Secretaries, Secretaries
written by:
Mr. Gingerbread

SECRETARIES, SECRETARIES

By Mr. Gingerbread

(all rights reserved)

(More sexy, adulterous, narrative from my husband's hard-drive. Gingerbread)

CHAPTER I

"Your secretary, what's-her-name (it was Mary), really has beautiful breasts, no wonder you're so wound up about her!"

That's how my wife, Beth, greeted me one day when I came home from work, tired, rattled, and needing a Jack on the rocks. I asked in shock, "How do you know that?"

She reminded me that, when Mary was concerned about the fit of her formal gown, I had mentioned that she, Beth, was a magician with sewing and tailoring, and Mary had had the nerve to contact her. She also reminded me that she thought I had a lot of nerve to offer the wife of a company VP as a seamstress for his secretary!

"I'm proud of your skills," I said, lamely, "but how did you get a look at her breasts?"

"Simple. Her formal is made with a strapless, form-fitting bodice, but it was too tight. That was the whole problem. She had to undress so I could fit it, and, because it had to fit on bra-less breasts, she bared her breasts for me.

"They were beautiful, firm, large, symmetrical, nice nipples, everything", Beth said, and, continued as an afterthought, "as you already know!"

"Did you have to touch them and maneuver them around or anything to make the fit?"

"Of course," she answered in a voice that let me know she was playing me along, "I had to press and pull, even do a bit of tweaking—enough to make her nipples hard."

Beth demonstrated by cupping her own breasts and raising them up, looking at me all the time, saying, "She sort of sighed while I was doing it, but didn't object. In the end, just for the fun of it I cupped hers in my hands, softly, slowly, and slid them down into the tailored bodice. That made her shudder."

"Oh God, it does more than that to me, Honey."

"Yes, I can tell, Dear. Do we have time for you to do it to me before dinner?"

Yes, we did. She sat back in her lounge chair while I kneeled and delivered. Afterward I sat in the other chair while we talked about Mary's breasts and the rest of her, too—- which was not that beautiful to me (as I told Beth), large thighs and rump, ass cheeks that were prominent when she walked, but with nice calves and ankles. Beth added that her tummy was nice and flat for someone who was "as plump as she is". Beth admitted being turned on by Mary, her "who gives a damn" attitude, as well as her breath smelling of cigarettes. Beth had been a smoker and given it up, but still remembered the rush of that first deep inhale, and the often sexual feelings associated with handling the slim white shaft itself, repeatedly sliding it between her lips, sucking it, feeling her lipstick sensuously sticking to its paper tip.

Mary had been my secretary for only a few weeks. I had picked her from two applicants, one of whom was middle-aged, obviously qualified and pleasant to be around. The other one, Mary, was thirty, bouncy, temperamental, and sexy. Against my better judgement I had chosen Mary. As a secretary she was adequate. In other ways, she was pushy and aggressive, insolent with the other secretaries, but loyal to me. In fact, she was insinuating herself into my private life. Things had already gone farther than I had expected.

"What's going to happen between you and Mary?" I asked Beth.

"I don't know, Dearest. There is another fitting for her gown. A couple of other little things she wants done. We've been talking a bit intimately. She's been telling me about her life. It's odd. She's sort of proud of herself and somewhat ashamed, both at the same time. I enjoy it because it makes me feel superior---"

"And you want to know all about her views of being fucked by her boss?" I interrupted.

---"That, too," she admitted. "Anyway I need to know what she knows about you and me, and whether what you have told me is everything I need to know not to embarrass myself or her. See?"

"Honey, I've told you I fucked her."

"Yes, but you didn't give me many details. Let's go over it again. Also, I think you ought to tell me the things you've told her about me. Have you told her about me misbehaving? Have you talked about your revenges? Did you leave anything out? Did you embellish? I want her to see me in the right light, a true light. I'm your wife, not some hussy, and I'm not just a Goddamned seamstress, you know."

"Of course, you're not. You're a terrific wife and mother"—pause—"and a terrific piece of ass!"

She smiled. "OK we'll talk about it later. I'll get dinner and you set the table."

"Oh, Jesus," I was thinking, because there were things I had forgotten and remembered later and there were others that I deliberately "forgot". The same was probably true with her, too. Was this going to be another "delicious pain episode"? Were we going to be hot and jealous all the time, like we used to be—-hating it and loving it simultaneously?

During dinner, we ate slowly and sipped on glasses of light wine. I took longer because I was doing so much of the talking. Of course, as I reiterated what I had done with Mary, I felt continuous sexual excitement. From when I first hired Mary (repeating some of what I had already told Beth), we seemed to brush against each other frequently in the office. We had frank talks about sex. She unburdened herself to me about her past—- a husband who was good-looking but treated her "like shit" (Please see "After I'm Married" (also under "Adultery"), which happened later but was written earlier). She also had troubles with their sex life which hardly ever resulted in orgasm for her, or even a feeling of being loved. There were vagaries, too, in her upbringing during which her uncle abused her and had sex with her mother while her dad was overseas. (I was skeptical of this tale but Beth seemed sympathetic, having had a few such "happenings" in her own life.)

Mary claimed she had all the men she wanted, but they were few in number because it was hard to find somebody to her taste. She told me she liked me because I was "older" and obviously "cared" about her, and wasn't always trying to "screw" her. (Beth laughed at this, reminding me of what I had told her long ago, that "there are no boys who are really gentlemen, just boys who have invented innumerable ways to get into girls' pants", and added, "Just like you, Dear". I laughed, too, because I had deliberately taken the role with Mary of a caring big brother.)

One day while we were talking instead of working, Mary suddenly said the magic words, "Why don't we try some of the things we have been talking about?"

"That's when I began driving her home (to her parents' house) after work," I told Beth. "It's just a short detour."

Beth laughed again, almost sneering, "I get it. If it hadn't been such a short distance, you wouldn't have done it? Hah!"

I laughed too, but continued. It was out in front of her house along a quiet street, in the evening after work, that we began experimenting with some of the things we had talked about, like doing things slowly and gently, stroking, even kneading, in some of the conventional places, like the back of the neck, arms, even thighs. The same with kisses. Gentle kisses at first, slow kisses, holding her cheeks in the palms of your hands. Not trying to wrestle but trying to caress.

Beth interrupted, "For God's sake, I taught all that to you!"

I nodded and continued. "We did that on several occasions, going farther each time. The kisses became deeper, the strokes more intimate. She would let me stroke her breasts on the outside, but not inside her bra. She would not let me bare them. I would also stroke her belly and drop down to her crotch but it was all through her clothes.

"Hey, those were my rules while I was working at the air base before we were married," Beth said, seeming somehow hurt.

"Yeah, but you went further. At least you told me you did."

"Whatever I told you was what I did." Feigning indignation.

I explained that Mary seemed to "get hotter than you used to". (Oh, sure, said Beth. She was hot on the outside. I was hot on the inside!) Mary's cheeks got more inflamed. She panted more. Her body radiated heat. By this time I was getting impatient, I explained to Beth. I had done this with numerous girls all through high school and most of the way through college. I was ready to do more. "Sure," Mary had said. "But where shall we go? We can't do it in front of my house or yours."

I told her we could go out of town, say, to Colton, and rent a room in a motel. "I can't spend the night," she balked, "my parents would kill me."

"We don't have to. I'll pay for it immediately and we can leave whenever we want to."

I told Mary I couldn't believe she hadn't done this before. After all, she was 30 years old, and had been drinking and smoking, marrying, having a baby, etc., all that time. She denied it, but also blushed. I let it go.

Beth was restive, "For God's sake, Dear, how long did all this take? Ten days after we met during the war, we were already married and doing it every way possible! Besides, the first time you told me about fucking Mary it took only a couple of minutes and we made love afterward. Now, the story's lasting through dinner!"

I fended her off, saying I was just filling in the details for her. I said I felt guilt and uncertainty, that Mary wasn't really that attractive to me, but a lot of the manipulations and parrying were. I kept thinking that this was so complex that the rewards would be terrific. Mary would let go. I would turn her into a sex maniac!

A day came when we could take a whole afternoon of comp time. I had told Beth about it; she was not happy, but resigned. I took Mary to a decent motel where I had pre-registered over the phone. The clerk acted bored. We drove around to the back, found the room and went in.

Inside, she was all business. Telling me she had thought a lot about it. In her big purse she had brought booze and snacks ("poo-poos" as she called them). She told me everything she wanted to do. First have a drink at the table. Next, shower (she wanted us to be "clean and neat"). Third, get naked and take another drink to bed. Turn on the radio to some music. (I don't much like her taste in music.) She could see her way that far, apparently, and after that she would play it by ear. I realized she was actually afraid of what it would be like.

The shower was too small for us to go in together. She got naked and walked in (I couldn't stop staring at her body— a huge vessel, made for sex, made to propagate the species, stunning, all of her was made extra large, extra generous. God, I could hardly wait). She came out, dried herself and lay back on the bed naked, her ample mons veneris touched with light, reddish hair. She seemed not to see my body at all, not even my hard-on pointing right at her from across the room.

By the time I finished a quick shower she had poured us both a drink, sipping hers while mine sat on the small bed-table. I ignored it, sat down beside her and began kissing her gently and stroking her warm smooth flesh, gliding slowly over arms and shoulders and across breasts and on to belly, on down her thighs, all the way to her feet. I would kiss her where I was stroking. She gradually began to respond. Her flesh, which had been cool, began warming under my hands and lips. When I moved back to her mouth, I deep kissed her, drove my tongue into her mouth, sucked on her lips, and tongue. Suddenly she was hot, murmuring, breathing onto my face. Her knees rose up. Her legs parted. Her cunt was generous and wide, with plump labia. I plied it with my fingers. She was already lubricated. She began to gasp, still murmuring, saying something, I knew not what. I just rose up, pushing her thighs apart, pivoted over her to get between her thighs, with my rigid cock poking at the entrance of her smoldering hole. Panting, I whispered, "I want you Mary, I want you. You are beautiful. I want you!" She just mumbled but her hips rose up off the bed toward my cock as I slid smoothly into her. She was tighter than I expected. Once in, I paused. "I want you to feel good. All I want is for you to feel good."

Now she answered, "Just do it, for God's sake. Just take me. Yes, do that. Please. Please. Right like that."

She got her knees further up and crossed her ankles over my back. I was impaled. I was lunging. I kept going as hard as I could. It seemed like hours, but the feeling was there. I was holding back my orgasm, but she seemed trapped in a continuous rocking motion, following my thrusts with her cunt driving up against me on every stroke. Just as I couldn't hold back any longer, with both of us gasping, and my sweat dripping off me onto her, I felt her surge underneath me, her scissors grip on me tightening strongly. Yes, she was coming! Full of joy, I cried out and came with her. We were writhing, kissing, saying love words and sex words, and holding each other tightly, sweat pouring off us. What had started out clumsy and awkward had finished marvelously.

"Oh, that was beautiful," I told Mary, "Thank you, thank you."

"I came, Will. You made me come!" she practically shouted, using my first name for once. "I haven't done that with a man since I was married. Not in years."

Suddenly, Mary burst into tears. Wiping her eyes with wet fingers, and pushing her hair back off her face, she was a pathetic but lovely sight. I kept hugging her until she was calm and quiet.

I turned to Beth, who seemed pensive. "Well, that was it for the first time," I said. "Was there anything new compared to what I told you before?"

"All those little additional details—- some of them hurt me, made me jealous. You were doing with her all the things we do; it hurts. But what you're telling me now is essentially what you told me before, and I hurt the same way I did then. I'm not about to admit my jealousy to Mary. The upshot of it was, she was difficult to get to bed but when you finally made it, it was good. Isn't that it?"

I nodded and grabbed her hand across the table.

She added, "But of course this time when you finished telling me, you didn't roll over on me and fuck me, mercilessly, like you did before."

"Well, there's a lot more to go over, as you know."

"Go ahead, we've got all night, but I really don't need quite so many details. How many more times did you go to that motel?"

"None, we went to a different motel each time."

"Remind me how many times that happened?"

"Two or three."

"No approximations. Tell me the number."

"I can't remember but it WAS more than three, about five."

"Oh God," Beth said in dismay.

"I told you each time," defending myself, "it didn't seem like anything much to me."

"I don't buy that. That's what I said in my confessions to you and you always told me that was bullshit, that fucking someone is the most intimate physical act in the world!"

"I know I did, Honey. Remember, I know how it feels, too. Shall I go on?" She nodded.

I began again. After that first coupling, Mary became clingy, attentive, trying to generate opportunities to be with me in situations where we might end up screwing. I had to admonish her to cool her ardor around the office. People were giving odd looks, I told her. We could get in trouble. She quieted down some. But we worked odd hours. After hours, she heated up. She would come into the office and say, "Everyone's gone. Let's make love."

"Let's get the work done first!" I would say, but she was hard to handle, the image of a secretary in a bawdy film. She took dictation sitting on the desk, her legs crossed (and uncrossed) exhibiting thigh all the way up to her ass-hole, giving seductive looks over the top of her notepad. Sometimes she would be wearing no panties, her light-red pubic hair visible, the long curve of those pure-white thighs gleaming. Times like that I'd have to stop dictating, walk around the desk and embrace her. The first couple of times I did it from the side, leaning across to give her a hug, pressing my cheek to hers, pressing my cock against the side of her hip. I was afraid to do more because anyone passing could enter the suite from the hall.

One day, she surprised me by pulling a key out of her purse and showing it to me during the day. "This is the answer to all your prayers. I got the key from maintenance. Only the chief custodian has access. People at your level are entitled to privacy," she told me, grinning.

"You never told me that," Beth wailed.

"I know I should have, Honey. I'm sorry."

"Sorry, isn't good enough, you fiend. What all happened? Now I suppose it was ‘Katy bar the door.' Tell me."

I tried to summarize. We still had to get our work done, and I still wanted to be a good husband and get home at a decent hour. But things did change. Now, when she took dictation, and let her skirt rise until all of her was revealed, I no longer stopped myself. I'd go around the desk, she would open her thighs, I would unzip myself, pull out my cock and slip it in. She was so eager. She was so wet. She would ram her tongue into my mouth, grab my butt and squeeze me against her, deeper inside her, trying to engulf my whole body. It would be over in no time. She got her orgasm right way. So did I.

I could see Beth was hurt by this— yet excited, too. I had not told her every time this happened. Sometimes, when I came home, she said I smelled different. She would try to pin down the odor, but couldn't. I claimed ignorance. Now, she asked, "God Almighty, how many times did you do this?"

"Honey, I don't know. I see how you feel. I'm sorry."

"Again, Sweetheart," sarcastically, "'Sorry' is NOT good enough."

"Well, it really won't be good enough when I tell you the rest," I said. My memory had just opened up on a lot that I had fully intended to tell her but hadn't. Again, I tried to summarize. One night Mary had a new idea, "Let's go in the boss' office and do it on his leather couch!"

The couch was quite long, but not very wide. It had ornate arms which were far from comfortable looking. She suggested we get naked. I demurred on the grounds that if the security guards came to the door we couldn't possibly rearrange ourselves in time. We did it in the missionary position. Still, it was very exciting. It especially excited Mary, who, because she had pulled her dress up above her hips, seemed to be sensitized by the feel of the slippery maroon leather under her butt. She informed me that she couldn't understand herself because, after years of feeling nothing in bed, she felt too much. She felt a longing to do it again immediately, and then again.

Beth contributed, "That's the way I was when I masturbated, but I lost that feeling after I learned how to make love, and come ten times in ten minutes."

"I know, Honey. She's not a grown-up." I took Beth's hand across the table. We were still sitting there with the dinner dishes around us. Instead of continuing with my revelations, we had mad, passionate sex into the night.

CHAPTER II

Beth and I didn't have another confessional by me until the eve of another visit by Mary— this time to fit the waist of her formal gown. "Instead of showing off her beautiful ample butt, she wants to hide it," said Beth. "I'm going to try to convince her otherwise. That might require undressing her, having her look at herself in the mirror a couple of times, experimenting with the way the material flows over her figure, etc."

Right, I admitted, and asked if she was going to see her tits again. The answer was she still had a little touching-up to do there, too.

Soon, Beth switched me back to reminding her of "what else" Mary and I had done.

I explained that things became every more risqué. I admitted to Beth I hadn't told her everything because there was so much repetition. One thing was that we had screwed at the desk and on the divan a few more times. Once, on the divan, I had banged my head on an arm and started to bleed. Mary wouldn't let me stop fucking her. She used the hanky she had handy for wiping us off to dab at the blood while we continued to fuck. The contortions, messiness, and some pain for me seemed to whip up her passions.

Two different times at a hotel, Mary insisted that I give her anal sex. This I had not even hinted at to Beth. She looked at me in disbelieve. I even felt disbelief about it myself. The ring of muscles in Mary's rectum was really tight. The second time we did it, my penis bled a bit. Mary liked it. The blood seemed particularly exciting to her.

During most of this time, I had been picking her up at her house and taking her back after work. I excused it to myself on the grounds of our long unpredictable hours, but the real reason was lust— which I now readily admitted to Beth.

I told her on many of the trips to work, Mary would reach over, undo my fly, and keeping her head down, would get me erect and suck on me. I was too tense to ever come. Too tense even to enjoy the stimulation itself. She seemed exultant so I put up with it. A big derisive yelp from Beth.

The last thing I had to tell Beth was that on a few occasions, after we had had a few drinks, had sex, lain around for a while in afterglow, Mary had caressed my cock until it came back to life, gotten on her hands and knees and sucked me to another orgasm. Swallowing the semen— in fact doing it all with gusto! I knew Beth would hate that and she did. She accused me of trying to destroy our marriage. Because she wasn't adept at oral sex and I saw it generally as debasing to women, we hadn't done it much that way (although I frequently went down on her) And now I had betrayed her by letting a mere "lover" do to me what she had not done. I saw her point and apologized profusely.

When the time came for Mary's next fitting, Beth reminded me that Mary was coming that afternoon. Having to go to a meeting in El Segundo, I told Beth I didn't know when I would get home. As it turned out, I made it by mid-afternoon. I relished the thought that Mary might still be there.

When I entered the house I headed immediately for Beth's sewing room in the basement. Nobody there. I shouted. A muffled voice came from the upstairs bedroom, "Up here, Honey," followed by low laughter. I hurried up. The door was slightly ajar. I could smell cigarette smoke and perfume (not Beth's). I pushed open the door. There they were lying side by side on our huge bed, bedcovers on the floor, heads close together on one pillow, buck naked, smoking cigarettes, mixed drinks on the bed-tables!

JesusGod! I felt as if I had been slugged in the solar plexus, but while my heart sank, my cock rose. Beth, speaking carefully to seem sober, said, "Want some gin on the rocks? You have to undress first!"

"What the hell is going on here?" I asked.

"Everything," Beth replied, as they both laughed.

I stared at their bodies— entranced by them. They were both voluptuous, but different. Beth's cunt was shaved, her skin golden, patches of pure white where her bikini had covered her during the summer, her hips and breasts generous but trim, with modest nipples already hard, her face still youthful but mature. Mary's cunt exhibited the reddish hair, lighter than her head-hair (unusual), big breasts, very firm, "tip-tilted" as they say, big nipples, a pleasant curve to her belly, and spectacular thighs, beautifully tapered, a coquettish face with cupid's-bow lips—-made for kissing (and pouting) Both works of art. Both so appealing, as to make me feel inadequate. That was my brain. My body, especially my cock, said otherwise.

I shucked off my coat, tie, and the rest of my clothes in seconds, went to the foot of the bed, and crawled up between them, turning face-up with my arms under their heads and my hands holding their breasts while they made a bee-line for my cock, indiscriminately caressing glans, shaft and scrotum, already bringing me to the verge of orgasm. I was giving them kisses on every part of their faces I could reach. They kissed me back, oohing and aahing. Their breaths smelled of cunt and expensive gin (Beefeaters?). Their lips looked pulpy, lipstick smeared—-realizing they had been kissing each other sent an added shot of excitement through me. My hard-on twitched. I repeated to them how beautiful they were. They echoed back how strong and hard I was. (Just feel that! They told each other.)

"Who gets firsts?" Mary asked Beth.

"If you keep rubbing my cock, nobody get firsts, and seconds will be a while." I told them, still kissing, while sensing my cock ready to blow. I knew that if Beth took firsts, I would be able to get hard again sooner because Mary was "newer" (shame on me). But I said nothing more.

"Beth, you should get firsts," Mary said. "Besides, I want to watch and do things to you while you're fucking!"

"Yes!" said Beth, rolled herself over on my body, sliding herself upward on hands and knees until her vagina was right over my mouth. "Want to taste what a girl who's just been with another girl tastes like?" and she let her mound down on my mouth. Of course, it was ripe with her juices and I gobbled her up, pressing on her clitoris with my tongue, the tiny prickles of her shaved skin adding to my heat. In a few seconds she came. Promptly she moved downward to drop herself on my cock which, needing no guidance, sank deep into her tight, hot, saturated, welcoming hole. She rode me, eyes closed, groaning. Mary moved into that space between Beth's breasts and my chest, kissing me rapidly and very wetly right on the mouth and in rhythm with us. Beth was coming repeatedly, oblivious to Mary. I was thrusting upward as hard and as fast as possible, caught up in a fog of lust. Soon I came. Indescribable, soul-shaking—-one of the best I've ever had. Beth collapsed on my chest, all three of our faces together, everybody panting, groaning and kissing each other. I kept pumping until I softened too much to penetrate, hoping to extract one more orgasm for Beth. It didn't work. Beth said, "I didn't finish; let me get my hand in there."

As I started to oblige, Mary said, "I'll do it!" Pushing Beth backward, my flaccid penis flipping out, she dropped her head down to Beth's pussy, and began to slurp. I was numb, but Beth immediately responded and soon came against Mary's mouth, her hand pressing in Mary's hair.

We all lay there, almost unconscious, for several minutes. All three of us seemed satiated. I know I was. I may have nodded off, for suddenly I heard their voices, talking low, giggling intermittently. They were talking about me. Beth was asking, "----you really think you can get him hard again?" Mary answered, "That was a huge explosion, wasn't it? Maybe not." Beth: "I apologize for monopolizing him, after all, he has me all the time. You're fresh and new to him." Mary: "I already had you all day, so it doesn't matter that much. But I want him, too."

Beth prodded me with a toe against my thigh to attract my attention and told Mary, "You're welcome, I'm sure."

I roused myself and asked what was going on. Mary responded that she and Beth were just wondering what kind of a man your really are, looking down with derision on my limp and gooey penis. Mary sat back on her heels, gazing at my cock, reaching out with one hand, sort of cupping her hand over the soft cock, balls, and the pubic mound itself. Gently, slowly, moving her hand in a circular motion, smoothing the matted hair, pressing gently as she circled. I told them both how good it felt as Beth kissed me lightly with soft lips and breathed on my cheeks and neck. Soon I could feel my cock coming back to life. Mary noticed and lovingly said, "Oh, what have we here, a slight swelling?" And in another minute, her strokes getting stronger, "Oh, look at that Beth, it's turned into a lazy looey!" With that she shifted her grip to the rising shaft itself and quickened her pace. I was awed at the skill of her fingers. As soon as I was close to a full erection she bent down and took it fully in her mouth, shifting her hand to the root of my cock and my scrotum. She drove the glans deep into her throat, somehow forcing the muscles to relax so that she could take it in all the way. God, it was so tight in there. I started moaning into Beth's mouth as her tongue was now deep in it. "Stop, or I'll come," I moaned. "Stop, stop." But Mary paid no attention and went powerfully on. We were all crying out. As I saw Mary wasn't going stop, I let myself surge to orgasm, soon spurting repeatedly into her mouth, thrusting upward hard. Without pausing she began to swallow. I watched her face, flushed, cheeks hollow, eyes blinking, throat pulsing, as she took my semen in, not a drop appearing, even in the corners of her mouth. When it was over she immediately flopped back up on the pillow with us, reeking of my semen, mixing it with our spittle and their pussy-smelling mouths. We lay there for a long time, breathing deeply, sighing. Finally, Beth reached across me, stroked Mary's shoulder, and asked, "Where did you learn how to do that?"

"You mean making your husband come in my mouth?"

"Yes."

"I had an Italian boyfriend who was interested in nothing but that. It was before I was married. I saw him as a potential husband so I acquiesced. He'd rehearse the whole thing as he taught me-- for months. He would ask me what I wanted to do and I was supposed to answer sexily, ‘I want you to come in my mouth.'

"I could hardly stand it at first, but after a while I began to like it. Like it so much that I would almost come myself, which was nice because I could never come when we were fucking. He liked it best when he would stand and I would kneel down, doing obeisance, sort of. He wanted me to look up at him while I was doing it. I hated that. It made me feel like a slave."

Beth was fascinated, "Does Will make you do that, too?"

"Look at him, you mean? No. In fact, he won't let me!"

"See?" I said to Beth. She nodded, satisfied.

"But," Mary grinned, "He's spent a lot of time making me learn how to come. I can't do it like you can, but I'm improving."

"You just have to let yourself go, is all," Beth said stroking down along Mary's shoulder until she touched her breast, and squeezed gently.

The conversation continued until early evening when Beth suggested we go down to the kitchen, replenish our drinks and have a snack. In the breakfast nook we talked for hours, mostly about sex, until I announced that the final game of the NBA basketball championships was on TV and I was going to watch it in the basement.

"That's fine," Beth said brightly, "Mary's staying the night in the guest room so we're going to make up the bed, and"— glancing at Mary, "—and I don't know."

We all laughed.

I put on sweats and went to the basement, switched on the TV and began watching the game. About an hour later, the fourth quarter starting and the game close, Mary appeared.

"Your wife's asleep. Dead to the world. So I thought I'd watch the game with you." She said and plopped down on the divan beside me.

Soon she put her hand on my thigh and ran it up to my groin, caressing. "I know you have nothing on in there and it's already getting hard, isn't it?"

"I'm really trying to watch the game,"

"That's OK, keep on trying," she said, stroking me hard through the fabric. I fought it, but I couldn't stop getting excited, fully hard, and eventually uncaring about the game. Still holding my cock, she turned toward me and began kissing me, too, entirely eclipsing the TV picture. I had to raise my hips to pull off my sweats. When I did she got on her knees in front of me and shoved her mouth down over my cock, taking it all in. I stopped her, saying, "Look, I'm not going to be able to come again if you get me off now. I want to fuck you. Give you some pleasure, too. I want to grind you down and wring you out, and eat you up later. So lie down on the rug."

I pushed her down and she let her robe fly open revealing her perfect breasts. Lovely heavy thighs, spreading to welcome me. Saturated cunt waiting to engulf my cock. We were covered with the residue of fucking all afternoon. We were exhausted, yet consumed by our feelings. We kept our hands over each other's mouth to keep from waking Beth, as we squirmed and writhed. I could hear myself saying, "Oh God, Oh God, Oh God."

When it was over we just lay there unmoving for long minutes, steeped in juices, almost sleeping. Eventually, Mary roused herself to go up to her bed. I kissed, and hugged her good-bye. As she was leaving, she asked, "Who won the game?"

I laughed and said, "Hell, I don't know. Don't care, either, Lover."