wife with other men

[mikemann]

Mikemann.....eventually we will get to where we are togther while another man fucks me, just have to find a good babysitter My husband has also fucked other women and I havent gotten to watch and to be honest I can not wait for that day. I love the way my husband fucks and I am dying to watch him fuck another woman

Yes love, I well remember the baby sitter problem myself from when the kids were too young to be let out or left alone... It meant a lot of private sessions for both of us... I was all for including the baby sitter, but Julie wouldn't hear of it

 

[mikemann]

Lovig this thread, wish I had found it sooner.

Living in Central Florida I meet many tourists from around the world. I met an English couple years ago and ended up fucking the wife while her husband watched. For the rest of their vacation I was at their place everynight and we took turns fucking her for hours on end. What an amazing experience!

Anyone planning a vacation? LOL

We asked you not to tell anyone about that

Seriously though, that doesn't surprise me at all, we English seem to have a hell of a kink for wife sharing, especially out of sight of the neighbours as it were, must be a cultural thing I once shared Julie with a bunch of virtually total strangers at a beach party on holiday, we'd only met most of them briefly in the hotel, and some not at all before the party began... Julie vanished behind the sand dunes with a beach mat under her arm, and stayed there for over an hour and a half while every guy who could get away from his wife for 10 minutes to enjoy a quick 5 minute bonk and get back unseen, or could get her permission, visited Julie behind the dunes one or two at a time and fucked her... She had almost every one of the guys, I think only one missed out, there were 16 guys at the party, so she had 15 of them... Needless to say she was very bruised and sore next day, but very happy... Holiday romances are fun

 

[mikemann]

You describe perfectly what I enjoyed most with my wife, and now that she's gone, the couple of times I've managed, with other women--for her to be on all fours above me or lying directly on me, my face between her thighs, as I look up at her cunt, a young cock ramming her, his balls an inch or so from my nose, sometimes grazing my forehead to settle a moment to block my vision. I like seeing the sweat on the little hairs on his balls, how his swinging, wrinkled scrotum jars still and stretches smooth at the moment he buries himself in her, balls pressed tight against the full lips of her vagina, his hips flattening her bottom, and see the pressure of his cock push wide the lips of her cunt, and see a ring of her juices around his cock. so they dribble down to me with their combined sweat. I love to feel her weight jerk forward as he slams into her, her hips hard on my shoulders, and how her belly and breasts shift on me as he pushes, trying to get as far up in her as he can. Sometimes all I can see are his balls, bulging against her cunt, a bit of the tops of his thighs and the strain in his ass as he pushes, all his weight on her, pressing her onto me. I like to feel how she answers him, turning her butt up to meet him, feeling her whole body pushing back to him, her hands somewhere above pushing against the headboard of the bed or gripping the sheets. I love to hold her hips either side of my face, pulling her even harder on me, so I feel the distinctly different sudden weight of him on her, the special pressure of him each time he goes into her until he reaches bottom, his cock occupying the entire length of her cunt, the head perhaps nosing into her womb. I feel that moment and hug her to me--especially when he comes, his toes planted, I imagine, curled and pushing into the sheets, his body like iron on her, her body slack and open, her bottom willing and high for him, clearly more conscious than I that the moment of truth has arrived, the long, even thrusts shortening and increasingly urgent, until he pauses, frozen far beyond the moment of no return, the three of us waiting, then plunges decisively one last time, piercing her so that sometimes I feel the air go out of her, all his energy pumping from the length of his spine, through the iron heat behind and in his balls, to explode over and over in her, his legs stiff, sweat dripping freely from his groin onto her thigh and cunt and over my face. I like watching the pulses convulsively constrict the ridge between his balls and asshole, each time propelling his semen into my wife. At times, I've reached up afterward to hold his hips longer on her. Yes, when he does come out, swollen and dripping with my wife's juices, I love to feel the weight of his balls drawn back over my face, then the sticky shaft of his cock, and finally see how puffy the head of his cock is . . . yes, lick it, suck the fat head into my mouth before he withdraws, and then to peer up to the swampy, gleaming mess of shiny flesh above me, waiting to spy his semen as it appears from inside her, dribbles the length of her cunt, and onto my tongue, where I can savor that special flavor of male and female essence when it's freshest. I love making love with her afterwards, and long after, talking about it, asking questions while I'm in her--MilkFountain

As usual your words have caused my tool to rise Milkfountain my friend You are so descriptive I almost see and hear the sights and sounds of your lovely Norma enjoying the pleasures you enjoy telling of... Damn I can almost smell the sweet aroma of her sexual arousal and hear the wet sounds of the cock fucking her soaking aroused cunt.

 

[mrnles]

mikemannn,

OK, book your flight to Orlando. I'm ready!!!

Les

 

[wyseguys]

Mikemann's experience

What an incredible erotic description of your occasion. I have to agree, your description was just short of watching the video. Incredible! I'd love to be in your shoes just once. I had a hard on just reading about it. I'm sorry about your loss, it must have been real hard to take. women like that are NOT to be found just anywhere. She must have been very special.

 

[bimori]

wow I think I'm all wet from your post . I sure wish they were my balls slapping her ass .

 

[wantsitbad3]

Great

What a Fucking thread!

 

[mac340]

Great thread, my wife and I are contemplating swinging we will see what cums of it i guess

 

[mikemann]

Great thread, my wife and I are contemplating swinging we will see what cums of it i guess

I gurantee it will cum harder than ever before if you do friend

 

[mac340]

I gurantee it will cum harder than ever before if you do friend

Maybe I will find that out for myself one day

 

[mikemann]

Maybe I will find that out for myself one day

Yep, and I hope you do mate, it is good hot fun if you like that sort of thing

 

[woodchuck4u]

Wife with other men

My wife and I have enjoyed everyone’s comments. As I’ve mentioned earlier I enjoy the idea of watching my wife with another man. I've mentioned having my buddy enjoy fondling her 34DD breasts and kissing her, but it hasn’t progressed any further.

My wife and I have partied with friend of mine with her topless she tells me that it exciting to do hasn’t had the courage to go further. What worries her is how she and or I might feel like after words.

Well I can’t speak for her but I know how I’m going to feel like and its much closer to her. Just her having the faith that nothing will change the way with feel toward each other not even this. Also understanding its because I love her that I’d like her to experience much more than just what I have to offer. I know this is sounding kind of corny, but that how I feel.

I know my wife would love to hear from couples that have or are still enjoying threesomes with the husband watching their wives with other men. If there are any wives out there that can give my wife some encouragement, we appreciate it.

Thanks Woodchuck4u

 

[mikemann]

My wife and I have enjoyed everyone’s comments. As I’ve mentioned earlier I enjoy the idea of watching my wife with another man. I've mentioned having my buddy enjoy fondling her 34DD breasts and kissing her, but it hasn’t progressed any further.

My wife and I have partied with friend of mine with her topless she tells me that it exciting to do hasn’t had the courage to go further. What worries her is how she and or I might feel like after words.

Well I can’t speak for her but I know how I’m going to feel like and its much closer to her. Just her having the faith that nothing will change the way with feel toward each other not even this. Also understanding its because I love her that I’d like her to experience much more than just what I have to offer. I know this is sounding kind of corny, but that how I feel.

I know my wife would love to hear from couples that have or are still enjoying threesomes with the husband watching their wives with other men. If there are any wives out there that can give my wife some encouragement, we appreciate it.

Thanks Woodchuck4u

I'll see if my lady will talk to her my friend, it really sounds as though it's so close for you now, just got to jump the final hurdle and go further than just fondling into the real thing... I'm pretty sure your wife will love it as much as you do when it happens.

 

[woodchuck4u]

Wife with other men

Mikemann,

Yes I would agree with you It seems that we are very close to having this happen, I guess I’m a little anxious. It must be showing. Any way I thought hearing from someone who gone through it might help. You know a little encouragement…

Thanks for listening. Great thread everyone.
Woodchuck4u

 

[MilkFountain]

About Norma & the painters (The Eskimos Have It Right)

One day, I let the two housepainters see Norma. Right after we moved in, my wife refurbished everything in our apartment—except my library, since I haven't let anybody in there. The wallpaper was still loose in one corner and the ceiling needed painting (apparently our predecessor was a smoker.) It’s about ten in the morning now and they have already moved my desk, chair, and computer to another room and begun stripping the wallpaper.

One of the painters is about 24 and lanky, with a simple gold earring in his right ear. He's whipcord strong, walks with a cocky roll, and has long hair in the Argentine fashion. The other is in his forties, shaved bald and hard-looking, with the kind of muscles a man gets from a lifetime of hard work. Sunday is our at-home day, the only time we have to ourselves, so we try not to have visitors in. It’s customarily the day Norma gets things done or has them done around the house.

I had shown the painters the small bathroom they could use just off the utility room at the end of the hall. The only way there is from my study, passed the doors to three bedrooms, the last of which is the master bedroom, where Norma was asleep.

The door was as I'd carefuly left it, half ajar. Although the room is big—the door to the ensuite bathroom on the far side of the bed, and not far from the bed, in the main room, a Jacuzzi. The view I saw when looking back into the bedroom from the hallway through the two-inch gap I'd left open, was the bed. It faces the door, it's custom-made mattress over two king-size innersprings dominated the scene. This morning the big room was flooded with summer sun from the three-meter square skylight directly above the bed. On it were several fat pillows, pale gold colored sheets and a yellow thermal blanket. Tangled in the middle, the sheets pulled to her breasts, lay Norma. As always in the summer, she slept nude.

The painters have worked hard. They've used the sink in the laundry room more than they probably needed to.

I woke as usual about seven this morning, half an hour before the painters were due. I lay there a few moments contemplating Norma, sniffing the vanilla oil she likes to put on before bed and now emanating from her warm skin. I watched her breathe. Still sick and exhausted after a night of tossing and turning, she's finally deep asleep. The heat has been turned up all night to keep her warm. The room was too hot and she was lying on her back, one hand and arm holding the sheet to her breasts, the other down along her side, outside the sheet, the hand in her crotch. The covers were bunched around her hips. Her face was half hidden and shoulders framed by black hair in waves and tangles on the gold pillows and sheets. The shiny sweat on her arms, shoulders and face tell me her fever has broken.

I gently tugged the sheet out of her grasp and from beneath the arm cradling her breasts. Her hand and mouth are relaxed and slightly open. Although her skin is a pale, burnt peach color—what she calls canela, cinnamon—the inside of her palm (and the bottoms of her feet) are warm pink. Her tongue, little white buds dotting the surface, lay with its sides pressing pink and fat against her white teeth. I watched her breasts rise, the swell filling the cradle her arm formed, heard and saw her breath catch, and watched as it left her, her breasts and shoulders subsiding. I found I could count to two or three before she would breathe again. When she’s relaxed, Norma’s nipples are the same color as her tongue, pink running to lilac.

I licked her near nipple, watching Norma’s face, and saw her eyes flutter. Beneath my nose her nipple hardened, losing some of its wrinkle, and darkened to plum. The shadowed rose of her areola stretched to become smooth. On the rise of her early morning, milk-heavy breasts the little drama pulled at my groin. Thinking of the coming painter, it fired my imagination. I slipped from the bed, turned up the thermostat, and showered. By the time I had pulled on a jogging suit, the painters had arrived.

I left the door to our bedroom ajar, perhaps a full hand’s-breadth. As I led the way for the painters along the darkened hallway to my study, I explained in little more than a whisper that my wife was deeply asleep, having taken a sedative with her cold medicine, and asked them to maintain the door to my study closed while they worked and to avoid unnecessarily loud noises when they went to and from the bathroom or utility room. I helped them settle their paraphernalia, and then took them back along the hall (sure now that behind me they could not help but glance into the skylight-lit bedroom). I showed them the bathroom they could use—just beyond our bedroom—and then the way to the utility room.

As I settled in the guest bedroom (a floor above where the men were working), where I’d set up my computer and telephones temporarily, I switched on the portable closed circuit video monitor (which Norma or I can move anywhere in the apartment to keep track of Fatima, whether the maid is with her or not). I now tuned four views onto the screen: my study, as seen through the camera in the ceiling candelabra; the visiting-children’s bathroom I had assigned to the painters (installed to make sure guests’ children weren’t drowning or too sick to help themselves); the nursery bassinette and door to our bedroom, from the camera in the headboard of our bed, over Norma’s head; and Norma on the bed, as seen from the far corner of the bedroom, the little camera unobtrusively part of the doorframe. All cameras in the house have audio.

The painters have been here more than two hours now. My Spanish is pretty good, so I’ll try to translate what they’ve said so far, beginning with the first exchange as I arrived in the guest bedroom and turned on the sound to the video for my study (haha, loose translation!)

“. . . I was afraid he’d see me looking in and close the door.”
“I’ll check, said the younger painter.”
I saw him carefully open the study door and look down the hall.
“Fuck me, it’s still open. Hahaha, suddenly I’ve got to piss.”
They both laughed. Each shushed the other, and the older painter said to wait, that it would be better to get everything set up first.
“Did you see her breasts?”
“And her face. Did you see that hair?”
“The old guy isn’t thinking.”
“Yeah, if I had a daughter like that. . . .”
(I can’t blame them for thinking I’m her father.)
They spread tarps on the floor, taped the doorway, and got some brushes, spackle, spatulas, and rags from the box they’d brought with them.

“Me first,” said the older guy, authority in his voice. “Wait until I come back.” I saw him silently open my study door, go out, and the door close behind him. I switched my attention to the view of Norma on the bed and, above it, the view if the bedroom door from the headboard of our bed. Norma had turned on her side. With the heat turned up all this time and the morning sun streaming in through the skylight, the room must be hot now.

She had shrugged down the sheet and with it the blanket, so that now she was more or less bare to her waist. Her arm was over her breasts, her hand up under her cheek, so that I could see the under side of both breasts bulging beneath her arm. One leg was bent up toward the arm pillowing her face, and the other was straight down, pointing to the foot of the bed, softly molded by the sheet. Her shoulders and back were bare. Below the first swell of her rump, the sheet, stretched by her up-thrust leg, tightly encased her ass. In a moment the painter’s face appeared in the doorway.

I switched off the other two video views, keeping only those in the bedroom on the screen, and zoomed in on the painter.

Mouth half open in an unshaved, gaping face, he took a long look. His hand was on the front of his pants, alternating between rhythmically squeezing himself and roughly rubbing the material with his open palm. I glanced at the view of Norma. I looked back at the man. As if he heard a noise, he suddenly withdrew. I switched back on the other two views. I thought he would now go to the bathroom, but he returned to my study.

“Holymarymotherofgod, you’ve got to see this. Go on, kid.” The older painter was shaking his head. He walked over to the younger one, who was folding sandpaper around a block of wood. “And be quiet! Any sound, you come right back here, or go directly to the bathroom. ”

The hard-muscled kid didn’t need a second invitation.

Now the boy’s face pressed into the opening of the door to our bedroom. After a moment, he looked down the hall in the direction he’d last seen me, then back into the bedroom. Norma was in the same position—obviously to me deep in sleep. Her bottom looked heart-breakingly round beneath the sheet, which the swell of her cheeks stretched flat across the divide. The dancer’s leg that pointed long toward the door was smoothly sculpted by the thin gold sheet. I looked back at the young man.

His hand too was busy. But, unlike his older workmate, his hand was down the front of his painter’s pants and pumping outward, so that the head of his cock pushed round against the front of his pants. Clearly agitated, he soon disappeared from view. I had an idea.

I clumped down the stairs, deliberately making as much noise as I might. As I approached the room where the men were working, I could hear their voices. As soon as I entered, they stopped their conversation. I could easily guess what it was about.

I offered them some American hot chocolate, which I knew they would welcome, both as a novelty and as a luxury item, and as a change (as I imagined) in their usual regimen of coffee. In the kitchen I crushed half a 100 mg. tablet of Viagra into each of their mugs—plenty at their virile ages.

Returning to my makeshift study, I stopped a moment at the Door to our bedroom. With my face and hand I could feel the air in there was indeed tropical. Norma had kicked down the sheet. Her bottom was bare. The sheet covered her straight leg only up to mid-calf. Her cunt was a shadowy, blood-red flower in the basin formed by her bottom and legs.

I had set up a recorder so that I wouldn’t miss all that would be said by the painters while they worked. Now, as I returned to my makeshift study, I came in on a continuing conversation:

“I don’t know. It’s not worth it.”
“Come on. He’s probably asleep or working. He’s upstairs. I can hear if he’s coming.” The young man was rummaging in a small backpack he’d brought with him.
“Too risky.”
“I’ll be right back.”
“Hey, no, we’ve got to get some work done.”
“I promise I’ll work like a demon afterward.”

He went out, and in a moment I saw him peeking through my bedroom door again. For a moment he was transfixed by the vision Norma presented to him—breasts swollen beneath her arm, black hair and long back, the swell of her bottom, now fully open. He raised a small camera to his eye, the kind I imagine spies use. I zoomed in on him, hoping the tiny lens motor in the bedpost camera couldn’t be heard across the room. In a few moments he dropped the camera to his chest. With his free hand, he opened his pants, pushed his hand inside, and pulled his prick free.

He let his cock go for a moment to adjust something on his little camera. His cock waved in the air, already hard. It was dark, exactly what I imagined a swarthy-skinned workman might have. It was circumcised, the swollen head completely uncovered and round. It bobbed in the air with his heartbeat. Suddenly, I couldn't believe my eyes. I saw a large drop of liquid appear in the slit opening of his cock.

He appeared to take several photos of Norma, then dropped the camera a little, aiming lower, took a photo, then lowered it more, taking another, and finally pointed it straight down, snapping a couple of his erect cock. I understood. He would join them with a computer program to make a panoramic shot—of his prick pointing up to my wife—proof maybe for doubters, certainly a source of future masturbation.

I was glad her face wouldn't appear in the photos.

He left, I switched back to the four views, and I watched him in the bathroom. He dropped his pants to his ankles (along with, I was right, his boxer shorts), and sat on the closed toilet seat, knees spread. I have no idea of the real size of his cock, but from what I could see in the zoomed video view I’m sure he certainly would have inspired either trepidation or lust in any woman—fear that he’d reach to far into her cunt, maybe hurt her.

With his left hand he held the little camera a few inches from his eyes and with his right tightly held his cock. He was looking into the little screen. His hand was busy, but moved slowly, every so often squeezing very hard and holding it there.

I’m sure he was trying not to come. When he'd calmed down, he would release it and stroke carefully, then clutch it again, squeezing as hard as he could, staring fixedly at the head, swelling dark above his hand. And then he'd look back to the little screen on the camera, switching views with his thumb.

PART II

I was fascinated watching him, knowing the screaming need he felt, and wondering if the Viagra was kicking in, and if it made any difference (how can the lust of a healthy young man possibly increase?). I remembered when I was 20 years old and younger, how I’d wished I was a girl’s bra, just to be so close to her breasts—how privileged I would feel to totally encompass the weight and rubbery firmness of a girl’s generous body.

I remember what it was like to be hard almost all the time, to become erect at the slightest provocation—set off by the mere sight of a cartoon drawing of a busty girl; of peeking in the side of a woman’s blouse and seeing how white and smooth her skin was going into the bra; looking longingly at the tight behinds of girls sitting in front of me in hot classrooms in sixth and seventh grade classes; sitting in buses that vibrated and bounced while I daydreamed erotic scenarios to accompany my erect cock, hard up on my belly or sideways in my pants, my hand over it, squeezing; long, long-ago memories of looking at my mother’s breasts, sometimes naked, with their big red nipples, but especially how their pink showed through too-small white cotton bras (she was a beauty, a painter’s model, full-breasted)

Now, watching this young man stroke his raging hard-on, occasionally lifting his balls—so when he held them up against his cock, the wrinkled skin of his sack stretched. His balls showed smooth under the eye of my video cam's zoom lens—I wanted to reach out with the hand of God to find a perfect moment for his release.

I quickly wrote a note on a legal-size sheet of paper, stuck some scotch tape to it, and glanced at the video monitor to make sure the boy was still in the bathroom, still occupied. I took off my shoes and silently hurried downstairs. I stuck the note at eye level to the outside corner of the door to our bedroom, facing down the hall toward where the boy now was in the bathroom--facing him as he would come from the bathroom. As I stood only two meters from where the young man now sat, I panicked and, as light-footedly as possible, ran back down the hall.

. . . None too soon. Behind me I heard the toilet flush (at least the boy had his wits about him--at least making it sound as if his trip to the bathroom was legitimate). Above his line of sight, I climbed the stairs two at a time, glad I was fit, and in a moment was back in the guest bedroom looking at the monitor.

Through the bedpost-mounted camera I looked to see the back of the page of paper I had left on the door of the master bedroom. But it was gone, no longer taped to the door. Through the narrow door opening and in the dim light of the hallway, I could faintly make out the boy’s fingers clutching the edge of a piece of paper.

With my heart pounding, I realized he was just now reading my note, which said, in Spanish:

Go in. It’s all right. She’s soundly asleep. She took a strong sleeping pill a few hours ago. Leave your semen on her. –your employer

Suddenly, the paper disappeared from my sight. I waited. I'm sure he was thinking furiously, weighing risk against need. I could understand his being afraid. I would have been.

Maybe he wouldn’t go in. I couldn’t see into the hallway far enough to see if he were still there in the dark. Disappointed, I looked at the view in my study. He wasn’t there. I looked again at the bathroom. Nothing. After hals a minute I became desperately curious.

From the bedpost camera I risked using the motorized zoom, extending it fully. Faintly, in on the door opening to the hallway I could see. i could make out only his chin, nose and forehead. What was he thinking? Would he go away, lose the chance because he was afraid? Now I was anxious. Cold sweat trickled in my armpits. I badly wanted something to happen. What if the boy jumped on her? What would I do? If he did nothing, would the older painter take the invitation if the boy showed him the note?

Then the opening between the door and the doorframe widened.

The boy stepped into the room. His arms hung loosely at his sides. His pants fly was still open, his cock out, rigidly pointing at Norma. I was so shocked and terrified of what might happen, that I could have shouted. I wished I were in the room.

I felt my balls stir, an electric current fatten in my cock.

He walked slowly across the deep carpet, pausing to shuck off one shoe, and then the other as he walked. He needn’t have taken the precaution.

The nap on that carpet is more than two inches deep, wonderfully sound absorbent. He stood by the side of the bed, but didn't touch it. His face was flushed. His mouth was open in that way a man has when he feels choked, but knows a deep breath will make a rasping sound in his constricted throat.

With both hands he unbuckled his belt and then undid the top button of his pants, and let them drop from his hips. He stepped out of them. His cock now sprang free and up, nearly touching his belly. His balls, shiny extra-large eggs in their wrinkled sack, were up tight to his body.

I switched off the video views of the bathroom and my study. Now the view through the eye of the camera that was in the headboard filled the sreen before me in my study.

He looked to be no more than three meters from me, and I could silently swivel the camera, so that in turn only his face or his cock filled my monitor’s screen. Then I added the view from the camera high in the frame of the door on the far side of the room, mounted about 5 meters from where Norma lay. through it I could see all the bed and the boy—down to his knees, and all of Norma except her face--hidden by her mass of hair.

In the view from the headboard of the bed, the boy lifted his balls with his left hand. I zoomed in. As I thought, his hand was shaking. The Viagra must be on him with all its chemical force. Both hands, one above the other, were curled around his cock, his forearms knotting with muscle as he moved.

Forming a circle that didn’t quite close, his fingers pulled his cock in long strokes. Each time he pushed out over the head, he tightly squeezed, rubbing it with his thumb. The few inches of his belly I could see below his paint-splattered shirt, was what any young executive would give a couple of his retirement stocks to have—a “washboard,” ridges of muscle improbably etched like those on the belly of Michelangelo’s David. His pelvis cupped slightly up, the effort hollowing his buttocks with large, round dimples, and his thighs so unexpectedly massive, were more befitting a shorter man. Built as I now saw him, his cock was in proportion.

I would judge the head of his cock to be half again as big as a golf ball. It looked painful and passionate, shiny and wine dark above the veined shaft. He was dripping. His sack was full, a softly furred purple bag in a thatch of black hair.

Suddenly, the boy leaned over Norma. Still not touching the bed, he was trying to see her face. His head was low, looking closely at her breasts. Then he stood and, still careful to be quiet, quickly cat-stepped to the other side of the bed. (I thought, if an intense stare can penetrate, surely Norma will waken!)

I didn't expect what happened next.

The boy slowly, mounted the bed. He was careful. He put a hand flat to the sheets, slowly transferred his weight onto it, then a foot flat on the bed. Controlling his movement like a burglar, he got to his feet, with one on either side of Norma’s extended leg, and for a moment stood, looking past the length of his cock to my wife’s bottom, her back and face and breasts. His powerful thighs easily held him steady as he slowly sank to his knees, squatting over her extended leg. His cock now jutted out over her bottom, his balls nearly touching her. (I remember thinking that if he touched her, tried to penetrate her, I’d have to run downstairs to stop him.)

But he didn’t. Mouth still open to breathe better, his chest quickly rose and fell. With his left hand holding his balls, his right began the serious business of bringing himself to a climax.

I looked once more at the view from the doorway. I could see Norma’s outstretched leg, her thigh under the boy’s kneeling body, under his bottom. On zoom I saw the hollows appear and disappear on the boys butt as he rhythmically clenched his hips. Then, extending an arm to support himself on a hand beside my wife's crooked arm and pillowed breasts. Under him, I his balls came into view, catching the strong light reflected from Norma's bottom and thighs.

He leaned further, looking into her face. I could see he was still shaking, his legs perhaps sending shock waves into Norma’s sleep. I wondered if she might waken anyway. For a moment I was sorry I’d given him the Viagra. I switched off the door camera, and now only the view from the head of the bed, so close on them, filled the screen. I saw the top of his head and massive shoulders and body held aloft by his squarely planted solid thighs.

From this view, comparing him to Norma, I realized for the first time how big he was. His face now almost touched her hair. He was sniffing her!

Then his cock grazed her bottom. He immediately clutched it higher, and froze, waiting to see if she reacted. Disturbed somewhere deep in her sleep, she only cradled her breasts closer and I heard a sleepy, contented moan. The boy’s face was red, his mouth open, and his legs began to visibly shake. Saliva fell from one corner of his mouth onto Norma’s shoulder. He was clearly caught in the moment of no return from a climax. In the boy’s fist I could see the head of his cock appear and disappear as it bobbed scant centimeters above the wide cleft of her ass. Then he sat back slightly. I couldn’t tell if he were sitting on her leg or not. From my position Norma’s bottom filled the space between the boy’s legs. I tightened the camera's zoom to its maximum. Through the lens, I saw them as if I were sitting just above my wife, no more than a meter and a half from the boy.

His cock had disappeared from view. He was far back enough from her bottom that I didn’t think he was touching her. He looked down between his legs. Sitting tall over her, hips thrust forward, his stomach and thigh muscles strained, standing out indeed like the marble belly and legs of Michelangelo’s David.

His hand moved steadily. He held his cock down, pointed at Norma’s cunt. His lips were parted over clenched teeth, his eyes boring into her bottom, flashed up her back to her breasts and face, and back again into her bottom. The muscles in the arm of the hand he was masturbating with were swelling and hardening just as his thighs were. His hand slowed. Clear liquid dripped from his cock onto my wife’s bottom. The red in the boy’s face turned dark. He stopped moving. His breathing seemed to stop. And then a thin white stream sprayed from his cock. It arced up, out over her bottom, and landed halfway up her back, bouncing and landing further up her back and onto her hair. Little drops came to rest on the pillow beyond her head.

He threw his head back, eyes wide, his mouth now open. He looked like he was screaming, But no sound came. Then there streaked from him a stream of semen so long that it was still coming from him and still a smooth arc in the air when the first of it spewed onto Norma’s hair. Another spurt went beyond her, a drop dotting the lens of the camera I was looking through. Under the thin milky trail of his cum as it slid down and out of view, the image looked misty.

The force of that shot was so great that I did not expect another, but I was wrong. Others came, streaking her hair and back. He lowered his cock, pointing it down, and the spray of one of his shots bounded from her tailbone out over her lower back. A pool was forming.

I thought I saw that some of his semen had spilled back into the cleft of her ass. Each spray that came from him now was only slightly less than its predecessor, dwindling after some 12 or 15 shots to tiny spurts, weak and clear.

Norma moved. Groggy with the sedative she'd taken. Perhaps dreaming, she tucked her head lower into the pillow.

The boy was nimble. As she straightened the leg she had bent up beside her, he just managed to get out of the way. Although he carefully stepped to the floor, an awkward transfer of weight shook the bed. Not waiting for her to react, he ducked down beside the bed on the far side of the bed from me, out of her sight and mine.

Norma pulled the pillow tight to her face and patted the bed behind her, as if looking for me. In a moment, she was again asleep, her arm still behind her.

Now her breasts were bare.

The boy stayed where he was. I could imagine him lying on the carpet, eyes closed, and listening. I looked at Norma. Streams of semen lay across her back, three of them ending in her hair. I looked again at the pool of white on the tip of her spine and zoomed in. Now I could see that it had indeed spilled from the crown of her tailbone into the divide between the first swell of the cheeks of her ass. I wondered if those struggling spermatozoa, now undoubtedly coating the lips of her cunt, were even now swimming instinctively between the lips and into her warmth.

After what seemed like a long time, certainly several minutes, the boy's face appeared at the edge of the bed. He carefully got up. The thick black hair on his chest and between his legs was matted with sweat, hair and skin gleaming in the stark morning light. As before, he leaned as far out over the bed to see Norma’s face. Satisfied, he walked around to the other side of the bed, all the while peering intensely, hungrily at her everywhere, but especially her breasts.

(My God, his cock was still hard! I thought of the Viagra.)

This time he didn’t stroke his cock. As he stood beside the bed, he beat furiously. His balls were in constant motion, bobbing in the air. It was only a moment this time before his climax came. I expected less semen, smaller shots, but as I watched, the power in him reminded me of when I was younger, and that when a woman really turned me on, there had seemed no end to my ability to go again--the second time I shot, somehow there was even more semen. So it was with this boy. His first shot this second time was full, into her ear, laying a thick stripe across her cheek and into the corner of her mouth.

I saw he was directing his cock--aiming!

He shot into her armpit and several times on her breast, then onto her neck. I watched his cum dribble down the slope of one breast onto the other as his last shots were directed again onto her face, one painting her eye. I could see that he was straining his whole body to disgorge his masculinity onto her.

Finally, he squeezed one last gob of semen into his hand, and with a flip of his wrist, flung it onto her face, draping her nose and upper lip. The weight of it, still thick, carried it down from her upper lip to the lower, bridging the gap of her half-open mouth. It painted her tongue.

He stood there, looking at her. I wondered if he saw Norma's lips close, his semen disappearing into her mouth. She tentatively licked her lower lip, clearly not awake yet, swallowed, and drifted off again into deeper sleep.

The boy went around the bed, pulled his little camera from the pocket of his pants, and took several photos, one close on her face. He then gathered his pants and shoes and went to the door, closing it after him as he left.

I went to the bedroom, locked the door behind me, and turned to Norma. I have never seen anything so erotic in my life. What I hadn’t seen from the camera, was how delicious she looked as this boy had seen her. And I hadn’t seen where his semen had gone. Her hair seemed impossibly full of it, three great gobs, one above her ear, one over the nape of her neck, and one half on her forehead and half in her hair. But another pool of it held my attention. His semen had indeed fallen between the cheeks of her bottom. A lot, enough to paint white the wrinkled bud of her asshole and to leave a white line the length of the valley formed by the lips of her cunt.

Careful not to disturb her, I gently dragged my tongue up between those lips, sucking in enough to bring the liquid away from her, but not enough to make sound. Norma is used to me kissing her like this—everywhere on her body while she sleeps. Unsuspecting, she slept on while I cleaned her. I sucked the semen from her hair, carefully licked it from eye, and spent some time kissing (to distract her if she was at all conscious) and licking her back. I saved her mouth for last, knowing I might wake her.

I had worried unnecessarily. She had apparently already swallowed what was in her mouth and only gently kissed me back, not wanting to come out of sleep but not minding either. when I kissed and licked her lips, her mouth was sweet, but with the unmistakable salt amd mild amonia of the young painters cum. I fell more or less asleep with my face again buried between her ass cheeks, my nose over her tailbone and looking up over her back, so that the early morning light coming in from the skylight above came through the sheet l had pulled up over me and as far up her back as I could reach, cupping the sides of her breasts with my hands

 

[MasterSki_30]

Guys, what you all have been talking about in regards to the men that like to know that their wife/gf is fucking another man is called cuckolding. It's just another dimension of our perversions

I could go on and on and tell you lots more, but if anyone is interested in discussing this further, contact me through the site.

There are specific groups of people that talk about this on other sites. What they look for are what are called "Bulls" which is the man that is brought into the relationship to fuck the wife/gf. Ok, I'm telling more than I was going to for now, but you get the point.

Just contact me if you care to talk about this, or if you are interested in this for your wife/gf. Be happy to help.

 

[mikemann]

Guys, what you all have been talking about in regards to the men that like to know that their wife/gf is fucking another man is called cuckolding. It's just another dimension of our perversions

I could go on and on and tell you lots more, but if anyone is interested in discussing this further, contact me through the site.

There are specific groups of people that talk about this on other sites. What they look for are what are called "Bulls" which is the man that is brought into the relationship to fuck the wife/gf. Ok, I'm telling more than I was going to for now, but you get the point.

Just contact me if you care to talk about this, or if you are interested in this for your wife/gf. Be happy to help.

Yes that's what a lot of folks term wife sharing, but in truth more more akin to swinging than cuckholding when the man instigates the fun, or it is a joint decision as with most guys here... True cuckholding according to the old European origins of the word is where the woman decides she wants other men in the pot and the husband isn't given much of a choice in the matter, he goes along with it or leaves her.

Also with the cuckhold husband, he isn't allowed to screw around with other women, only the wife is allowed sexual fun and games to her rules... Some guys like it like this, and are happy to be cuckholded, I think you'll find most guys here are a little more in control and most like myself are free to play the game the other way round as well with another woman or several Another thing we, that is Julie and I, don't do is invite the so called professional Bull's who make a lifestyle of screwing other men's wives into our games, ours is strictly spur of the moment come and get it guys play mainly, with occasional organised orgy parties.

Cuckholding's fun though from a Bull's point, been there and done that when single, and since I wed, half reluctant husband, hot horny slut wife to play with

 

[wyseguys]

More experiences please

Hey, there must be more of you out there that would like to share an experience or two.

 

[mikemann]

Yea come on guys and girls, let's hear from some swingers and wife sharers, including you girls and your angle on it.

 

[swing50s]

Wisconsin

50 yo couple here looking for men for wife to entertain while hubby sits back & watches & joins in as clean up crew

 

[mikemann]

50 yo couple here looking for men for wife to entertain while hubby sits back & watches & joins in as clean up crew

Shame you're so far away, I like the sound of that sport my friend.

 

[KnightWing]

Yep,,, just what the g/f and I are looking for. We are both 50... She has had threesomes and a foursome before. I'm still hoping!!!

Thanks for posting all your events... Gives me hope that maybe someday I'll have mine.

Girlfriend is a nymphomaniac... she cums for hours... and rests for 10 minutes and wants more. I keep up pretty well,,, until the second day!

She wants to see me with another woman,,,and vice versa. She is also interested in the woman,,, where I am not really interested in doing the guy.

Thanks again for everyones stories.

 

[mikemann]

Yep,,, just what the g/f and I are looking for. We are both 50... She has had threesomes and a foursome before. I'm still hoping!!!

Thanks for posting all your events... Gives me hope that maybe someday I'll have mine.

Girlfriend is a nymphomaniac... she cums for hours... and rests for 10 minutes and wants more. I keep up pretty well,,, until the second day!

She wants to see me with another woman,,,and vice versa. She is also interested in the woman,,, where I am not really interested in doing the guy.

Thanks again for everyones stories.

You're lovely g/f sounds just like a person not a million miles away from me at this minute friend, in fact she's in the kitchen at this minute... I have a nympho fuck bucket here who seems unfulfillable most times... I swear she'll kill me off one day and half the guys in the neighbourhood

 

[alek4inc]

i loke older women

If you live in Los Angeles or comming to visit and you are a women in her 30's or 40's and likes getting fucked by guys who are 20 years of age e-mail me at alexshrny@yahoo.com

This dick could be in you.

 

[Doctor Joe]

Another bump to this arousing thread......keep at it guys and gals