My wife and I were walking in the neighborhood park when we heard a woman moan. The sound seemed to come from an enormous juniper hedge just off the path. We had both heard the rumors of muggings and even rapes that had supposedly taken place in the park, so we were concerned. My wife went off the path towards the hedge. I followed. It took us some time to find an opening, and this was little more than a crawlspace. My wife crawled in. I went after her, taking advantage of the opportunity to get a close-up view of her full, round ass in gray sweat shorts.
The crawl space did not lead to the other side of the hedge, but to a kind of cave-like space within it. There was an opening here and there in the hedge, like windows, from which you could see into a hidden garden. It was not much of a garden though, just some unmown grass, a few large flat rocks. Near the rocks stood a man and a woman kissing.
My wife and I had seen both of them walking in the park before, just never together. We usually saw the woman walking with her husband, pushing her baby in a baby carriage. We had chatted with them once or twice, and I had wondered how two blonde-haired, blue-eyed people had wound up with an olive-skinned, black-haired baby. Had I not seen the woman pregnant a few months before, I would have assumed that they had adopted it. Now I understood that the baby was probably not her husband's at all, but the child of this man she was now kissing, who also had black hair and olive skin.
When we saw the man he was usually running, alone. He ran countless laps, always shirtless, and his face and body were so perfect that I had always thought he must be an underwear model or something. Sometimes when he ran past us, I would glance at my wife, to see what her reaction was to him. I was secretly jealous. I felt sure she was looking at him and that there was desire in her eyes. When I finally asked her how she felt about the man, she shrugged as though she had not paid him a thought.
It was obvious enough to us now that this was the woman who had moaned, and that her moan had not been one of pain. She moaned again, as if to reassure us that this was the case, as she kissed the man's muscular neck. I had always thought the woman was very pretty, and now I was envious as she kissed the man's brown chest, sucked on his nipples, bit each "can" of his "six pack." She paused to strip off her clothes. Her body was very different from my wife's. She was thin, pale, with small breasts and narrow hips, while my wife was full-figured, with café-au-lait-colored skin, broad hips and full breasts—an oldfashioned beauty, the sort of woman who looks like she's designed to bear children. This woman's body reminded me of a girl's, only beginning to develop. Were it not for the faint remnants of stretch marks, I would not have believed that she'd so recently had a baby.
With her girl-like body now naked, she went down on to her knees before the man. While tonguing his belly button, she tugged down his jogging shorts. He was wearing a jock strap beneath. The white straps cut across his hard brown ass. The mesh pouch up front was bulging. The blonde woman slipped her fingers beneath the waistband and pulled down his jock strap. Out flopped his half-hard cock. How big it was, I don't know. It was probably quite big. It was certainly bigger than my six-incher, but it was difficult to tell exactly, partly because the size of his big muscular body made his cock look smaller than it was, but mainly because his balls were so big. They seemed almost out of proportion to the size of his cock. They reminded me of the testicles one sees on a stud bull or stallion. It was his balls, more than his cock even, that had been filling up the pouch of his jock strap.
The woman licked and sucked at his balls, taking one into her little mouth, and then the other. To take them both in at once would have been impossible. She began running her little pink tongue up and down the length of his cock, which was now getting hard. She took the head between her lips. He slipped his fingers into the loose knot of silky blonde hair behind her head, and pushed his cock into her mouth.
I thought my wife would be offended by all of this. She has always disapproved of marital infidelity in general, and she has always said that sucking penis is degrading to women. I was sure the way he had her head palmed in his big hand and was pushing it back and forth on his cock would offend her especially. And so I was surprised when I glanced over and saw my wife entranced by what she was seeing. Her full lips were parted. Her dark eyes were wide, the pupils dilated so much that they looked almost black. Her chest was heaving. She could not quite catch her breath. She was holding on one of the juniper branches so tightly that her knuckles had gone white. I had never seen her this way before. She was so caught up in watching the couple that she didn't even realize I was staring at her.
When I looked again out though the branches, I saw the woman was on her hands and knees, and the man was behind her on his knees (his jock straps and shorts still down around his ankles) positioning himself to push his cock into her pussy. Though I knew she'd just had a baby, I was afraid for her. He was so big, and she was so thin and frail and girl-like, with those narrow hips, that I half-thought that he would tear her apart. But when I leaned a little to the side, I could see that her pussy looked swollen, open, red, glistening with wetness—ready for him. He slipped into her easily. She moaned and clawed at the long grass, pulling out handfuls. He pounded away at her, his pelvis slapping against her small, girl-like ass. I stole glances of my wife, who had pressed her hand to her chest, as though her heart hurt. I don't know how much time passed. I don't how many times I thought that the blonde woman must be coming, judging by the way she moaned and panted and cried out, when the man, who had not said a word until now, asked,
"Do you want it?"
"God yes," she said between clenched teeth.
She thrust her ass back and up. He drove his cock in to the hilt, stiffened, and stiffened again. He was holding her by the pelvis to keep himself in as deep as possible. When he finally relaxed and slipped out of her, a long thick strand of semen hung momentarily between the head of his cock and her swollen pussy. He wiped it on her ass, leaving a wet shiny smear on her white skin. He stood, pulled up his jock strap, arranging his big cock and balls to fit them inside the pouch, and then pulled up his shorts. He resumed his jog, going out the garden gate on the far side of the hidden garden.
The blond woman lay on the grass, which was all torn up from her clawing at it. She felt around for her clothes. She slipped on her panties inside out, put on her shorts. She found her bra and stuffed into her bag. She put on her t-shirt without it, so her little breasts hung loose, and we could still see their forms, the still-erect nipples, thought the thin fabric of the shirt. She put back on her socks and her walking shoes. She then stood and went to what I had been too busy watching her and the man to notice before: a baby carriage. It was the same baby carriage that she sometimes pushed with her husband. She leaned over the opening of the carriage, made some funny faces to her baby, talked baby talk to it, reached in to caress it.. As she pushed the carriage towards the gate, humming a tune, I could see a big wet mark on the crotch of her walking shorts where the man's semen was dripping out of her.
My wife said very little about what we had seen. When I asked her if it had excited her, she shrugged and said, "Of course not." I tried to make love to her, hoping that what we had seen had put her in the mood, but she pushed me away, as usual, telling me she didn't feel like it. She went to take a bath, and stayed in much longer than usual. .
The following day was Monday. As I work late, my wife usually goes to the park alone on weekdays. She's concerned about her weight, though I tell her again and again her full figured body is sexy.
All morning at work I was worried of what might happen if my wife saw the man while at the park. Would she make eyes at him? Would she make some excuse to speak to him? How far would she go?
After lunch I went to my boss and asked him for the afternoon off. He gave it to me. When I mentioned that I might need several afternoons, he told me to take them and not to worry. I'd always been a good, reliable worker, and he wanted to show his appreciation.
I went straight to the park and waited at a gazebo where I knew my wife never went.. When my wife arrived at the park, she was dressed as usual, in gray sweat shorts, a black t-shirt, and walking shoes. Her body was smooth and soft and full.
She began to walk our usual route. I could see her all the while from the gazebo. She was on her second lap when the man, shirtless as usual, ran past her. Even from a distance I could see she was watching him from behind, admiring the breadth of his shoulders, the tapering waist, the muscled ass and legs. Still, I was surprised when she began running after him. My wife never jogs. She had to practically sprint to catch up with him, and when she finally alongside him it was difficult for her to keep up. When it seemed that he would leave her behind, she grabbed his hand. This slowed him down. He smiled, but did not seem especially surprised. They jogged, more slowly now, hand in hand to the gate of the hidden garden.
I ran as fast as I could to the opening in the hedge we'd found the day before. By the time I got there, they were already kissing. My wife had never kissed me the way she was kissing him. She looked hungry. She bit and sucked on his lips. She licked his neck. She then stood back, remembering what the blonde woman had done, and removed her clothes. In a moment my wife's full light-brown breasts, with nipples only a half-shade darker, were exposed in the sunlight. She was naked except for a pair of gray cotton panties. She licked his sweaty brown chest, sucked at his big dark-brown nipples, bit at each "can" of his "sixpack," just as the blonde woman had done—play-biting at them, sucking and licking them, tasting his sweat.
She went down on her knees. She tongued his bellybutton, tugged down his shorts and jockstrap all at once. Out flopped his fat, half-hard cock, those tremendous balls. For a moment she just stared at it. She closed her eyes and licked his cock. Her nostrils flared and quivered. The cock-smell must have been very strong, with all the sweat and running. She licked his balls, took one, then the other into her mouth. She ran her pink tongue up the length of his shaft. She kissed and sucked at the throbbing head. In a moment he'd worked his fingers into my wife's thick dark hair, pushed her head onto his cock, and was fucking her mouth, or rather having her fuck him with her mouth. Nothing on him moved but his hand, to guide her head back and forth.
My wife hardly ever sucks me, and she had never sucked me the way she was doing this guy. You could see her tongue working inside her cheek as she swirled it around the head of his cock. She deep-throated him, so that her lips touched the stubble of his pubic hair. Every so often she paused to lick and kiss the throbbing veiny shaft. But mostly she simply sucked, moving her head back and for to the rhythm set by the pressure of his hand. The sucked—the is the best comparison I can think of—like a calf sucking at an utter, with desperate but childish hunger. The man closed his eyes, tilted his head back, looked down to admire the beautiful woman who was my wife, sucking his cock so hungrily. He grabbed his water bottle that he'd set on the stone beside him, twisted off the cap, turned it up, and took a long casual swallow, while my wife sucked his cock all the while. Finally, after she'd sucked him what seemed to me forever, he closed his eyes again, tensed. Every muscle on his sweaty muscled body stood out. He groaned, holding my wife firmly by the hair, and came into her mouth.
"Mmm," she mewled, taking his hard muscled ass into her hands to hold him, as if she feared he would slip away from her before she could drink it all. . "Mmm."
She swallowed again and again, but could not swallow fast enough. A trickled of semen ran out the corner of her mouth. She licked it back in quickly with her tongue. When she saw a little remaining semen about to drip from his cock, now only half hard again, she lapped that up too..
He pulled up his jockstrap and shorts, did a couple of stretches. He was about to resume his jog when he noticed my wife's eyes were very bright.. Between her legs a dark wet patch showed through her panties. She looked down where he was looking, saw how wet she was, covered the spot with her hands, and blushed pink in a way that I'd never seen her blush before.
"Look," he said, evidently feeling sorry for her. "I've got three more laps. If you like, I can come back when I'm done and . . .."
My wife nodded rapidly. Her eyes lit up even more. She smiled. (She has a very beautiful smile).
The man ran out the gate and resumed his jog. My wife slipped on her t-shirt, not bothering with the bra or her shorts. She took from her bag a condom, not the condoms that I use on her (or used to use on her), but some she must have bought especially for the occasion, the extra-large size. After a moment's hesitation she tore open the foil packet, took the condom out. She was sitting on one of the stones, her legs spread without her seeming to notice it. The wet patch at the crotch of her panties had grown bigger than ever. The entire front of her panties was soaked, made transparent with wetness, so that the dark area of her pubic hair was visible through the fabric.
She fidgeted, looked at the gate. She touched herself, again without thinking about it, then caught herself and stopped, evidently wanting to save herself for him. She stood, paced the grassy area, still torn up looking by the other woman the day before. She found a patch, a little closer to where I was, that was fresher looking. When the man ran back in through the gate, she pulled off the shirt at once, again exposing her breasts. She pulled off her panties too, went down on her knees, and raised her round ass, obviously eager to be fucked.
The man took off his running shoes, taking his time. He removed his shorts and jock strap and stood before her with nearly hard cock and those tremendous balls. At the sight of them something changed in my wife's eyes. They seemed to go dark. She extended her arm in my direction, and I caught sight of the large ring of the condom, just before she tossed it away into the long grass.
I was worried. She wasn't on the pill. I considered coming out of the bushes, putting a stop to what was about to happen, or at least trying to. But then I remembered how when we were first married she sometimes let me fuck her without a condom if I agreed to pull out before I came. I thought maybe she would do that with this man, and . . . well, to tell the truth, I was afraid she wouldn't stop even if I asked her to, she looked so eager to be fucked: I had never seen her this way before.
I have always thought my wife's pussy was small and tight. It had always felt that way to me on those rare occasions when she let me fuck her. It had never occurred to me that her pussy felt small and tight because she was never very excited. Now, as she went down on her elbows and held her full round ass up for him, I could see her pussy was open, swollen, glistening wet, and very red—the red constrasting sharply with the black of her pubic hair. Her pussy looked inflamed.He went down on his knees behind her, slipped his big cock into her easily. It made a wet sloshing sound as it went in, as though he were dipping his cock into liquid.
"Jesus, you're soaked," he said under his breath.
He fucked her much as he had the blonde woman, and my wife seemed to enjoy it, if anything, more. She too tore out handfuls of grass. She too thrust her ass back and up to meet his thrusts. I had never seen her this way before. She was making all sorts of sounds that I had never heard before—sounds so different than the feeble attempts at faking orgasms she'd made with me. She moaned. She screamed. She said, "Oh Jesus" and "Oh God," and especially "fuck me" over and over. She said she'd never been fucked this way before. She whimpered, she cooed. She made low deep animal sound. When she began to get really loud he told her that she needed to keep it down. The people walking on the track might hear. She bit her finger, but still she made sounds. She whimpered, she sighed, she cooed and oooohed and ahhhhed. All the while her pussy made that wet shoshing sound as he fucked it. "God I'm going to cum," she said. "I'm going to cum . . . I'm going to. . . " She bit her finger. She screamed onto her finger.
"Do you want it?"
"God yes," she said in a hoarse low voice that did not sound like her own.
He grabbed her by the pelvis—much wider than the blonde's pelvis had been—and plunged as deeply as he could go. His whole body stiffened as he came into my wife's pussy. She was panting, sweating, smiling. Have I said that she has a beautiful smile?
"I can feel it shooting inside of me," she said, laughing.
He pulled out, and she gasped and let out another frustrated whimper. He wiped his dick on her ass, leaving a wet smear of semen. He stood, slipped on his jock strap and shorts, put back on his shoes, and jogged away.
My wife, like the blond, did not recover so quickly. She lay on the grass a long time, sighing. Her legs were spread. Semen oozed out of her pussy, pearly white against her black pubic hair. When she finally got dressed and left, the crotch of her sweat shorts were soaked.
I went to the juniper hedge every afternoon for the rest of the week. I watched the man fuck my wife again and again. He fucked her standing up against the rocks. He had her sit on top of him and fucked her from below. He fucked her doggie-style again. She sucked him off I don't know how many times. (One evening while we were talking just before supper she burped and her breath smelled of his cum). But mostly he fucked her in the good old fashioned missionary position. She had always told me that she found missionary style degrading, but she seemed to like that best with him.
The missionary position: my view was mainly one of his broad back, with her shapely hands caressing it and clawing at it; his hard brown ass pumping away, with my wife's full thighs and legs spread wide on either side; his enormous balls just below, with an occasional peek of her asshole as he moved in and out of her.
I once saw while she was coming for the umpteenth time something I could hardly believe: a big brown turd oozed out of her asshole. He had quite literally fucked the shit out of her. She was so embarrassed when she realized what she'd done that she turned deep red. He told her not to worry about it, like someone who'd seen such things happen before. Evidently to prove to her that he didn't think she was disgusting, he had her wipe herself clean, led her to a clean area of grass, and gave her a good long ass-fucking. She left the park with his semen oozing out of both holes that day.
I often was not alone in the cave-like opening inside the hedge. Old men whom I had seen sitting on park benches, boys I'd seen skate boarding, young bachelors who took evening strolls, men who normally walked with their wives (including the husband of that blond) were often kneeling beside me, watching my wife get fucked in every possible manner. They undid their pants, pulled out their cocks, and beat off to the sight of her being fucked, coming as my wife came, shooting their semen onto the fallen brown juniper needles.