Barbarella

My heat sank again. "How many?"

She shrugged her shoulders helplessly. "I don't know - a lot."

"Why?"

My wife extracted her hand from underneath mine then sat back looking at me with sincerity. "I did not tell you the truth about my early life - I didn't lie but I left a lot unsaid.

Note. It has been proved that excessive female promiscuity can often be traced back to sexual under age abuse, early puberty or both. Unfortunately the guidelines of this site make such material unacceptable so the mid part of the paragraph has been removed.

They only had to ask - and they always did. I sometimes think that every man that I have ever met finished up fucking me."

She paused, asking for another cigarette with her eyes. With one lit up she continued. "I would do it with anybody once - some of the most surprising people can make you feel really good. If I did like doing it with them or if they had a nice prick, I would open my legs for them any time that they wanted a shag. Anyway, when I first started going with you, you were just another boy to me so I still put out for everybody but after about three months I knew you were special and started saying 'No'. I still screwed with what you could call my regulars - I mean, if I had already done it with them and enjoyed it, I could see no harm in doing it again. When you proposed it changed everything, I stopped them all except Rory. I would have stopped him too but my body needed him. He's like a drug. At one point I almost called off the wedding because I didn't think I could manage without his big cock inside me from time to time. But then I realised that I loved you so much that I would rather force myself to do without him than risk losing you."

Tears were running down her cheeks unchecked. "I've lost you anyway," she sobbed.

I reached out and held her to me until the heaving of her body subsided. "One thing that I don't understand," I said. "If you did it with any man so easily, why did you make me wait six months?"

"I didn't make you wait - you never asked."

"You mean that I only had to ask - even that first time that I walked you home?"

"When you were walking me home, I didn't think you were my type but I expected to go to bed with you, if only as a reward for catching me and stopping my dress getting dirty. You could have fucked me then but if you had we would not be here now - for what that's worth."

This puzzled me. "I don't think I understand."

"Stuart, you were the first man who didn't expect it. The first one to treat me as a person instead of just a body. I began to realise that you were also generous, kind and understanding. That's when I began to fall in love with you. You have not got a lot between your legs and you haven't much idea what to do with it but that doesn't matter because the men who are good in bed are often the most unpleasant ones around. I decided that I wanted to exchange physical pleasure for happiness and contentment with you."

Her words were a double-edged complement. I would happily admit that I was no stud but I had no idea that she found me such a washout in the sex department. "So you don't enjoy being in bed with me at all?"

"I didn't say that darling - I love being in bed with you. I love being cuddled and caressed, I love just being held in your arms. Most men can't be bothered with any of that - the most I can look forward to is a quick hard grope before they poke me."

The next moment she was in my arms and we were kissing as if our lives depended upon it. Inevitably I pushed her backward onto the bed and the wedding dress got rucked up round her waist for the second time that day. It was fantastic, I couldn't stop and Babs had a large orgasm - it was the first one that I was convinced had not been faked. I think I was aware that a larger penis than mine had been inside her recently but this did not depress me - in fact I'm sure that it only served to increase my ardour. Afterwards I lay sweating and panting by her side and we held hands. When my breathing had almost returned to normal I asked, "Where are your nickers. The absence of this hindrance had been welcome minutes before now I wondered why I had not encountered the garment.

The was quite a long pause before Babs said, "They are in my handbag - I used them to dry myself after........"

Before she stopped speaking, despite the fact that we had barely stopped making love, my prick was again as stiff as a poker and I threw myself upon her as if I had not had sex for a year. This time lasted longer, although no less frenetic, and my wife's body again reacted in unmistakable fashion to my endeavours. With passion spent we tidied ourselves and returned downstairs straight away to avoid further temptation. For the rest of the evening we circulated amongst both sections of guests with our arms around each other. A lot of this time I had an uncomfortable stiffness in my pants at the knowledge of how naked she was beneath the dress.

We screwed another three times during the night and then back home to collect our honeymoon luggage we could not resist a noisy hump on the cottage bed. After one of these sessions Babs lay back contentedly and said, "I think that I have seriously underrated your ability in bed - I have never known you like this."

Our flight was delayed for well over two hours and by the time we arrived at our honeymoon destination we were both too tired to think of sex. The trouble was that even when we had settled into the relaxed holiday routine, I failed to regain impetus - it was almost as if I had fucked myself out during that glorious twenty-four hour period. I reverted to the gentle kind of loving that she had said she liked so much but I could not help feeling that Babs was a trifle disappointed.

We had rather splashed out on the honeymoon. My parents had given us a decent sum of money as a wedding present. I would have used it to either buy new furniture for the cottage or put in the bank and I rather think that had been my parent's intention as well but Babs wanted to spend it on a honeymoon, pointing out that she had never been abroad before. I resisted initially but when she said she would like to start our married life with two weeks alone with me and away from everyone she had ever known, I quickly capitulated.

Ours was one of eight chalets arranged round a circular pool with a bar cum coffee bar in the 12 o'clock position. In the centre was the pool, round the edge a lounging area, then a circle of shrubbery and outside that the chalets. So you see we were one of eight couples and I am afraid that Babs must have ruined the fortnight for the other seven wives. There was topless bathing on the nearby beach but round the pool a full costume was required. Babs complied but it made little difference. I have described her figure so can you imagine her in the briefest of brief bikinis, the thong between her legs was little wider than a shoelace and from the opposite side of the pool she appeared to be completely naked. So seven male spouses of assorted ages spent fourteen days with their tongues hanging out.

Babs also made another conquest. This was Pierre, one of our three, poolside waiters. They each worked a six hour shift but whenever Pierre was on duty we were assured of top class service. The other holiday makers would shout, "Pierre, Pierre, I've been calling you for five minutes" but Babs had to do little more than lift an eyebrow to have him before us eager to take an order. He would stand there literally trembling, writing blindly on his pad with eyes fixed either on her breasts or between her legs. He was a nice lad no more than nineteen and going off his beardless face, possibly a year younger. But he was a strapping youth, well muscled and with a glorious golden tan shown off by his 'uniform' of very tiny shorts.

Towards the end of the first week when our favourite waiter was unusually at the opposite end of the pool, Babs said casually, "I like Pierre."

"I do too," I said. "He certainly gives us exceptional service. I think that he is more than a bit crazy about you."

"It's not all one way either," she said.

I thought nothing of this because several times my wife had pointed out attractive girls to me and asked 'Do you fancy her?' "Yes," I said thoughtfully, "I suppose that he is rather good looking."

"It's not his looks I'm talking about but what he's got in those shorts - I get all hot imagining what is causing that bulge."

"I hadn't noticed," I said.

Babs laughed. "Come on, you must have done. It looks as if he's got a melon in there."

Early in the week I had observed that he did seem a bit misshapen in front and naively assumed that, without pockets, he had a purse or wallet stuffed down there to hold his tips. Now that I thought about it, his bulge always did seem larger when he was at our end of the pool and this was probably not due to perspective. If that bulge was in fact caused by his sexual organ then the size must certainly be impressive. "You fancy him just because of the size of his cock?"

"And how," she enthused. "When he stands there taking our order, I get all wet just looking at it."

"Supposing that you were here alone?"

"I'd pick him up bodily and run into the chalet to have my way with him despite his protests." she said teasingly.

"I don't think he would protest too loudly."

"Neither do I," Babs agreed with a grin.

"You'd really like to do it with him?"

"Honey - if I was not married to you, I would fuck him like a shot."

"You still can," I said and the words surprised me as much as they did her.

"What did you say," she asked gazing at me wide eyed in shock.

"If you want to let him fuck you, you can. I don't mind," I repeated slowly.

"I don't understand."

I did not understand either but as I struggled for a reply, the truth came to me. The sexual urgency and way I felt on our wedding night had been a direct result of seeing her with Rory and I wanted to recreate that situation in a controlled way. When I spoke my reasoning was different. "All the men before I knew you don't count and I can forgive the cheating since because you have not vowed yourself to me. With Rory after the wedding ceremony was different - that was infidelity. But it is only infidelity in if you didn't have my permission and I want to give my permission for what you did retrospectively. This could be just words but if I give permission for you to go with another man now, that would validate the previous occasion."

Babs gave me a long serious look but then her eyes began to sparkle mischievously and she grinned. "So how are we going to do it then?"

"I don't know yet - get us a couple of drinks while I think."

Instantly Pierre was standing before us with Babs licking her lips hungrily, her eyes fixed on his groin. As an independent observer it amused me to note that both were staring obsessively at each others sexual parts, oblivious of the gaze of the other. When we each had a fresh drink in hand my wife said, "Well - are you going to clear off and leave the coast clear for me to seduce him?"

"Something like that," I said. "But I am only going to pretend to have left - I want to watch you."

That stopped her and she looked at mw quizzically. "It's the object of the exercise," I explained. "I keep getting the picture of you with Rory in front of my eyes and I need to see you with another man to obliterate it."

OK - it was madness but many of you would think me mad to have forgiven Babs at all or married her. We discussed my plan, made a few small adjustments and when the time was right, put it into operation. Raising my voice I said, "We have done nothing except lounge around the pool all week when there is so much to see. You promised to go to the ruins with me this afternoon - what has made you change your mind?"

On cue Babs replied in a very bored tone, "It's far too hot. In fact it's even too hot for the pool - I'm going to have a long siesta in the chalet this afternoon."

Jumping to my feet I shouted, "Do what the hell you like - I'm still going to see the bloody ruins," and so saying I grabbed my jacket and stormed off. I did not storm very far. Once out of sight I cut round behind the chalets until I came to the rear of our own. Earlier I had nipped back to the chalet, opened the bathroom window and left a dining chair below it. Now I used the chair as a step onto the windowsill and once inside, reached out to pull the chair through after me. I then dragged the dressing table to a position where the large mirror would give anyone in the bathroom a perfect view of the bed. I had barely finished my preparations when the sound of the door opening caused me to duck back out of sight. There was initial disappointment at finding my wife had entered alone but she grinned and made a 'thumbs up' sign to where she knew I was hiding. Then she disappeared from view, I heard the suitcase and soon after saw her reflected in the mirror, posing with three chiffon scarves strategically tucked into he bikini top.

A matter of moments later there was a knock on the door. When opened, I heard Pierre saying hesitantly, "I heard that you were alone this afternoon Senora. I am actually off duty now but I wondered if there was anything that I can do for you."

"I'm sure there is," Babs purred. "Perhaps you would like to step inside."

I had an imperfect view of what happened next so some of the following is deduction. Once inside he made an immediate grab for her but Babs evaded his grasp and, pulling one of the chiffon scarves loose, began to do and abbreviated version of 'The dance of the seven veils.'

He entered into the spirit of the thing and very soon she had the scarf tied round one of his wrists. This procedure was then repeated with a second scarf. Next she allowed him to grab her tits and once his hands were engaged on a task that they would not easily relinquish, Babs used the third scarf to blindfold him.

Now with him willingly almost helpless, by rubbing against him and occasionally squeezing between his legs, Babs urged the youth backward until he was lying on his back in the centre of the bed. With my wife straddling his prone body and following some whispered promises, he eagerly allowed his wrists to be secured to the posts at the top of the bed. At this point, with the first stage complete, she skipped off the far side of the bed and beckoned for me to emerge from hiding and join her.

I quietly advanced to the side of the bed and stood looking down. You may expect that by now I would be highly exited at the prospect of my wife having sex with another man in front of me. I suppose that in part that must have been true but my main emotion at that moment was one of humour, of having fun - that this was all a game with the impending sexuality just one element of it.

Pierre lay spread-eagled and blindfold, his body already twitching with anticipation. Babs crouched with her breasts brushing his arm and whispered hotly in his ear, "I'm going to make you feel so good," immediately fulfilling the promise by tweaking one of his nipples, almost painfully hard between her thumb and forefinger. His body jerked as if from electricity causing her to giggle with satisfaction. Grinning she signalled that I should duplicate her act. I had intended only to watch but I playfully complied, lightly brushed his as yet unmolested nipple lightly with my finger. The reaction to my touch was even more extreme and I swear that but for the tethers at his wrists, Pierre's whole body must have leapt a foot off the bed. It was hilarious.

Moving lower, Babs used her tongue to trace tantalising circles round his naval, causing our victim to squirm, moan softly and move his loins in an involuntary thrusting motion. Her fingers then moved slowly upwards from his knee stopping just short of his groin but still his body arched until resting only on shoulders and feet. When he subsided, obeying orders but having trouble suppressing my mirth, I replicated her action and was rewarded with exactly the same reaction. We were now at the crux of the matter.

My wanton wife now leaned forward until her lips were just lightly touching the cloth on the front of his shorts, then she breathed out slowly so that his private parts were bathed in the warm air from her lungs. This was simple distraction for the real object of the exercise had been to unbutton his shorts unnoticed. With all in readiness for the grand unveiling we, (my wife and I), grabbed a leg hole of his shorts each and in one co-ordinated movement, whipped them clear if his legs. Freed from all restraint, his magnificent penis sprang up rigid in all its full rampant glory.

I actually took a step back. Possibly at some time I might have seen more meat in one lump but if so it was on a butchers slab. It was unbelievable. Glancing up I saw the same look of disbelief on Babs' face but then she grinned happily and rolled her eyes at me in silent appreciation. There seemed to be almost nervousness as she reached out to grasp it but then, after giving a long sigh, she moved her hand with growing confidence, slowly up and down the shaft several times. It came as a shock when she removed her hand and indicated that it was my turn. With more trepidation than I showed, I reached out and arched my fingers round just below the head. It was burning hot and rock hard. My own cock has a degree of flexibility even when fully erect but I could almost have believed this one to be carved from wood were it not for the myriad tiny vibrations which seemed to pulsate through it. Duty done, I thankfully removed my hand and surreptitiously rubbed the palm down the side of my trousers as I stepped away.

It was now Babs show and she went to town on that exceptional cock. She licked round and round the crown and up and down his shaft, she put the head inside her mouth, she squeezed it, she stroked it, she slavered over it and all the time there were more moans emanating from her throat that from the tormented youth on the bed. Eventually she stood up, took a much-needed breath and held out her hand as if to say, 'He's all yours'.

Now I had gone along with the game so far but the thought of another mans penis in my mouth was anathema to me, so I shook my head defiantly. My wife's eyes narrowed in warning and she leaned as if to remove the covering from Pierre's eyes. The threat was clear - either I complied with her wishes or she would reveal me as complicit in the assault.

Not feeling able to call her bluff, I grasped that gross male member again and leaned forward - but then I cheated. Advancing my head until it effectively blocked her view, I mimed a minimal amount of Phallic stimulation without my lips ever coming into contact with that oversized muscle.

Babs was eager to take over again and she had a new trick. During my 'shift' she had removed her bikini top and now she slid his well lubricated prick up and down the valley between her gorgeous tits. This continued with undiminished enthusiasm until our captive Spanish waiter was in a state of ecstasy. Writhing and straining at his bonds he pleaded almost incoherently, "Now, Please now. Release me Senora - let me fuck you. Now. Please , please , please."

Knowing that the time was right, Babs moved to the bottom of the bed and deftly removed her lower garment. Then she grinned at me and posed for an instant, on tip-toe, one hand in the air, the other slightly behind her in the traditional nymph style. She looked so very desirable, I could have borne her to the ground and fucked her right there - but I managed restraint because I knew my time would come.

She started hitching up the bed with her legs straddling his intending to hump him in the position considered by film makers to be aesthetically pleasing. There was a snag - or rather two snags. The first was akin to cramming a quart into a pint pot - his fat throbbing dong was too wide to go inside her twat easily. His other dimension also caused a problem - it was so long, Babs had difficulty raising herself high enough off the bed to get on top of it. Like a true gentleman, I stepped forward to offer my arm and with that as purchase, she raised herself high enough to wriggle until, inch by inch, he went inside her.