all myself "lookingback" because these days that is mostly what I do and, luckily, there is no shortage of memories. Most, but not all, are happy; most, but not all, are repeatable and here is the first (and possibly the last, depending on the response) which I have named after the year in which it happened. Names have been changed of course but not much else.
I was born and brought up in England. A strict religious upbringing had little effect on the way my sexuality (and a particular fantasy) developed from quite an early age. Both the religion and the fantasy have, for all practical purposes, long since run their course, but the mental struggle to reconcile them continues...
In 1972 my first wife Gillian (then aged 23) and I (aged 25) had arranged to go on holiday to Wales with two friends, Paula (a clerk who used to work in the same office as me) and her husband John, who once worked as a miner but had been forced, on health grounds, to take an office job. Gillian and I had a three-year old son. Paula and John, who were a few years older than us, no had children -- possibly something to do with Paula having recurring health problems. The four of us rarely met up together for one reason or another but John and I got on well together and would often socialise or go out for a drink or two and he regularly called round at our house. He was always flattering Gillian who was much more attractive, with her brown eyes, long black hair and hour-glass figure, than his wife, who was plain in comparison (a biased view of course!) and they would flirt a lot both in my presence and sometimes behind my back. Gillian obviously liked the attention and, to be honest, so did I because one of my long-held fantasies was to watch someone else having sex with her -- perhaps even more than one. We had never done this of course but Gillian knew from our sex together that this idea turned me on and she therefore played along with it. She had no idea, nor had I, how far we would ever take it, if indeed we ever did. So a fantasy it remained.
A few days before we were due to set off on holiday Paula's delicate health took a turn for the worse. She was off work and told us that they wouldn't be able to go with us. We had pre-booked to stay in a three-bed chalet near to the coast in South Wales (where Gillian and I had stayed the year before) so I said why not let John come on his own and travel down in our car. It made sense so this is what was eventually agreed and this is what happened.
We had a really good holiday. Without Paula to keep him in line John was flirting with Gillian every day -- putting his arms around her or patting her bum, but never venturing too far, although he knew I was fairly cool about it. In the evenings John and I would usually drive off to the nearby village pub for a couple of drinks, leaving Gillian child-minding our son for an hour or two. We'd bring back some drinks for her -- barley wine was popular with her at the time -- and we'd sit around talking before going to our respective beds.
It got to Thursday, the day before we were due to return home. It had been really hot and we'd been in shorts blackberry picking in the afternoon. We were all in high spirits. That evening we followed the usual pattern except that John insisted on buying a few more bottles of barley wine than usual. When we got back to the chalet he seemed to make a point of filling Gillian's glass more quickly than usual so that she was on her third bottle in no time at all. She was obviously getting a bit tipsy and said something like "Three of these and I'm anybody's," to which he responded by opening a fourth bottle. This made us all laugh, in the course of which Gillian threw a cushion at him which he promptly threw back. A cushion fight between them followed which somehow ended up with John kneeling astride Gillian who was lying on the floor.
She had on a red jumper and blue denim jeans and John started to tickle her around her bare waist. Gillian was always very sensitive there and was helpless, calling for me to help her. When I think back, I realise that this was the critical point which would determine whether the fantasy would ever become reality. Instead of helping Gillian, my lust took hold of me and, without giving any thought to the possible consequences, I grabbed both of Gillian's hands and pinned them down above her head as she lay on the floor. John immediately took this as licence to go further and within seconds his hands had found their way up inside her jumper feeling and squeezing her breasts and playing with her nipples. I watched this going on for several minutes getting more and more horny and wondering where it was leading although I honestly didn't think it would result in full sex -- just the three of us fooling around. I didn't even worry when one of John's hands found its way down the front of her jeans so that his fingers obviously must have been touching her between the legs but then, giving her breasts a break from his attentions, her unzipped her jeans, stood up and pulled them down and right off. She had on a pair of gorgeous red lace see-through panties through which her pubic hair was clearly visible. Intoxicated as I was by lust I continued to hold her arms above her head while John prised her legs apart and, with her panties still on, began to rub and lick at her pussy.
As I leant over her she looked into my eyes -- maybe for approval, I don't know, and I just signalled it by licking my lips towards her. John then moved her panties to one side and was licking her in a way I had never imagined possible and certainly never done up to that point. I watched as his tongue shot in and out of her and as he continued to lick and suck her pussy, which by now must have been dripping wet. We were now beyond the point of no return.
John then stood up and took off first his jeans and then his boxer shorts. I had always thought of my penis as average plus -- certainly not small -- but I was shocked to see how big John's was -- not just erect but pointing upwards. He was a bigger man than me in every sense and there was no way I could now stop what was happening. He ripped Gillian's panties down, pulled them right off and just forced himself into her as far as he could. Now, as she stared into my eyes, it was her turn to lick her lips. I then trapped her hands between my knees, leaned over and pulled her jumper right up, only then realising that she hadn't been wearing a bra. The thing was at this stage that Gillian could easily have got her hands free if she had been determined enough but she was by now holding on to me, rather than the other way round: from being initially reluctant at the turn of events, it appeared that she had now become a willing participant, though she wanted to keep up the pretence of being held down and raped.
As I squeezed and pulled her breasts up together John took hold of her hips and started fucking her -- slowly at first but then gradually faster and faster until he was fucking her as hard as he could like an animal. She groaned with pleasure and unless she was faking (which I doubt) I think she came twice before he did and as he continued pounding her his aggression got a bit scary as he gritted his teeth and said she'd been asking for this all week and called her things like a 'stuck up fucking bitch' until he finally came inside her with a vengeance. He stayed there for a full minute or two, going back to her breasts which he kissed, bit, sucked and squeezed until the whole thing subsided. Very little was said between us either then or later. Eventually we went to our respective beds and, for the first time in my life (but not the last) I had what I think these days is called 'sloppy seconds' -- fucking my wife for all I was worth lubricated by someone else's cum inside her.
The holiday ended soon afterwards as we returned home the next day; our marriage sadly ended in 1980 -- about eight years later. Although Gillian and I never went down that particular road again, our sex life for the next few years was enriched by the experience and we often had John with us in spirit, if not in the flesh. I don't think Paula ever knew what had happened. It was at the time a bitter/sweet experience to say the least and memorable because it was the first time that I had taken the chance to turn a long-held fantasy into a reality. Though many of the things I ended up doing during my next relationship by far exceeded that described above, it always stays in my mind -- even now over 30 years later -- maybe because of the 'lost innocence' of three people who came together (if you'll pardon the expression) one hot night in 1972.