Too Much Fun

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Paperboy gets a better tip than her husband expects.
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My husband, John, and I have a great relationship and we're very close. We aren't as possessive of each other as most couples when it comes to sex, or at least he isn't. I still have some feelings of jealousy that I'm trying to work through. John is remarkably free sexually, and he actually likes it when I accept my desires and have the courage to experience my fantasies. It's a turn-on for him, and I appreciate the benefits.

I wouldn't call either of us Swingers; we just like to explore our fantasies, sometimes with other people. We're careful about respecting each other, and tell each other our plans long before anything happens. When I had a boyfriend, for example, I always asked for John's permission to see him. And I tell John everything that happened when I was with my boyfriend.

Well, usually we ask. Once John requested that I be 'adventurous' while he was away at work. It turned out that John didn't mean what I thought he meant, and that's what this story is about.

I was born and raised in Japan, and I lived there until the age of 22. I came to America to study English. Everything I knew about America I learned from James Dean movies, so my expectations were a lot different from reality. During my first month of college in America, I unexpectedly fell in love with an American man and we moved in together, which was difficult to hide from my parents. Eventually we were married and had children.

John works hard to stay in shape. He and his friends do a lot of running and lifting weights, and they sometimes go on bike trips together. He's tall and muscular and he's getting more handsome with age.

I do yoga, I tried lifting weights but lost interest, and I do some jogging almost every morning. I'm about fifteen centimeters shorter than John, and I have a thin but curvy figure. I prefer to keep my hair traditional, long and straight black, rather than participate in the current Japanese trend by lightening my hair color to a rusty brown. I suppose it's because I don't go home more than once every two years or so. In America my hair seems special without changing its color.

A few months ago my husband arranged for two of his friends to come over and help me with one of my fantasies. We really enjoyed it, and for several months, when ever John and I discussed it we'd get horny as hell. We couldn't keep our hands off each other. The excitement of that moment started to fade over time, we teased each other that maybe it was time to try something like that again.

So when John was leaving for work some time ago and asked me to be especially naughty, code for sexual, I was caught off guard but not really surprised by his request. I agreed that I would try, but was unable to imagine how I would be able to arrange something like that on such short notice. Usually we discussed it for weeks before acting. But I assured John that I would try to do as he asked. He kissed me and went to work, and I was left wondering how to fulfill his request.

I stand in our kitchen, staring at the door through which my husband just left. The smell of his cologne still lingers as I hear him close the car door. His car starts and he backs out of the garage and down the drive way. He gives me a final wave through the front window, and then drives to work. Suddenly it makes sense that he arranged for the kids to stay with his mother for a couple of days.

Unable to think of any ideas at the moment, I decide to begin my day in its usual way. I change out of my pajamas and into my jogging outfit. I like to show off my body, so I wear a black sports bra and a little red pair of running shorts that clings to my shape. After I've finished my stretching I leave home and head for the park.

I like to run on a trail that winds through the park and follows the river. The park has play equipment for kids, basketball courts, a gazebo, and a pedestrian bridge that crosses the river. I usually run over the pedestrian bridge, work my way through a residential neighborhood on the opposite side of the river, and then cross back over on another bridge further up stream. Then I follow the trail along the river to get back home. In all it's about a two mile run, just enough to keep me in shape.

Today I take my usual route over the pedestrian bridge and through town on the opposite side of the river. After crossing back over up stream, I get on the park trail which takes me past the basketball courts.

As I approach the courts I notice a group of about six lightly dressed young men engaged in a very heated game of basketball, judging by all the grunting. As I get nearer, two guys stand out from the rest. One looks to be in his early twenties with short dark hair and a well muscled body. He's wet with sweat and his knee length shorts flap in the wind as he runs up and down the court. The other man that attracts my attention is younger, and clearly not good at basketball. But his sandy blonde hair, shorts, and runner's body are enough to make me want to watch the game. There's a park bench along the trail that faces the basketball courts. I slow to a walk and take a seat on the bench. They are all too busy to notice me as I sit.

Both the heat of the summer morning, and their struggle with each other are making them sweat, and their shirtless bodies glisten in the sun. They jump and duck, weaving between each other and coordinating their movements with bursts of speed and power. Their muscles flex and they grunt as they leap between each other. Shorts cling tightly to their bodies and hang heavy with sweat. In their competition they wrestle through the members of the opposing team, penetrate their defenses and score. It all begins to look so sexual.

I lose track of time, and I realize that sweat is running off my body, and my heart is pounding despite having stopped running some time ago. For a moment I fantasize about stripping off all my clothes and walking casually into the middle of their game. But I decide that it's time to stop enjoying the show, and finish the half mile run I have left.

Once home I burst through the door and head immediately for the shower, removing my clothes as I go. I step into the shower, and turn on the hot water. My heart is still pounding, and I masturbate with my finger as the water runs through my hair. The heat from the water pounds into my shoulders and runs down my legs.

I could never masturbate properly in the shower; there are just too many distractions. When all the sweat is washed away, I turn off the water and wrap myself in my favorite pink towel. Just as I enter our bedroom with its warm soft bed and my beloved vibrator, which I call my 'toy', the doorbell rings. I pause for a moment wondering who it could possibly be, and I try to decide if I want to answer.

"Oh crap...It's Thursday, I have to pay for the paper." I say to myself.

I had forgotten to pay for the paper several times in the past, and John has had to renew our subscription often because of it. I don't understand why I can't just pay twice as much next week, or why we have to go through the trouble of renewing the subscription every time, but I do know that I would rather not have to listen to John tease me about missing another payment.

I forget my toy and walk down the hall toward the front door with the pink towel wrapped around me, when a very naughty idea occurs to me. The paperboy is becoming more handsome every day, and he has an adorable personality. I've caught him checking me out several times. He's unnaturally nice to me, and he often goes out of his way to greet me when we meet accidentally. He's too young of course, but he did mention that he'll be starting his first year of college at the end of this summer. Just thinking about using the paperboy to fulfill John's request makes my spine tingle and I tingle in other places too.

I pause in front of the bathroom door to think it over. I decide that if nothing else, I'll show off a little and have some fun with him, I always enjoy showing off. I honestly don't know if anything else will happen, I suppose it depends on his reaction to me.

I return to the bathroom and exchange my large pink towel for a much smaller one. The new towel is yellow and just barely wraps around my body. My hands shake as I wrap the towel around me and tuck the ends together. A large gap, where the towel fails to overlap runs up my side and shows very clearly that I'm nude otherwise. It's also very short, just barely covering my most private parts.

I give myself a quick look in the mirror, and I like what I see. A coy smile spreads across my face as I head for the door. The doorbell rings again just as I peak through the window, I don't want to surprise the wrong person.

I feel both relief and excitement as I look up at his smiling face. Once again he has dressed for the warm weather, and is wearing only shoes and a pair of shorts. I open the door and invite him to come inside quickly. I apologize for my lack of clothing, and feign embarrassment. His smile fades, and his expression changes to a very familiar 'horny man' look, as he studies my towel. He looks very happy, but too embarrassed to smile openly as his eyes search me.

"Sorry." I say again, while indicating my lack of clothing with a sweep of my hand.

"Oh...that's alright."

"Is it still $7.50?" I ask.

"Oh...Uhm...Yes, yes it is."

He stares with his jaw hanging open slightly, and he's barely able to concentrate on the conversation. His eyes follow my curves and he fiddles with his hands as if unable to decide what to do with them. Not once has he looked me in the eyes since I invited him in.

I turn my back to him and use my sexiest runway walk to the kitchen table where I keep my purse. I open my purse, keeping my feet shoulder width apart, and pretend that I can't find my money. I bend at my hips and arch my back while looking deep inside. I can feel the towel being pulled up as I bend at the waist, exposing my pussy. The cool morning air on my body confirms that he can see everything, if he chooses to look. I continue digging and shifting my weight, and I stand on my tip toes a few times in an apparent attempt to locate my billfold.

"Ah, here it is. I was beginning to think I'd lost it." I remove the billfold from my purse and turn toward him. I'm counting out the bills and coins, and just as I get within arms length of him, my towel tucking job undoes itself with a pop and the towel drops to the floor. It's as much a surprise to me as it is to him. Here I stand, bare assed naked, holding some change and a billfold.

"Uhm...Here you go." The cat was out of the bag, so to speak, so I just hand him the money without making any attempt to cover myself. His eyes remain fixed on my breasts and he tries to speak, but words fail him. He takes the money absentmindedly, with his eyes still locked on my breasts.

"So you're going off to college this year. You must be excited. Aren't you too young for college?" I ask, as I stand in front of him nude and holding the billfold. He shakes his head, and then realizes that he's staring. In a panic he raises his eyes to look into mine and his face turns bright red.

"Oh, no, I turned eighteen last, October." He says, with a great effort to keep his eyes up. I explore his body with my eyes and there is a sizeable tent being made of his shorts, and the center pole is his very erect cock.

With my eyes on his groin I ask, "Do you have a girlfriend?"

"No, I don't", he answers with an uncertain smile.

With my eyes still locked on his groin, I say "Hmm...You look happy to see me." He doesn't speak, and seems frozen in place. Keeping my eyes on his shorts I drop to my knees in front of him. My hands reach out and press the fabric of his shorts on each side of his cock. Very gently my hands slide up, and I hook my fingers over the top of his shorts. I pull down slightly, but the elastic band hangs up on the head of his penis. My left hand reaches in and frees the fabric, lightly brushing the head of his penis while my right hand pulls down his shorts. He swings free and I hold his cock in my hand. Very gently I kiss the head and slide my tongue down his shaft to his balls. I lick his balls and bury my nose in his pubic hair, breathing in his smell.

"Oh, shit." He says.

I smile at his enthusiasm, then take him completely into my mouth and slowly slide my head back and fourth on him, sucking slightly. I grab his shaft with my right hand and start pumping him, while my tongue swirls around the head of his cock. Suddenly and without warning, his cock explodes with semen that shoots into my mouth and down my throat. Instinctively my mouth closes, but I continue pumping with my hand as he splatters my face. He squirts me with cum almost a dozen times, and with surprising force behind each blast.

"That was fast...and powerful!" I say.

Breathlessly, he looks down at me and answers, "Sorry."

I grab the yellow towel from the floor and clean the cum off my face. When I've gotten most of it, I drop the towel and rise to my feet. I grip his softening cock firmly and resume stroking him.

"Think you can do that again? Or are you done?" I ask. The answer comes from my hand as his cock springs to attention almost immediately, and a sheepish smile spreads across his face.

"Yes, you can do it again." I say as I turn and walk to John's chair. This is John's favorite chair, and according to him, only he can sit in it. I think he'll appreciate me fulfilling his request here, so I sit with my legs open and motion for my paper boy to come nearer. He steps out from the shorts around his ankles and walks toward me.

"Have you done this before?" I ask.

"No." he replies cautiously.

"Think you know how it works?"

"Yes" he answers.

He kneels between my legs and guides his cock into me while I hold my pussy lips open for him. He slides in easily and begins an awkward, unpracticed thrusting that has no rhythm. His eyes remain fixed on his cock as he penetrates me, and he seems to be working out the best way to move his body.

I lay back and watch his face. He's completely focused and doesn't notice me watching him. He's slightly pink in the face, and sweat beads on his forehead. His expression is one of disbelief and anticipation.

Over time he works himself into an accelerating rhythm, "Hmm, that's it." I assure him. I lift my legs from the floor and hold my knees to my breasts, giving him better access. His rhythm accelerates again and he starts slamming into me with appreciated force, he's nearly ready to cum.

"Are you gon'na...?" But I never finish my question.

He grunts, and his eyes roll up to the ceiling. His cock spasms several times inside me and he fills my pussy with semen. He pauses a moment, then without warning he withdraws his penis, pulling most of his cum with it, which spills out onto the chair. He looks around awkwardly, and seems unsure of what happens next. He acts like he wants to say something, but doesn't know what.

"That was fun." I say, "You can get dressed, Ok?"

"Ah, yes." He gets to his feet, picks up his shorts, and puts them on backwards. He realizes his mistake, steps out of them again, and then he puts them on the right way. I smile, but manage not to laugh.

"Can I have a good-bye kiss?" I ask, when he looks up at me again. He walks over and kisses me on the lips with a little too much force. My legs are held open slightly and my hand is clamped firmly on my pussy to prevent more of his cum from spilling out.

"Thanks for coming." Immediately it seems an awkward thing for me to say, and I blush at my choice of words.

"Thanks" he replies. He opens the door, waves with a smile, and closes the door behind him. Then he's off to the next house to collect payment. I think to myself that the tip from the neighbor's won't be nearly as good.

"Well that should satisfy John" I say to myself, "now it's my turn." With the yellow towel held between my legs I return to our bedroom and make my toy work until I'm afraid it might overheat. After I take a quick shower and prepare something for lunch it's nearly three o'clock in the afternoon. I'm not expecting to see John for another two hours when his car pulls into the driveway. He practically bursts through the door as I stand at the sink draining the broccoli. He looks me up and down, and his expression turns from one of passion to confusion.

John asks "What's going on? I thought I asked you to be ready for me when I got home? You said you'd do it"

"I didn't think you'd be home at three... What did you want to be ready?" I ask.

He considers me for a moment and replies "I said I wanted you to wear that little black outfit with the boots, and to be a naughty girl. I said I'd try to get home early. Am I too early?"

I am not a native English speaker, and sometimes it causes a miscommunication between us. We've had this experience many times, and most of the time we can laugh about it. Silently I run the mornings conversation through my mind. A slight twinge of panic starts to build in me and I wonder if I completely misunderstood him. The night his two friends came over, he asked me to be naughty and it definitely meant sex. Could he have meant something else this time? And how did I completely miss the whole 'black outfit' thing. I have to clarify this morning's conversation.

"When you asked me to be naughty this morning, what did you mean?" I asked.

"Well... I was kind of hoping you'd dress sexy for me, maybe use your toy, and be all hot and bothered for me when I got back. I guess I should've called..."

I am really beginning to panic now. "The last time you said you wanted me to be naughty you meant you wanted me to fuck two of your friends."

John pauses and looks at me a moment before asking "What's going on? Are you regretting that or something?"

"Oh shit...Oh shhhit!"

"What's the matter?"

"Oh shit. I don't know...How am I...?" Words fail me.

John starts to panic too, but he wraps his arms around me and asks "What's the matter?"

I didn't know what to say or how to start. English doesn't come naturally to me, and it's ten times harder when my mind isn't clear. I can't think of a way to explain anything. I want to start from the beginning and talk it through to the end, but my mind is frozen. I can't imagine how John will take it. Part of me thinks he might just laugh it off and fuck the hell out of me, but I really don't know. Minutes pass as my mind races. I decide to just blurt out the story in its simplest form and hope for the best.

"I had sex with the paperboy!"

John, first surprised by my answer, thinks I'm joking but stifles a laugh when he realizes I'm serious. He crosses his arms, and then with a concerned look on his face he asks me why.

"I thought you asked me to, I thought that's what you meant when you asked me to be naughty, I thought this was something you asked me to do! I never would have done it if I didn't think you asked! That's why you got rid of the kids! Why are they gone? Oh shit. I told you, you have to be very clear with me, and I only understand half of what you say sometimes... you know that! We've been through this before. Well, not exactly this, but things like this. Why are you smiling?"

John just stands silently with his arms crossed and a growing smile on his face. Then he bursts into booming, room filling laughter while I am angry, scared, and confused. I decide that this is not the time for me to start yelling at him, so I stop talking and wait for his laughing to cease.

"Where?" He asks.

"Where what?"

"Where did you have sex with the paperboy?" He asks again.

I put my hands in my pockets and lower my gaze. I watch the toe of my shoe kick around an imaginary bit of dirt on the kitchen floor.

"In your chair." I reply sheepishly.

John turns to look at his chair, and so do I. That's when I see that I neglected to clean it. A crusty white substance has dried to the cushion and it hangs over the edge. John sees it too. The image of the cum stained chair really drives home the fact that I had sex with another man without my husband's permission.

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