Abby Rode

Jean just watched in silence, apparently very entertained.

Kevin and Renee walked down the stairs, next. Renee didn't look nearly as put together without make-up, but her clothes were clean and pressed thanks to Dru and Greg. Kevin looked like he hadn't slept in days and reeked of alcohol, body odor, and sex. Renee didn't seem to mind or notice.

"Want some coffee?" Jean asked the couple.

"No, I think we're going to head home," Kevin said.

"Thanks, though," Renee added. "It was really a wonderful party. Sorry I was such a lightweight."

"Not at all," Jean said. "I'm glad you had a good time. Maybe we can do it again, sometime."

"Not likely," Kevin said under his breath. Renee gave him a scolding tug on his arm.

"I'd like that," Renee finished as they walked out the door.

Michael pulled up with Linda a few minutes later. She looked like she hadn't slept all night.

As soon as she was inside, Linda stripped naked out of Michael's hoodie and sweatpants and slipped into one of Jean's ridiculously fluffy bathrobes.

"Coffee?" Linda pleaded with Jean.

"Absolutely," Jean smiled, handing Linda a cup.

"Is Brian up, yet?" Linda asked.

"I was just about to check on him," Jean said.

"I bet you were," Linda said, smiling into her cup.

Linda looked at me a smiled.

I smiled back, and then gave her a full-on kiss on the mouth. Our tongues met and I tasted come mixed with coffee. It was the first time I had ever tasted something like that, but it wouldn't be the last.

"Good morning?" I asked.

"Oh yeah," Linda said. "I'll tell you about it, later."

"Should we get going, babe?" Ron asked me.

"Sure, dear," I said, and then gave Jean and Linda good-bye hugs.

Linda would later tell me that the taxi driver had been the same large man that had his way with us in the video booth a few weeks prior. I thought he said his name was Benny, but Linda referred to him as Lenny. Whatever.

He was huge in just about every way. Not particularly good looking, but he had a rough, sexy, and street smart demeanor that immediately made most women wet, myself included.

Following that little encounter, Linda set me up with a collection of butt plugs ranging in size of an egg, an avocado, and something even bigger. Each one had a tapered handle to keep them from getting stuck inside me, and the necks to those handles also got thicker as the sizes went up. It was Ron's idea to buy a sparkly metal butt plug months ago, and I ended up "wearing" it a few times out to the video booths with him. It was on the small side compared to what I had finally graduated to, but I thought it looked pretty. So did anyone that was lucky enough to see it.

The collection of butt toys became a regular part of a weekly routine where I would work on stretching my little butt hole, but also maintain decent control of my sphincter while doing daily activities. Before long, I could keep the larger of the toys in place while going to the grocery store, taking the kids to school, shopping for clothes, and even working out a the gym. Thanks to the one larger-than-avocado butt plug, my experience with Kevin actually went really well. Tight, but only stretching - no tearing. No damage at all, as far as I could tell. And, everything went back to normal within a day.

Linda didn't have much to say on the ride home with her husband after the party, but Brian asked her for a divorce that afternoon. Not because she had been unfaithful to him, but because he had been unfaithful to her. He thought her unfaithfulness was his fault, and while it turned him on to know she had fucked other men, he was also conflicted over it, and he wasn't sure how to process that lifestyle going forward. It was certainly unexpected, but she took her time with her answer.

A few days later, she recommended they take a break from "that lifestyle" which included him fucking the daughters and wives of his business partners overseas, and take things back to basics. Just him and just her.

Michael was upset about that at first, but he eventually understood and got over it. Jean might have helped. Mom or not, her blowjobs always had a way of making everything better.

Benny - or Lenny - still fucked Linda whenever he wanted, though, unbeknownst to Brian.

The taxi driver had taken Linda back to her house the morning after the office party, and fucked her for almost two hours straight in her bed. Her husband's bed. Benny was gone by the time Michael arrived to make sure she was okay and return her back to Jean's place.

Linda knew Michael really wanted to fuck her before bringing her back, but she said "no."

That was something she never did with Michael. Linda fucked harder and longer than any woman he knew, and always had room for more - especially when it came to him, but he also knew what they shared wouldn't last forever. She was finally over him and all of his little get-togethers with his college friends.

She had moved on... to the taxi driver.

A week after the party, I bumped into Michael at Jean's place. I was retrieving an article of clothing Ron had misplaced, and Michael was visiting from college for the weekend, again.

Jean had stepped out shortly after I arrived, probably thinking I was there to fuck her son, but I really had no idea he would be there. And, I was discovering that as hunky as the college boys were, I was developing a taste for older, more mature gentlemen.

I didn't indicate the desire to get fucked, and Michael didn't offer. It actually seemed like a normal interaction, which for us, was awkward.

Then, Michael told me about the gangbangs he had previously arranged for Linda, and asked if I'd be interested in taking her place. News like that is very distracting, and my clit swelled so quickly, I almost forgot what I was doing there.

I explained that my situation was different with kids, not having had my tubes tied, and not wanting to get pregnant. I wasn't sure I wasn't already pregnant since several of the men came inside me the weekend before. I wondered how I was going to explain to my mom and dad about having a baby that didn't look like Ron. Luckily, I didn't have to wonder very long. At the time, I just told Michael I'd think about it.

Aunt Flow arrived on time, though, and didn't wear out her welcome.

I went on the pill soon after, even though my OBGYN seemed to think my chances of getting pregnant again were almost none. That was based on normal circumstances, though; sex one or two times a week. When I told her I thought it might become about three times that, she wrote the prescription, and congratulated me on keeping that flame burning. If she only knew.

Once I told Jean that I was on the pill, she told Michael, and Michael shared the news with Terry. The next thing I knew, Michael and Terry were asking me to go on "dates" with some of their shy friends to help them gain confidence with women. I knew what they were really up to; they were practically running an escort service, but no money would be exchanged - as far as I knew.

I had to admit, I was intrigued.

Terry planned to set me up with his black college friends, but I imagined they would be anything but shy. Not all of the dates would end in sex, and he promised that if it got to that point, they would use condoms. Mostly, because he would ask them to, but also because they would probably think I was actually a prostitute. Michael's cover story was that I was a friend of a friend from another college just looking to meet new people. According to Terry, I still looked age-appropriate to be taken out to dinner, or dancing, or fucking in the back seat of their car, a 4-hour nap motel, or a frat house common area. Just hearing him talk about me like that made me wet.

Michael eventually decided to set me up with older gentlemen, as I had told him my preferences were evolving. I didn't know how he knew them, but he said they would all either have wives or ex-wives, be in their fifties or sixties, and would expect sex as part of the date.

The boys even helped create a whole different persona to take the place of "I'm a mother-of-two, thirty-something housewife with a recently discovered wild side" conversation. If I could see that there wasn't an attraction, though, they gave me enough material that I could become very boring very quickly, no matter how hot they thought I looked.

It seemed Terry and Michael thought of everything.

Ron was going to assume I was fucking Kevin. I wished.

That certainly would have kept things simple.

I think Ron would have almost preferred that, as it might turn into better job security for him.

I listened in the drive-thru line at Starbucks while Michael finalized the details.

At least once a week, Terry or Michael planned on calling me, and then mommy would have to run some errands. If the kids were home, I'd put my "work clothes" in a large purse and give Ron a kiss goodbye. If the kids were at my parent's house when I got the call, I'd dress for success and let Ron get a good look before heading out the door.

That's what Michael came up with.

That was the plan.

"So, what do you think?" Michael said. "You game?"

I paused for a moment, running everything through my head. I felt warm all over considering the idea of fucking any number of strangers. I really needed to rub my swollen clit. My imagination was running wild and I wanted to get out of the Starbucks line and into a booth of the closest adult video store as quickly as possible.

I was practically panting when I said, "Let's do it."

Linda had warned me about not letting the anticipation become more exciting than the actual event, or I might end up disappointed. Her advice didn't help.

I decided to risk becoming a walking mosaic of freckles and visited a tanning booth. While my C-section scar was barely noticeable, it was practically invisible when I had a perfectly placed bikini tan line. I also knew that if I had nice, small white triangles on my nice, small tits, it would be easier to see that I wasn't wearing a bra when wearing a sheer top... just in case the gold barbell nipple piercings weren't enough to give it away.

Even though I worked out, I didn't want to lose any more weight or develop veiny "guy" muscles. It was a difficult balance to maintain, and I envied Linda for having such a smooth, toned body from doing little more than sex and yoga.

The first call came sooner than expected, less than a month after the office party.

It was an early Wednesday afternoon, and I had to tell Terry I was unavailable. I didn't have a sitter for my six year-old, Ron was still at work, and my parents were on the other side of town looking at garden supplies.

"Maybe later?" I asked.

"No problem, Abby," Terry said happily. "If you're having second thoughts, I get it."

"No, it's not that," I said. "You have no idea how wet my pussy is just thinking about it, but I just can't get away right now."

Terry seemed to believe me.

The second call came the next day, but it was for a Friday night "date," and it was with one of Michael's acquaintances. Much more doable.

"I think I can make that," I said, wondering how I would make that.

Ron would be home. I just wasn't sure running errands at night would be convincing. My kids tell my parents everything.

"How late can you stay out?" Michael asked.

"I don't know," I said. "How long do I need to stay out?"

"Maybe overnight," Michael said.

"I can't be running errands all night, Michael," I said. "We have to do better than that."

"Yeah, I guess you're right," Michael admitted. "It probably needs to be something you can use more than once, too."

My clit throbbed. Was I going to do this more than once? Of course I was.

"Uh, yeah... okay," I said softly.

"I'll figure something out," Michael said. "In the meantime, let's go over what you're gonna wear."

I didn't have an outfit that remotely came close to what Michael had in mind. He assumed that the outfit I wore to the office party was part of my regular "adventurous" attire, but it was actually just a costume with a few parts missing. Sports bras that never got a challenge, and yoga pants that did were my daily outfit. I had nice clothes for church, and a few outfits for the occasional video booth date night with Ron, but that was it.

I gave him my sizes and he said he would call me back.

Two hours later, Michael called and told me where to find my clothes for the evening - at one of my regularly frequented adult video and novelty establishments. Paper bag behind the counter. Change clothes in a booth. I could put my regular clothes in the same bag after I changed.

I'd drive myself to the adult video and book store, and Michael would pick me up an hour later. He'd get a call when it was time for me to get a ride back to the porn shop to get my car. As for where I'd be as a cover story... 'helping someone with a thing.'

"Seriously?" I asked. "That's all you could come up with?"

"If you don't like it, maybe ask Ron to come up with something," Michael said, half-jokingly.

"Ask my husband to come up with a cover story for my family so I can go have sex with a stranger?" I asked.

"Sure," Michael said. "Why not?"

There was a long pause. I really didn't know what to do. Maybe it was a bad idea. Maybe I wasn't cut out for this. I couldn't believe Linda had managed to be such a slut for so long without anyone finding out. I had my fun, and Ron still found time to take me to adult book and video stores to let other men ogle at me, so maybe that was enough.

"I'll pick you up tomorrow at 6pm," Michael said, and then hung up.

Ron came home with the kids and groceries an hour later. I kissed him hello, and took care of the kids while he put the groceries away and settled in for the night.

While starting on dinner, he came up behind me and gave me a hug and kiss on the neck.

"What was that for?" I asked, not that I didn't like it.

"Oh, just glad to be home," Ron said. "Thinking about what kind of trouble we can get into this weekend."

"What?" I asked, forgetting that my parents wanted to take the kids to the zoo over the weekend.

"We're dropping the kids off at your parent's tomorrow afternoon, right?" Ron asked.

"Uh, yeah... about that," I said. "I think I might be having a girl night out tomorrow night."

"Don't you mean girls?" Ron said, stressing the plural.

"Ummm, no," I said sweetly. "I'm going out, but you can say it was a girls night out, if you want."

"How long will you be out?" Ron asked, dreading my answer.

"All night, I suppose," I said, turning and bringing his arms around me tighter. "Don't worry, Ron. I'll still come home to you and tell you all about it. You're still my number one guy, okay?"

I knew he was okay with it from the bulge in his pants.

"Besides, that's tomorrow night," I said. "Tonight, I'm yours."

After we put the kids to bed, we watched a little TV, snuggled, and I gave him a great warm-up blowjob. He didn't know the warm-up wasn't in preparation for another one with him. I let him fuck me and pretended to enjoy it, but my mind was elsewhere. Luckily, after he came he was one and done, and passed out after a quick shower. He didn't even ask me to take out the large butt plug, or ask me if that was in preparation for my upcoming "date." He just assumed, and accepted, which was probably for the best.

I took a little longer in the bathroom, painting my nails, plucking whatever hairs the laser treatment missed, and giving myself an enema. I'd do another the next day, but this was just part of a routine I had started weeks before the office party.

I slept in, and when I woke up, the house was empty. Ron had already left with the kids, and I had hair to curl, make-up to apply, and work-out clothes to put on - but I had all day to do it. I fixed a healthy salad, drank more water than I needed to, and went back to sleep. My ringing cellphone woke me up.

"Hey, where are you?" I asked.

"Dropped off the kids at your parent's and headed back to the office for a bit," Ron said. "When are you leaving?"

"In a few hours," I said.

"Can I ask where you're going?" Ron asked.

"You can ask," I started. "I would tell you if I knew, but I won't know until I get there. Blind date."

There was a long pause.

"Do you need anything?" Ron asked.

Another long pause.

"No, I think I'm good, dear," I said.

"Okay, well... I love you," Ron said.

"I love you, too," I said, and ended the call.

Another enema, another shower, hair curling, a little make-up, perfume, yoga pants, t-shirt, and flip-slops, and I was out the door.

My Honda mom-mobile looked out of place in the adult novelty and book store parking lot, but Michael assured me that it would be safe. Ron and I had been to the same place almost a dozen times before, and never had a problem.

The large man sitting behind the counter motioned for me to look behind the register and pointed at a large paper bag on the floor. He gave me a cup of tokens.

"Booth three is open. Change in there," the large man said. "I cleaned it a little while ago, so it should still be okay."

"Thanks," I said, smiling politely, and wondered just how much Michael had told him or anyone else.

The booth was clean enough, and I quickly latched the door and stripped out of my yoga pants, sports bra, and stretched out t-shirt. I kept the flip-flops on until I knew what kind of shoes Michael had picked out.

"High-heeled sandals," I said. "Of course." Size six was a half-size too big, but I thought I could wear them without twisting an ankle.

I pulled out the small bundle of fabric and tried to figure out how it was supposed to be worn. The front and back appeared identical, held together by crisscrossed spaghetti strings on the sides. I guessed the knots were at the bottom and the larger loops were the shoulder straps.

G-string panties.

No bra. I'd get to show off those white triangles.

I held the dress fabric up to the illuminated TV screen.

"Not exactly see-through, but still pretty thin material," I said to myself, ignoring the fingers poking through the glory holes on either side of the booth. "At least it stretches nicely."

The G-string seemed like a waste of time. The tiny triangle did little more than cover my clit and an inch of my slit. I put it on, anyway.

I quickly found the shoulder straps of the dress to be too short, as they pulled the top of the dress to just below my armpits, and the bottom of the dress about an inch above my bald pussy.

"That can't be right," I said.

I pulled my arms out of the loops, and pulled the dress down to where I thought it should be. I've had dresses where the loops were meant for hanging the dress on a hanger, but I was pretty sure these were supposed to go over my shoulders.

There had to be a way to fix it.

I untied the knots at the bottom of the dress and pulled them up and out of the side holes a few inches up. I retied the knots, tugged on the adjusted shoulder straps, and had the dress perfectly placed to cover just enough of my small tits while covering just enough of my nice, round butt.

The laced gap between the front and back halves of the dress was about four inches wide on each side, letting everyone know I wasn't wearing a bra and only the skimpiest of panties. But now, with the bottom few inches of the already-too-short dress opened like a side slit, I wondered how often everyone would see the tiny G-string trying to cover my hairless pussy when I walked, or my shiny, little butt plug whenever I bent over.

"This should make for an interesting date," I thought.

I put my clothes and flip flops in the bag, tucked my small purse under my arm, and bent over to kiss the head of a cock poking through one of the glory holes.

"Maybe next time," I whispered to the familiar sight.