To set the scene I’ll describe us briefly, my wife Maddy is slim with an almost boy-like figure, small breasts, blond pubes and quite a tight little cunt, whereas Peter’s wife Anne is more of a girly rounded figure although I haven’t seen it in any less than a bikini yet. I’m average as is Peter in all areas so nothing really amazing just your normal ‘meet down the road’ type people.

We’ve known each other for some long while and are on kissing and cuddling terms. In fact a couple of times when we’ve all been in their spa together after more than a few too many drinks, I’ve had my hand in Anne’s bathers playing with her cunt. As my fingers recall it feels looser than Maddy’s and definitely has more pronounced lips. I’m pretty sure the others have also engaged in a little of this, although we’ve never talked about it!

This one time Anne had to go north to look after her sick mother for a few days and Peter had walked round from their place for the evening for a bit of company. We had a barbecue going but moved inside later in the evening and were sprawling around listening to music and having the occasional wine. Three or four bottles of into the evening, Maddy managed to spill a glass of red all over her self so off she weaved to the bedroom to change, coming back in a light dressing gown and panties.

We’d all been sitting on the floor (not so far to fall) and she’d flopped down leaning back against Peter with her legs straight out in front, he’s given her a quick kiss and his hand has slipped into her dressing gown to fondle a breast (nothing that hasn’t been done before, but not quite so blatantly). At this point she would normally just slide away once he’d had a quick grope this time however, she just lay back across him and kept on sipping another glass of wine.

(…)
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Deborah dug the way her husband Kenny didn’t dare stop after he came but went right on rodding and reaming her country crock until every ounce of the hot cream was beaten into butt-butter. She was rocking forward on her knees to his top-speed tempo, slobbering and smiling into the stiff white hotel room pillow. She loved the jerky splatter of his cum inside her cunt, loved the anxious snarl of the blond moustache on Kenny’s face as his dick went semi-soft and she took control away from him and got him started tending to her own business. Deborah was kicking and thrashing with urgency, her rump tipped high up and jolting juicily along his boner. Keeping a guy going when he thought he was coming. That was just one of the things she had learned in the ten years since high school. It was all part of getting into slut mode.

“Hurry up, Deb. You’re gonna be late,” Kenny gasped. He was squeezing her tight rear-end tight around his fat ten-incher, trying to put a fuck-lock on her furry fundaments. But Deborah fought back. She wouldn’t let him make her. He had no right. No right at all. Not when she was just finally getting her ass into slut mode.

The best part was, he actually could do it, if she could just keep his prick hard long enough. He was pounding her veal cutlets flat and hot and tender, tickling her titties, taking her right downstream no matter how hard she swam away. Deb knew there was more than one reason she had married this fucking stud–she just couldn’t remember what the other one was. “Oh GOD, yes. SCREW me!” He had her by the ankles now, running her chin crazily down the mattress like a wheelbarrow race.

(…)
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Anne was our best friend. We were inseparable the last two years in college. My wife and I lived in university housing for married students, Anne in the towers across campus. On any giving night we could be found either in our apartment drinking and partying or in the dorm room doing the same. Somehow we still managed to get to class the next day. I still don’t know how.

This night found us an Anne’s trying to console her latest failing attempt at a relationship. My wife and I couldn’t understand it. Anne was pretty, sexy, petite, 5’3″ tall, with the most incredibly green eyes I had ever seen. She had long silky blonde hair, and small but perfectly shaped tits. Her ass was tight and tiny, and her lips were just asking to be kissed. But no matter what she did, the guys would date her once and then vanish into the ozone. And it wasn’t because she was a prude.

She had often told us tales about “the one” she had meant last night at the Petals, our local drinking spot and how they had gone back to her dorm room and fucked each other crazy all night.

(…)
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It was a boring evening. All that I could do is to stare at the television and look at the usual news. The Mets are losing, crime is up, and much like my love life, the stock market is down. Nothing new or exciting. And then the telephone rang. I answered it and it was a woman on the other end. “Hello”, she said.

“This is Mary, is Kevin there?” How nice!! A sweet, sexy woman’s voice calling me but asking for another guy.

“Sorry, ma’am”, I answered, “You have the wrong number”.

We hung up. That voice stayed on my mind and I wondered what did this woman look like. Minutes later, the telephone rings again. When I answered, I was surprised and pleased to hear the voice again. She asked the same question. Only this time, I thought that I would be a bit flirtatious.

“No, Mary…. Kevin isn’t here but, if you don’t mind me saying, I truly love your voice and would love to entertain you just as good as Kevin could if he lived here”.

She laughed at my response and asked my name. “Well, Mary, I’m Roger. But you could call me Rog”.

She giggled a little and said, “Well, Rog. Your voice sounds pretty sexy too”. We ended up talking for hours that evening. We learned a lot about each other. Mary told me that she was a 39 year old office assistant and part time personal trainer at a gym franchise. She explained that she just had her divorce of 5 years finalized and that she was looking for her friend, Kevin, to spend a few hours with to relieve her of her misery. However, our telephone conversation managed to do the trick. I kept Mary laughing and in a good mood. That one evening turned into a daily, 2 hour telephone conversation between Mary and I.

(…)
Read the rest of The Birthday Bang (1,712 words)

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