitter can’t stay tonight, Phil, so we can’t be too late.” She lies so well, so easily, sometimes, thought Rich uneasily.

“Yeah, right. Your car? I’ll leave mine outside.”

* * * * *

The drive up to The Heath was in silence. Phil had tried to get in the back with Julie, the same as the week before, but she’d told him to get in the front with Rich. Put firmly in his place, he’d done as he was told and they were well on their way up the hill before he’d realized that she’d been right, there’d been people about and it would have looked odd to have made Rich sit in the front on his own, like a chauffeur. As they turned onto the narrow road that led up to The Heath, Julie broke the silence.

“Richie, can we go to the same place as last week, love.”

“OK!”

It hadn’t been a question.

* * * * * *

From inside the car, The Heath looked completely black.

But outside, thought Julie, there’ll be enough light for him to see everything, if he was there again. If he got close enough, like last week. But once the two men climbed into the back with her, one on either side, she had other things to think about. Phil was eager to claim her first and ever the gentleman, Rich sat back, while his wife kissed Phil deeply and passionately.

The buttoned dress she’d worn last Friday had been ruined by their semen stains and tonight she wore a cream silk blouse and flowing summer skirt over the white underwear Rich had chosen for her. “Get in the back straight away this time and join in,” she told him. “But let him go first. OK, Rich?” He agreed eagerly but it was a tight squeeze and their bodies were touching, so it seemed entirely natural to turn towards her and run his hand up and down her thigh. Through the thin, silky material he could feel every detail of her garters, even the texture of her stocking tops and the line where they ended. Delicately he traced his finger tips higher, trailing them across the exquisite smoothness. His wife and her lover parted briefly, Julie gasping quietly, and tilting her head back to offer Phil her neck. And, Rich noticed, lifting his hand up from her hip and placing on her right breast. She was breathing hard now, her eyes shut tight. But her mind wasn’t on either of them. Was he out there, she wondered, her secret voyeur? Watching her like last week? Watching her make love to two men at the same time? Wanting her, hard for her? She shuddered with pleasure as. Phil’s hand found the buttons on her blouse. She’d left one more than usual open to make the most of her cleavage and Phil and Rich hadn’t been the only ones in the wine bar to notice. She always enjoyed watching the effect her breasts had on men. And now she was going to show them off again. And not just to the two men in the car. She felt two more buttons go and Phil found her mouth again. And oh God, what was Richie up to down there. . . .

Phil broke away again and pushed her back into the seat, while he finished undoing her blouse. She stretched her arms out and put them behind her men, wanting to feel trapped, helpless to stop them taking their pleasures. Powerless as the eyes of her secret admirer feasted on her breasts, gloating as they came into view.

Rich jumped as the heel of her shoe scraped his instep, when his wife opened her legs and put one foot either side of the transmission tunnel. He reached down for the hem of her skirt and slipped his hand up inside, feeling how wide apart they were, sliding it up to her stocking tops, skimming the warm silken skin of her inner thigh, the dampness where her legs had pressed together. Phil had got her blouse off now and was mouthing her breasts through the delicate white lace of her bra, biting softly into the valley of her cleavage. Julie was looking strangely at Rich, as if she knew he was there but couldn’t see him. Offering her wet, open mouth. Willing him to kiss her.

He did and she pushed her tongue into him instantly, pulling hard with the hand behind his head. He could feel Phil nuzzling her tits, inches away from him, feel his hair brushing against his face as he went from one breast to the other. Still she pulled him deeper, kissing him passionately until at last, they had to breathe and pulled apart.

With her right hand Julie pressed down firmly on Phil’s head and he responded, sliding to the floor, licking and nibbling her stomach, his hand well up her skirt. Both of her boys were working on her thighs now and she wondered who would be the first to slip under the elastic of her knickers and claim the prize.

She pulled Rich’s head down to her breasts. What if they are still wet from Phil, she thought, it serves you right.

Where was he, her secret lover? Was he outside, watching? She looked over Rich’s head and saw that the glass had steamed up. Without thinking, she reached out and wiped it with the back of her hand. Still nothing. Perhaps he was waiting for her to show a bit more before taking too many risks. After all, he’d nearly been caught last week. She pulled Rich’s head up.

“Help me with my bra, love.”

She arched her back and he found the catch and popped it one-handed. Not waiting for him, she pulled it up and over her breasts. They slipped into view , soft and fat and white as milk.

“One each, boys.” she offered breathlessly and lay back as they both suckled her noisily. Rich had been too slow and when he reached the top of her thigh could feel Phil’s wrist working vigorously. He ran his fingertips across to where her pants should have been tight across her mound but instead found his rival’s knuckles. Desperately wanting to see, he slid his hand back down to the hem of her dress, catching it in the gap between his finger and thumb, working it upwards, as he smoothed and stroked her thigh. But Julie was getting impatient and brought her hands round, gathering the material and pulling it up to her waist. Looking down, Rich saw Julie grip Phil’s wrist and pull on it. Then she arched her back again, to lift herself off the seat. Hooking her thumbs into the elastic of her panties, she pushed them down. Phil took his hand away and between the three of them, they managed to get them off.

Shamelessly, Julie settled back into the seat and spread her legs across theirs. She smiled in the dim light and thought of the effect it would have on her secret admirer. As Rich kissed her, he felt her push Phil downwards again.

Julie had made it quite clear what she wanted from him and Phil was delighted to oblige. His wife considered anything like this to be a capital offense and it had been years since he had really tasted pussy. And never one as good as this. She smelt of flowers and lemons and tasted like honey and cream.

He gorged himself, pulling her further down the seat towards him, forcing his tongue deeper, faster, until the little rib of muscle underneath it split. Ignoring the pain, he plunged his tongue in and out, up and down, until at last Julie had to tear her mouth away from Rich and stop him before she came. “Please, Phil, please!” She pulled on his hair and he surfaced, his face shiny with her juices. “Come up here, where I can get at you. Come on!”

He climbed back onto the seat while Julie changed position, kneeling sideways on the seat between her two suitors, facing Phil. They kissed deeply and she could taste the sharp tang of herself on him. Richie lay back, with Julie’s knees between his legs, her naked pussy filling his left hand. Instinctively he slipped two fingers into her. As she went down on Phil, Julie pulled her dress over her hips, blatantly presenting her full, round ass to the darkened window.

Her hands went to work on Phil’s pants, her fingers searching for his zip. She found it and pulled it down, then went got busy on his belt and buttons. Within seconds his manhood, hard and proud, was out in the open, and she tugged and pulled at his pants. When they were clear, she took him into her hand, drawing back his foreskin, squeezing and stroking his hardness.

Richie felt her push backwards, impaling herself deeper on his fingers, as she made room to bend forward, her head going down, down, into Phil’s lap. In the crush and the darkness, he missed the moment her mouth closed over Phil’s cock but knew exactly when it happened, for he, too, had made the same sound many times, taken the same sharp intake of breath that Phil took, as her head slid slowly downwards, engulfing him in the warm, wet suction of her mouth.

But Phil had spent too long with his tongue up her pussy and was already on the brink of coming. Desperately he tried to bring himself under control, to slow her down, but Julie would not be stopped and she sucked and pumped until every nerve-ending was agonizingly, exquisitely alive. Pumped and sucked until he could feel his life force, his seed, being pulled from deep within, pulled up by a vacuum pleading to be filled, erupting into her mouth , feeling the spasms begin, helpless in his ecstasy.

“Julie, be careful! Oh Christ, I’m going to come. Julie!”

But Julie had always intended to drain him this way and wasn’t to be denied by Phil pulling upwards on her hair. She felt him throb and twitch and thrust upwards as the first hot pulse of sperm erupted in her mouth, coating her tongue with the taste of soft bleach. Two, three, four spurts and finally a fifth, weaker one followed, filling her mouth with warm, salty manhood. She never swallowed Richie’s normally, pushing it back out, onto his prick. Except for once or twice, on special occasions. And what was this, if not special? She came up for air and gulped it down, along with his sperm. Feeling him soften, she squeezed hard and went back down for the last drop, the single precious jewel she knew would be there. Then she took the whole of his shrinking cock into her mouth and thrust backwards, into Richie’s fingers, forming themselves into a fist. . . .

At last she pulled away from him, shattered. She felt so weak, so tender that she couldn’t bear to let it go on. She knew Richie was still hard but she was quite beyond caring. She was due some selfish pleasures. Always so eager to get it over with, Rich never spent long with his head between her legs. Not like Phil had.

But Phil had recovered fast and was already thinking about the time. He wanted to discretely check his watch but it was dark and he could hardly ask Rich to put the light on. Still, he ought to broach the subject.

“Wow, that was something!” His legs were stiff and he sat up with difficulty. Julie started to get dressed. Suddenly it all seemed very cramped in the back of the car.

“It must be getting on. Any later than twelve and I can expect trouble when I get in.”

“Did you enjoy it? ” asked Julie softly.

“It was fantastic, Julie. First time ever for me.” Please God, don’t let her want to kiss me, he thought. But it was Richie that Julie had plans for. Transfixed, he watched as she turned and came to him, taking her hot, tainted kiss automatically until at last her tongue found his and teased a response from him. His erection was painful but she drew away with a smile and a final squeeze of his prick.

“Come on,” she said. “Phil’s got to get back.”

The drive down to the town was quiet and relaxed. Phil knew he mustn’t kiss Julie goodbye in public, so he turned round and reached between the seats and their fingers touched.

“I’ll give you a ring next week, Phil.” said Rich. “We’ll try to sort out something a bit more comfortable.” They said their good-byes and pulled away. Julie had made no effort to get into the front. Richie hoped and prayed she’d ask. He’d had a hard-on for hours.

“Richie. . . . ?” Her voice was soft and dreamy.

“Can we go back up The Heath?”

* * * * * *

The same sudden silence, the moment he switched the engine off. The same deserted pull-in, where it had all happened less than an hour ago. And suddenly the same metallic ticking from the exhaust. He turned around. Julie was sprawled across the back seat, her legs open, her skirt high up and her hands slowly going up and down the insides of her thighs. But her head was turned away from him. She was looking out of the window.

“Richie?”

“Yeah?”

“Stay where you are for a bit.”

“OK.”

“Ritchie?”

“Huh-huh.”

“Do all men like to watch?”

“Yeah. Guess so. Why?”

“Well, don’t lose your temper or anything but I think someone was watching us from over there, just now, when Phil was with us.”

Rich instantly reached for the door handle.

“Don’t Rich!” she shouted. He froze, his fists clenched in anger.

“Don’t be such a hypocrite.” she said, in her little girl voice. “He’s no different than you. He wanted a good look and so did you.”

The same silence, the same slow ticking. Richie’s heavy breathing.

“Anyway …” Her voice was softer still now, teasing.

“How d’you know that I didn’t enjoy it? Actually, I did. Knowing he was watching. Knowing you and Phil didn’t know. He was over there, on your side, so you couldn’t see him. But I could. He ducked down when he knew I’d spotted him. But he was soon there again. I looked straight at him and smiled. He must have had a lovely view.”

This was a Julie he’d never known before! So that was the strange look on her face. She hadn’t been looking at him at all but over his shoulder. He remembered how shamelessly she’d spread her legs when they’d taken her panties off. Richie’s mouth was dry. This was getting too complicated. Julie’s hands were working faster now and the skirt was higher still, showing the white thighs above her stocking tops. Rich sat perfectly still. Speechless. Watching.

“Richie?”

“Mmmmm …”

“D’you think he’s still out there?

“Maybe …”

The thought bothered him but he had other things to think about. This faithful wife, this perfect mother, was behaving like a complete slut and all he could do was sit there fascinated, hoping for more. He felt his erection returning.

“If he is, d’you think he can see anything?”

She pulled her skirt up higher. He could see her plump mound stretching the white lace of her pants.

“Well I can, so I suppose he can. If he’s still out there. I can’t see anything.”

“No ,don’t turn around! You might frighten him off.”

The skirt came up over her hips and around her waist. Now he could see her white belly. Her hands went back to the insides of her thighs, her gaze never leaving the window by his shoulder.

“P’raps we should put the light on, Rich. Give him some encouragement. What d’you think?” Both hands were down the front of her briefs now. He pulled the switch and the interior light came on.

“That’s better. Now keep still and don’t look round. I’ll tell you if I see anything.” Her hands went back inside her knickers. Still she stared out at the blackness. “Mmmmmmm …. oh God Richie ….. oh God this is so horny.”

Rich felt as high as a kite. What the hell was going on? How was he supposed to react? Shout at her? Stop her? What? But oh Christ, she looked so good! She was a beautiful woman in the prime of her life and she was his and he loved her and felt proud of her. She was right, it was horny. Oh, what the hell, he thought. Let him watch if he’s out there. What if it did turn her on? Where was the harm?

One by one the buttons of her blouse opened up again, revealing her big, beautiful breasts, packed tight in the new bra that pushed them together so well. Still staring over his shoulder, she sat up and slipped the blouse off her shoulders, making a show of taking it off and draping it over the front seat. She leaned forward, kissed him deeply and reached behind her for the bra clasp. Richie heard it give as the tension released. With her bare shoulders right under the central light, no-one could have mistaken what she was doing. She pulled back from him and slipped it off, draping it over the dress, her breasts swinging free. Then she wiped away the mist that was forming on the window, pressed her face against the glass and peered into the darkness.

After a while, her eyes adjusted and she could make out the grass flats that formed the picnic areas; the shrubs, bushes and trees that provided cover. And slowly it dawned on her that some twenty feet away she could see a shape in the darkness, a man sitting on a low wall. Watching. And though she couldn’t swear to it, she thought his hand was working away in his lap.

“Turn the lights up a bit Rich… please.”

Her secret lover was watching and she wanted to show him more. Close up to the glass, she waved slowly to him with one hand, shielding her eyes with the other, to see better. There was no mistake, he was waving back. The blood pounded in her ears. There was no going back now. She was going to show him everything. Slowly, deliberately, she put her forefinger into her mouth, in and out, in and out. Then, with the same wet finger, beckoned him.

“It’s working Richie. He’s coming over. Don’t move a muscle. Lets have some fun with him.”

Mesmerized, Rich sat watching, as still as a statue.

Never taking her eyes off the window, Julie lay back in the seat and ran her hands up and down her body, pushing her soft white breasts together, showing off her bush of black curls by pulling her panties to one side, then pushing them down to her knees and finally taking them off. Spreading her legs, she pulled her sex wide open, her labia glistening in the interior light. Wetting her right index finger with her tongue, she started working it around and around, opening the soft petals of flesh, coaxing back the hood and teasing her clitoris into view. She built up speed, her breathing getting faster, until she was groaning with pleasure, plunging her fingers deep inside, opening herself wider. At last she couldn’t wait any longer.

“Oh Rich, fuck me Rich! Fuck me! Oh God I need your prick! Fuck me Rich!”

Rich was already pulling at his clothes, his own needs suddenly becoming urgent. But it was too cramped and knowing that he would come soon, he gave up and tried to force his way between the seats. But they were too big and he couldn’t get over them because of the head-rests. In desperation he opened the door and virtually fell out, his shirt undone, his pants halfway down his legs. The watcher had backed off, ready for trouble. But Rich could only think of his Julie and Phil and her mouthful of cream. He wanted the same as Phil, to feel the same sensations that Phil had, to fill the same hot little mouth with his cream, feeling her suck and swallow, mixing their sperms together in her belly. Ignoring her desperate pleas for him to fuck her, he stood at the open door.

“Suck it, Ju, please! Swallow it, like you did for him. Please, Ju.”

Julie froze in shock, as if someone had thrown cold water over her. The bastard. The selfish fucking bastard. Well, if he didn’t want to fuck her, she sure as hell knew someone who did. Her voice was cold and brisk. “OK, get inside. Come on, lie down.”

She moved to one side and he dived into the back. She pushed him onto his back, lengthwise across the seat. “Wait, there’s no room. I’ll get cramp like this. There, that’s better.” She twisted around and slowly worked her long, stockinged legs backwards, out of the open door, running her tongue down his chest, his belly and finally his prick. Her feet touched the ground and she opened her legs and stuck out her rump in a mute but eloquent plea to her secret admirer.

“Don’t come yet, Richie!” she pleaded, “Close your eyes. I want you to come in my mouth. That’s it, now keep them shut tight. I promise I’ll swallow, if you don’t open them.”

The inside of Julie’s mouth was, Rich had discovered long ago, the closest he was ever going to get to Heaven. The sensations were so delectable, the waves of feeling so endless, that time stood still and fantasy and reality merged in an unrelenting stream of pleasure. Pleasure so intense it almost hurt. He squeezed his eyes shut to enjoy the dream the better, letting her go to work with her lips, tongue and sharp little teeth, building up his orgasm, while he floated weightlessly in space.

But if Rich was on his way to the stars, the watcher’s feet were planted firmly on Earth. A few inches behind Julie’s. And his prick was hard in his hand.

Neither Julie or Rich knew that some couples came up here for just this and there was usually someone like Stan around to provide any services required. Not that it usually went as fast as this. Usually they built up to it gradually, first putting on a show to attract the toms, then later on perhaps opening a window and eventually the passenger door. Stan had fucked ten or twelve over the years but never one like this. This one was young and beautiful, a description you couldn’t apply to most of them. Her soft, white buttocks thrust back invitingly, framed perfectly in white stockings and garter belt. Even so, he waited till she waved him forwards with her free hand. Instinct and experience told him that this was new, dangerous ground. Surely she wasn’t going to do it without her man knowing? She fucking well was! Christ, this was risky! But still, if that’s what she wanted, he was ready for her. Actually he’d been ready ever since they made eye contact last week during her threesome.

And now here she was waving him on. Well, if that was her game, he was her man. If only he could stop himself coming. Still unsure, he stroked the back and insides of her open thighs, up and around, feeling the thick bush of curls and her wetness on his fingers. But she obviously wanted it fast and rough and reached up between her legs, grabbed his wrist and pulled him in. She was hot and wet and open and took three fingers without flinching. Christ, he could even feel her cervix as she pushed back into him. What if the guy opened his eyes? Fuck it, she was between them and he’d have a good start. And he knew every inch of this heath, even in the dark. If only he could hold back a bit longer.

Bent forwards, legs apart, she presented herself perfectly to him. He pulled back his foreskin, dipped his knees, found the entrance, straightened his legs and slipped smoothly into her, just as he started to come. Grabbing her soft, fleshy hips, he pulled her onto him in full penetration, clenching his teeth, trying not to pound her, trying to come quietly, without thrusting, his knees shaking, as she took one jet after another of his hot sperm into her. Almost before he’d finished, certainly before he’d squeezed the last drops out, he felt her hand pushing him away and she leaned forwards, disengaging abruptly. The same hand then made a frantic, unmistakable gesture for him to go. Obviously she was terrified that her man would realize what had happened.

So Stan backed off, zipped himself up and went back to his wall. The danger had passed and the whole sordid episode had taken no more than a minute. And he’d been inside her for less than half that, he reckoned. His chest was heaving and gusts of stale sweat rose from his old camouflage jacket. And his nose was running again. He hawked the snot back with a snort. Not bad for someone his age. She could only be about thirty. Another one on the list. He shook with relief as he realized the danger had passed and he’d got away with it. He’d had plenty of threesomes up here but never one like this. Not with the other bloke not knowing. Fuck me, you took a chance Stan, he told himself. His hands still trembled. What about that poor bastard with her! It didn’t seem right somehow. She must be a right little whore.

“Are you going to come yet?” Her voice broke into Richie’s dream.

“Yeah . . .I can’t last much longer.”

Julie climbed into the car and straddled him. She was calmer now her watcher had gone, in control. Richie could forget about coming in her mouth. She had other plans for him. Watching him intently, she positioned herself just right. This is just for you, Richie, she thought. This is for fifteen years of coming too quick. For wanting another man to do the job for you. Well now two of them have, my love. And that’s just in the last seven days. I won’t mention the others that have done it for you in the past, darling. I haven’t got time. Now, let me introduce you to my new man, my secret lover. So secret even I don’t know who he is. But I do know he’s a real man, Richie, I do know he likes to fuck me, because that’s exactly what he’s just done, darling, while you were busy thinking about yourself, as usual. And Richie darling, he’s left something in there for you. A present. A nice fresh slice of warm cream pie. Enjoy! She lowered herself and slipped easily onto his prick. Mmmmm, fresh cream, Richie. The perfect lubricant. “That nice, Richie? Am I wet enough for you?”

Christ she was hot! He’d never known her cunt so smooth, so slick before. She felt full of warm, silken oil, full of a thousand miniature mouths sucking away at him. Helpless, he exploded into her, arching his back, thrusting blindly upwards, emptying his balls into the warm jelly of a stranger’s sperm that was already filling her womb. And never suspecting a thing.

Even in the dim light, Stan could see every detail from his viewpoint on the wall. Julie’s beautiful white buns pumping up and down, Richie’s cock going in and out. Even the white collar of semen, his semen, forming around the base.

He sniffed hard and laughed softly to himself. And when he heard Richie cry out as he came, he laughed again, louder this time. What was the name for guys like this? Cuckolds, that was it. The poor bastard’s wife had just taken a wet fuck off another man and he been so busy enjoying his blow-job he didn’t know that a complete stranger had crept up and had his wife from behind. Filled her classy little pussy full of common come, just so the little whore could serve it up to her husband moments later. A generous helping of sloppy seconds for you, old son, courtesy of a man twice your age!

Cuckold, that was the word. He vaguely remembered reading about them somewhere. Was it in Shakespeare? How in medieval times, men whose wives had been caught in adultery were objects of fun and derision, and made to wear the horns of the cuckold. A pair of antlers would be strapped to their heads and they’d be paraded through the streets for everyone’s amusement, where they would pelted with rotten vegetables and have full piss-pots emptied over them. Then the unfaithful wife would be put in the standing stocks on the village green and left out all night, her head and hands trapped, her ass stuck out invitingly, to be mounted and fucked by all and sundry under cover of darkness.

Yeah, that’s how they dealt with faithless wives and cuckolded husbands in the old days. They didn’t wear horns any more but the man he’d just cuckolded was wearing a white collar of another man’s sperm around his wilting prick and the sight was just as funny. He laughed again, softer this time, now their cries of pleasure had subsided. The cuckold’s collar, that was the modern equivalent of the horns. How many other men had left one down there for the poor bastard to wear?

It was time to disappear before the youngster recovered, there was no point in pushing his luck. He repeated the car’s registration number several times to himself. He’d write it down when he got back to his car, just in case they came back one night. And no telling the rest of the toms, either. This one was for himself. He didn’t want sloppy seconds. Mind you, he thought, I don’t suppose her old man did, either. He laughed again and started the engine. Cuckold, that was the word!

* * *

From his vantage point above them, the man in black overalls watched Stan’s lights fade away. The couple in the Renault were beginning to recover and had started looking for their clothes. He crawled backwards a few yards to the cover of a bramble bush and stood painfully upright. He’d been crouched motionless for most of the evening and his knees were stiff. Keeping below the skyline, he worked his way down to the path and ran silently the quarter of a mile to the public car park where he’d left his van. From the cover of the deserted toilet block he scanned the area for a full minute. Satisfied that no-one was staking it out, he took off the night vision goggles, packed them in his waterproof hold-all with the rest of his kit, and stashed it behind a waste bin by the roadside. He’d pick it up on his way out, once he’d cleared the car park without being challenged.

By his reckoning they’d be another ten minutes at least. Plenty of time to get into position. He started the van and drove slowly onto the access road. Stopping at the bin, he switched off his lights, picked up his bag, took out his night vision kit and stashed the rest in his big, lockable tool box. Then he slipped off the trendy covers from the spotlights recessed into the radiator grill. In the dim glow of the distant sodium lights the glass looked black, the same as in the odd looking goggles he was wearing.

* * *

At last, tired and contented, Rich and Julie started the ten mile drive home. It was nearly two in the morning and there was no-one around. If anyone had tried to follow them down the narrow, winding road that led back to town, Rich would have spotted their lights.

But there were none, even though he was cautious enough to check. Can’t be too careful with peeping toms about, he thought.

But the road behind them was dark and he relaxed, enjoying the warm afterglow. Things hadn’t quite worked out as planned but he wasn’t complaining. It was still another first. Phil had just left the cream pie in her mouth, that was all. The same mouth that had then kissed his mouth and engulfed his prick.

* * *

The man in black waited until they drove past and gave them a five hundred yards start. Their rear lights were uncomfortably bright in his goggles and he winced each time they braked. His spotlights were on their maximum downwards adjustment and their dark red filters cut the light down to a practically invisible, dull red glow.

Through the infra-red goggles, however, they lit up the road ahead in a flood of bright green. The isolator switch he’d fitted made sure no other light on the car was live.

The road from The Heath ended at a T junction with a busy main road and the Renault turned left and went down towards the town. The road was well lit now and he took the goggles off before the lights blinded him. He clicked the secret switch and his normal lights came on. His eyes hurt, nothing unusual after wearing his night vision rig for several hours.

There were hardly any other cars around at this hour, so he could afford to stay well back, varying his distance, closing up each time they approached a traffic light. Just in case he had to jump it.

* * *

Rich drove at a steady pace. There was always a chance of getting stopped at this time of the morning and he didn’t want to spoil a perfect evening. Who’d have thought it, eh? Who’d have thought the quiet little mouse he’d married would have spent all evening acting like a hooker, just to please him! And what about the show she’d put on for that peeping tom? That had been un-fucking-believable. It was almost as if she’d enjoyed it. This was the woman, he reminded himself again, that was so shy she wouldn’t even take off her bikini top on a quiet beach. It was all very complicated. He’d really have to sit down and work this out. All kinds of possibilities had opened up. Not so much a Friday night out, as another milestone in our marriage, he thought to himself.

At last they pulled into the drive of number seventeen and as quietly as they could, locked the car doors and went inside. Julie left him to unwind with a well-earned drink while she crept upstairs, slipped out of her clothes for the third time that night and got under a hot shower. A very hot shower. Suddenly she was desperate to feel clean again.

Out in the warm summer night, the man in black was still watching. Making mental notes of the number of the other car in the drive, the simple cylinder lock on the front door, the exterior phone cable and the absence of an obvious burglar alarm.

Unlike Stan, he didn’t write anything down. He didn’t need to. He let out the clutch and drove quietly home. Yep, you could always rely on a Friday night for something.

First off, I am 5″7″ tall, weigh 120 Lbs, and have redish brown hair, on my head and my pussy. I am considered atractive, but I’m not the Marilyn Monroe of the 90’s. I keep myself physically fit with arobics and diet when necessary. Bill is also slim and muscular and we look good together. We’ve read a lot about guys who want to see thier wives have sex with another guy or another woman. We hadn’t really discussed it in length, just kind of had it in mind and talked about it some. The other woman thing is completley out as far as I am concerned anyway! blah!!

We do enjoy the outdoors and quite often go hiking way out into the desert or up in the mountains. Bill’s hobby is photography so he loves to take nude shots of me when we are alone. We often strip completely bare and hike that way and make love out in the wilderness. Bill loves the redish tint to my brown pussy hair and prefers that I don’t trim it. So going to the beach or pools is out. We have our own swimming pool which makes it easier, for me not to trim it.

Anyway, on this patticular ocassion Bill not only brought along his regualr camera, but also brought his camcorder and tripod. It was on a nice and warm summer day, Saturday. The kids were at camp with the kids next door. We decided to go out on one of our naked hikes and photography sessions. We drove out to one of our favorite places, parked the car and struck out for parts unknown.

Once out far enough, we both stripped completely nude except for our hiking boots and kept hiking. Bill had the equipment and a blanket in a back pack he brought with some wine and water for us to enjoy later. We came to a nice rocky area that was very nicely sandy like a beach. We spread the blanket and I took off my boots and socks and laid on the blanket doing a series of sexy poses for Bill and his camera. They were having an effect as I watched his cock begin to harden as he kept shooting pictures. He had set up the camcorder on a tripod, and was going to save that for when we made love.

I was laying on the blanket with my one leg raised so he could get a good shot of my pussy, when I thought I saw someone behind one of the rocks nearby. I told Bill about what I thought I had seen and he dismissed it as me seeing things because we were way out in the middle of nowhere. But I swore I had seen someone. Bill finally put the camers down and went over and behind the rocks where I had seen the movement. After a couple of minutes, to my surprise, he came back around the rocks with another guy. I quickly got up and was going for my clothes, when Bill told me to relax and stay put. I sat up and crossed my legs indian style and held my hands in front of my pussy. My breasts were in full view of the stranger though. He turned out to be a collage student aged 24 who was doing research on old mines in the area. He had a metal detector with him and a knap sack on his back. Bill introduced us. His name was Carl. Bill explained what we were doing and we kind of chatted for a while. A glance at Carl’s crotch of his cutoffs showed that he was at least glad to see me naked. He had a big bulge sticking out. Bill began taking some more pictures of me with the still camera. But I wouldn’t pose with Carl there. Then Bill handed Carl the camera and said “Here you take a few of us together”

I couldn’t believe He was doing this. Bill got on the blanket with me and at first just sat next to me, then his arm around my shoulders. Then he held my right breast up to the camera and started playing with the nipple. I must tell you that I have very large and sensative nipples. At first I brushed his hands away, but when he began to suck on of my hard nipples, my hand went to his head and pulled him close, and my legs spread.

If it weren’t for the clicking of the camera, I would not have been aware of anyone being there. By now Bill had me flat on my back, with my legs spread wide and he was sucking me like crazy. His tongue was tracing my entire slit. When he began nibbling on my clit, I was almost ready to cum. I opened my eyes and gasped at what I saw. Carl had stopped shooting and had taken off his cutoffs. He was slowly stroking his cock as he watched us! He had a little bit bigger one and thicker than Bill’s from what I could see. But the thought of laying there in front of a total stranger, jerking his cock while watching us, put me over the top and I came very hard.

Bill got up from between my legs and sat up on a rock, by the blanket. His cock was sticking straight up, I could tell he was also excited at being in front of a stranger. I knew what he wanted and got up and walked over to him. I leaned over and took his cock into my mouth. Carl came around to the side of us and snapped a few pictures of me sucking Bill. Then I heard them say something but I didn’t know what it was. Until I felt Carl’s tongue slide between my pussy lips from behind! GOD what a feeling that was. As I sucked Bill, Carl wildly tongued my pussy, with Bill asking me if it felt good and did I like it with two guys. I could only mummble around his cock.

I was getting close to cumming when I felt Carl move up to my asshole and begin tonguing me there! Bill never even had done that, it felt great. I had to pull off of Bill’s cock to let out a little scream of pleasure as I felt Carl penetrate my anus with his tongue. Then he stopped to my dismay! I wanted him to make me cum like that, I was Soooooo close.

But shortly after he left, I felt the head of his cock against my pussy lips. Then he slid in a couple of inches. I lost it as he plunged into me fully. I pullled off of Bill’s cock and screamed out my pleasure. Bill erupted into my face with his first spurt, but I took him back in and drank him down as Carl pumped me from behind. The feeling of having one guy fuck you while you suck the other, is one that words can not describe. You have to experience it to know how wonderful it is. You ladies who have tried it know what I am talking about!

After Bill went soft in my mouth, I laid my head against his chest and pumped my ass back to Carl as he fucked me good. He let out a groan and I could tell he was getting close, so was I. He asked me if I wanted him to cum inside of me. I looked up at Bill and asked him. He told me if I wanted him to it was up to me. I screamed Yessssss Carl fill my pussy with your hot cum. I looked into my husband’s eyes and held his hand tight as another cock was shooting into my pussy. The sensation was so great that I almost passed out from the orgasm. It was the best orgasm of my life!

Bill set up the camcorder, and I sucked Carl off as my husband shot into me this time. Then we lay in the sun for a while before, I squatted onto Carl and fucked him for the camera. It was the sexiest time I’ve ever had. Since then Carl has come over to our house and we have repeated our three way many times with many variations. We even saw a porn movie where the woman got on top of one guy and took him into her pussy, then the other guy put his into her ass at the same time. It was tricky but we managed to do that! You gals will not believe the violent climax that can create! I did pass out the first time from sheer pleasure. A cock shooting into your ass and one in your pussy is a rare feeling!

I love laying on the bed with one guy on his back as I kneel between his legs and suck his cock, while the other guy puts his deep into my pussy from behind. But it is hard on my knees and I can’t take too much of it. So my next favorite is to have one guy sit in a chair, and I sit on his cock with my back to him, as the other guy is in front for me to blow him.

Since this happened, Carl has brought over a friend with our permission, and he and his friend did me while Bill watched and filmed. I tried doing it with all three also. One in my ass, one in my pussy, sucking one, That is a trip also. But best of all I like just 2 at a time. I love it when Bill is watching and then slides his cock into me right after me and the guys cum, it never fails to bring me to another strong cum!

As a matter of fact, writing this and telling you about it has made wet, as hell. I’ll have to get one of the videos out and play with myself until Bill gets home and can give me some cock. It never fails to arouse him when he walks into the bedroom and one of the vidoes is on the T.V. and my finger or vibrator is deep in my pussy! He is harder than when we first met, and I love it!!!!

We are both in our early 30’s, and both have careers, so we decided on not having children or maybe adopting later in life. Karen is a gorgeous, auburn haired 5″6″, 125 Lb. woman. She is always receiving stares whereever we go. That always kind of turned me on to see other guys staring at my wife. So it was an easy transition for me to want to see her with another guy. It started after I had read about it in some of the stories about men who get turned on watching their wives fuck another guy.

Karen had a fantasy of getting two men at one time, which kind of fit along the lines of my fantasy. But thats all they were was fantasies. We used them while making love to heighten our climaxes. Karen would straddle me and take me deep into her and begin to tell me how much she would love to be in a bed with two guys, one fucking her from behind while she sucked the other guys cock at the same time. Or I’d tell her how I’d love to be watching as she did it with the two guys. It was harmless and it served our purpose of arousal.

Karen’s parents live out in Arizona, just outside of Tucson. Her dad is a retired builder, who built his own retirement house there in Arizona. We had been out there on several occassions, and loved it. The house was out in the middle of nowhere. The nearest house could barely be seen down the dirt road that acessed the property. The house was forgeous, with 5 bedrooms, 4 complete bathrooms, huge deck and a swimming pool.

Last year, her parents decided they were going to go to Europe on a vacation. Karen’s mom called with a great idea, if we wanted to do it. We would take our vacations at the same time and go out and house sit and relax at their home for the two weeks that they would be gone. I was ready for time off and jumped at the idea.

When we arrived, her parents were leaving the next day, so we took them to the airport. Karen’s mother suddenly said that she had forgotten to tell Jamey that they would be gone for a couple of weeks and not to come over. Who is Jamey i asked. Turns out that Jamey was a neighbor boy who helped my father in law build his house. He was a senior in high school and was on the swim team. My inlaws let him use their pool about twice a week to practice.

My mother in law gave us the phone number and told us to call and to explain the situation to him. We had been there two days already and neither of us remebered to call anybody. The pool area was at the back of the house, and was so private, since the house was even at the end of a long driveway, that we laid around the pool naked and swam that way. It was fun, especially sliding it into Karen’s hot pussy underwater. On the third day, Karen and I had breakfast, and she headed out to the pool to get some sun. I had brought a little bit of work with me, and was going to go into town to find a fax service to send some reports out.

On the road out, a kid past me on a motorcycle going the opposite way. Since our house was the last on the access road, it seemed that he was going there. Then it dawned on me! That must be the kid that my mother in law had told us about. He was on his way to use the pool, since we had forgotten to call him. My wife would be there laying naked in the sun!

I quickly turned the car around and started out to catch up with him. But an evil thought crossed my mind. So what if he did see Karen naked? The though excited me. What would Karen do? As I slowed the car down, my mind began to work. I watched as the motorcycle pulled into the drive of the house. Sure enough, that was where he was going. Since the pool was out back, maybe Karen wouldn’t hear him pull up.

I drove partially up the drive to a bend and went off to the side and got out. I ran up to the corner of the house and saw the young kid at the garage with his motorcycle. He was untying a towel from the back. I snuck around the house to the pool deck. The outer edges of the deck were fenced with a low privacy type pool fence. It also sat off of the ground out at the edge enough for a person to get under the edge of the deck. The fence was the staggered kind that from a distance you couldn’t see through, but up close it was easy.

I raised my head and saw Karen laying stark naked on a chaise lounge. I watched as the kid opened the gate and stepped out onto the pool deck, from the garage side. He didn’t immediately see Karen as he turned and closed the gate behind him. The gate closing startled Karen and she sat up. The kid turned and there was my wife sitting facing him, breasts bare, legs spread on either side of the chaise with her pussy open for his view.

She quickly grabbed a towel and covered herself, as he stammered and excused him self for not knocking. He explained who he was, and Karen told him about how we had forgotten to call him. He said he would leave and come back when her parents were back. To my surprise, I heard my wife say:

“Oh no, you don’t have to go, use the pool since you are here”

“Sure its okay?” “Sure go ahead”

They engaged in small talk as he slid off his shirt, showing his muscule frame from being a swimmer, and then slid off his jeans. He was wearing what they call a speedo siut I think. There wasn’t very much of it, and the front had a tell tale bulge. He dove into the pool and began to swim laps. Karen slipped on her shortie robe as he was swimming away from her and got up and went into the house. I was about to leave and head back to my car when I saw her come back out with a pitcher of lemonade and 2 glasses. She set the tray down on the small deck table next to her chaise.

Jamey was still doing laps in the pool as i watched Karen take off the robe and sit back down on the chaise. My heart began to throb in chest as I thought about what was going to happen. Or maybe just what I wished would happen.

“Want some lemonaide?” I heard Karen call to the swimmer.

He swam up to the side of the pool, and his eyes got big as saucers as he took in my wife’s long brown nipples as they stood from her perky tits. Then his eyes traveled down to her bush as he hoisted himself out of the pool. The front of the speedo suit was one long bulge to his right thigh. You could clearly make out the head of his cock through the thin material. It seemed to be growing as he approached my naked wife.

“I hope you don’t mind? I like nude sunbathing”

“N…N…No not at all”

“I’ll bet you’ve seen a lot of naked girls” He seemed to blush at her remark, but his eyes didn’t leave her tits as he sat at the table. I suddenly realized that I had one hell of a stiff cock in my pants. Just watchinf my beautiful wife expose herself to this young kid was turning me on like never before.

“Do you have a girlfriend?” Karen said as I watched her get up and walk to the table and pour him a glass of lemonaide.

“No not really, I don’t have time with my sports and everything”

“Oh thats too bad…A good looking guy like you”

I watched as Karen sat back on the chaise. Only this time she left her legs spread and feet on the pool deck. She was at a side angle to me, but it was a good enough view to see drops of moisture clinging to her pussy hair and lips. They small talked for a few minutes, and then she asked him to refill her glass and held it out to him. I heard her gasp as he stood. His cock was completely hard and almost bent like a pretzel.

He bashfully got her glass, filled it and brought it back, to her.

“I see you like seeing me naked” He could only stammer something I couldn’t understand as he stood up close to my beautiful wife. As i watched, she swung her legs around and faced the boy. She took the glass from his hand and set it down on the pool deck. She straightened back up and was eye level with his crotch. Luckily i had a kind of sideway view, but could not see the whole detail. So I quietly moved over so I had a good side shot. I was just in time to see Karen run the flat of her hand over his bulge.

“Have you had a woman before?” N…N…NO “MMMMM Good” Was my wife’s answer.

She reached up and pulled the suit down over his bulging cock. Karen let out a loud gasp as his cock was bare before her. For a young kid, he was buily pretty good. He was every bit as big as me, only a little thinner in the shaft. I had a perfect view as my wife wrapped her hand around the shaft and slowly pumped it. A large drop of precum showed at the tip. It was the sexiest thing I ever saw, the drop sparkled in the sunlight, and I watched as Karen leaned forward and lick the drop off withher tongue. She didn’t stop there, as the boy groaned out his pleasure she rook him into her mouth and began sucking him.

It was too much for me to stand, as i freed my own throbbing cock and slowly jerked it while i secretly watched my wife suck another cock. I was close to shooting my wad, when the boy announced that he was going to cum. I know what he was feeling, my wife is top notch when it came to cocksucking. As my wife was making mueling sounds around the hard shaft in her mouth, I knew from the sound that she was swallowing cum. The kid kept groaning and moaning as he emptied himself into my wife’s mouth.

Karen finally backed off and just licked up and down his length and then took his balls into her mouth. She knew what she was doing, the young boy’s cock never got soft! She had him lay on the chaise and then she straddled him. The back of the chaise was to me, so I quickly moved around to get a better look. My wife told the boy that they would have to hurry, before I came back from town. Then she lowered her cunt down and slid him all the way into her hot pussy.

The boy lasted long enough for Karen to have two orgasms before he shot his second load into my wife. With my still hard cock in my pants, I snuck back down to the car and drove up the drive, making sure I made a lot of noise getting out of the car. Jamey came running around the corner with his towel and cloths in his hands.

“I…Just came over to use the pool” He told me