Caroline's Scrapbook

My cock was rigid. Her body was hot. She grunted. She shuddered. She squealed and she came. I returned my roving hands to her bottom and held on tightly, my fingers sinking into and kneading the pliable flesh of her behind as she shivered and shook and pounded her pussy against me.

She released a huge sigh of contentment. Her taut muscles relaxed and she slumped against me. "That was nice," she said. I couldn't have agreed more.

***

Mark and Caroline lived in a modern housing estate, one of those red brick developments on the outskirts of most commuter-belt towns where the houses are the size of shoeboxes and have as much character. They'd made an effort to make theirs look nice. The minute front lawn was well mowed and surrounded by flowerbeds, but it was obvious they were onto a loser from the start. Mark pulled up onto the short driveway and we clambered out of the vehicle. Caroline smoothed her dress down to erase its rumpled appearance and gave us both a broad, contented smile. Leading us across to the front entrance, Mark raised the handle on the PVC door and turned his key clockwise in the lock.

Entering the house, it was obvious that it was usually kept clean and tidy. It looked well ordered and well maintained; a warm and friendly dwelling where dust and grime was never allowed to linger for long. The living room was off to the left, the kitchen in front, down the hall, and the stairs to the right. Having not swung with swingers before, I was unsure of what to do or where to go until Caroline took me by the hand and led me into the living room.

The living room had the same beige carpet as the hallway. The walls were a lighter shade of the same colour. A large gilt-framed mirror hung above the fireplace on the far wall, a row of ornaments and photographs below it on the mantelpiece. A pale blue three-piece suite formed an 'L' shape around the fireplace and the corner by the front window, which contained a large flat screen television and DVD collection. In the centre of the horseshoe, on a cream and blue striped woollen rug, a low cushioned coffee table rested on castors. Through an arched doorway opposite the window was the dining room. "Take a seat," she said, "Can I get you a drink? We've whisky, gin, wine or beer?"

"A beer would go down a treat." I said, sinking into the armchair facing the curtained window. Caroline smiled and left the room through the doorway behind me, into the dining room and thence, presumably, into the kitchen. Mark moved over to the settee and plonked himself down in its centre. Stretching out his arms along the cushion tops, Mark eased his shoes off with his toes and thrust his legs out straight before him beneath the coffee table, heels dinting the carpet, the toes of his argyll socks pointing towards the ceiling.

Looking at the photographs on the mantelpiece, I saw they were of the type you usually expect to find in such places: a graduation photograph containing Mark and Caroline both, each wearing mortarboards and holding the fake scrolls they pass out for such occasions; a wedding photo of the pair taken whilst they stood by a lake under dark and lowering clouds; two of a niece and one of an obviously aged Alsatian. Mark pointed at the graduation and wedding photographs. "That's where I met Caroline; we both went to Cardiff Uni. The moment that wedding photo was taken it started pissing it down. I had to pick her up and run indoors. We got soaked."

Caroline came back with two beers and a gin and tonic. Passing me a beer, she sat down next to her husband on the nearside of the sofa. Mark took his beer from her with his left hand; his right moved down off the cushion and around her shoulders as she nestled up to him. I took a swig from the bottle of Spitfire I'd been passed, feeling very mellow from the alcohol I'd been drinking, and very turned on following the activities in the car.

I was wondering how the evening would unfold thenceforward. Would Caroline just ask us to shag her, or what? Not knowing what the usual etiquette for this type of situation was, I took another sip of my drink and waited upon events. I didn't have to wait long. Caroline raised her left leg until she was almost sitting on her heel. Her other leg swivelled out sideways until it rested on the arm of the couch. I recalled her earlier claim of being able to do the splits; I could well believe it. Short dresses are not, of course, designed to be concealing when one's thighs are splayed so widely apart. I had an excellent view all the way up the inside of her right leg to her silk covered crotch, which she began to slowly and lightly stroke, up and down, with the middle finger of her right hand.

Caroline was looking at me looking at her. "Would you like to see more?" she asked, her finger maintaining its slow, teasing movement. I nodded. Taking one last gulp of ale, I put the bottle down on the floor next to my chair. Any more booze, I thought, might have a detrimental affect on my prowess.

I watched as Caroline's left hand slid along her thigh, the tips of her long, slender fingers curling one by one under the gusset of her knickers. She drew the material aside, a deliberate and unhurried action that revealed the shaven splendour of her moist, pink pussy lips. They nestled, smooth, damp and flushed with arousal beneath a closely cropped triangle of dark fur. Caroline's index finger joined the other in its meanderings. Both sank into the hidden depths at the bottom of her slit and then emerged, glistening with moisture, to part the slick folds of flesh and splay her inner lips wide open to my ardent gaze. Her fingers continued moving upwards and rubbed in a brief circle around her clitoral hood. Then they moved down again, one finger stroking along each lip of her outer labia until they converged and disappeared into the depths of her vagina.

"I've shown you mine. Aren't you going to show me yours?" I nodded again and glanced self-consciously at Mark as I undid my belt buckle. His arm around Caroline's shoulders had slipped down until his hand cupped her right breast beneath her dress. The fabric rippled as he squeezed and kneaded her flesh. She leaned her head back, basking in the sensations assaulting her, fingers busy between her thighs.

Unzipping my trousers, I hooked my thumb into the waistband of my briefs and tugged down until my erection sprang out. Grasping it firmly in my other hand, I began a slow, sensuous, up and down movement. Caroline watched with hooded eyes as I pulled and pushed the loose skin over the underlying rigidity. Every down stroke caused my foreskin to stretch and slide off the plum coloured glans beneath. Each upward movement hid it from sight again. I couldn't tell from Mark's expression what he was thinking, but wanking in front of another bloke wasn't making me as uncomfortable as I thought it would.

Suddenly, with a squeak and a shuddering moan, Caroline clamped her thighs together around her furiously frigging fingers and came. With her head lolling, back arched and legs trembling she was, I thought, the most beautiful and erotic image I'd ever seen. I stopped jacking myself abruptly lest I embarrass myself and make a mess. Coming down from her orgasmic high, Caroline opened her eyes fully and looked at me holding my cock. I waggled it playfully and she started laughing, a joyous and unrestrained chortle that sent a shiver of pleasure down my spine. "I think," she said, rising and pulling Mark up with her, "That it's time to take our clothes off."

That was it; no saucy striptease or slow removal of clothing as hands wandered and explored, but a rapid disrobement in a race to see who could get into their birthday suits first. I won. I'd started with an advantage as my trousers and underwear fell to the floor when I stood anyway. Then it was a case of shrugging out of my jacket, unfastening the top two buttons on my shirt and pulling it off over my head. I kicked the clothing puddled around my feet to one side and I was ready, stripped for action, my erection sticking outwards and upwards like the spout on a teapot.

Mark was a close second. He was heavily muscled with broad shoulders, well-defined abdominal muscles and thick, stocky thighs; the physique of a weight lifter. I hadn't realized just how big he was when he was dressed. He made me look puny with my slim limbs and burgeoning belly. I noticed though, with no small amount of satisfaction, that his dick was shorter than mine, even if it was twice the girth. Like Mark himself, it was short but stout. I also noticed that his pubic hair was shaved into a small patch above his penis. His scrotum and the shaft of his cock were completely hairless.

Caroline was a slow third, but well worth the wait. After shrugging out of her bolero jacket she'd had trouble unfastening the zipper on her dress. Finally finishing her contortions with it, she shrugged her shoulders and let the black material fall and pool around her ankles. Her strapless bra quickly followed, her pale, full, carnelian tipped breasts bouncing once when released. My eyes followed her breasts as she stooped to unfasten the stays on her suspender belt, marvelling at the way they changed shape, bobbing and swaying with her movements. Then she pushed her knickers down, pulled them off her ankles and stood, naked except for her stockings and beautiful to behold.

"Oh, bollocks!" she said, "Hang on a minute." I watched in surprise as she turned and padded out into the hallway, bare buttocks bouncing. She hurried up the stairs and then I heard the thumping sound of footsteps in the room above. I looked at Mark and he shrugged, a motion that caused his penis to bobble slightly. My ardour began to flag somewhat, but then I heard Caroline come back down the stairs. She appeared in the doorway, a blue and cream striped blanket, a camera and a crystal glass bowl containing a selection of condoms clutched beneath her breasts. My ardour rose again as I watched her breasts jiggling with every step she took, although I was somewhat concerned about posing for the camera.

Mark saw my expression and laughed. "She likes photos to be taken of her. We'll not take any of you so don't worry." I smiled in relief and then gave Caroline a hand to spread the blanket out over the padded coffee table. I don't really know how else to describe it. It was the right size and shape and occupied the place one usually finds a coffee table, but this one was upholstered in pale blue cotton over padding twelve inches deep. It was as firm as a mattress and, I realized, that's exactly what it was going to be used as.

Caroline sat down on the coffee table between Mark and myself and looked at us expectantly. "Right, who wants to go first?" I glanced at Mark and we both made 'after you' type gestures at the same time. Mark laughed and I pondered briefly on the fantastic nature of our get-together. Here was I, with a pretty dismal track record amongst women, standing naked in a strange man's living room and courteously inviting him to fuck his wife before I did. Caroline settled the dilemma by grabbing my cock and pulling me towards her.

She held my shaft with her hot little hand in a full fisted grip beneath the head. Pulling me close, her breath gusted over my glans as she slowly rolled the foreskin back to scrutinize the plum coloured tip. Holding me tightly, she looked up, a puckish expression on her face. "You know, I owe you for what you did in the pub." Before I could act she ducked her head, catching my little one between sharp white teeth. She didn't bite down hard enough to do any damage, but I yelped in pain and felt the sweat start to spring from the base of my spine. I couldn't pull away without hurting myself, so I stood still as the blood drained rapidly from my member. "But," she said, releasing me and looking up once more, "You made me horny as hell, so I'll forgive you this time and kiss it better."

Again she ducked forward, but this time it was the tight wet noose of her lips that encircled my helmet, not her fierce little incisors. She sucked on it and caressed the underside with her tongue, causing me to gasp in pleasure so intense it was almost unendurable. I reached for and held onto her shoulders to steady myself as she suckled my cock. Within a few seconds it regained its former glory, as stiff and inflexible as I could ever remember it. Caroline dipped further forwards, sliding her lips along my shaft until her nose was buried in my pubic hair and the head of my cock slipped into her throat.

The feeling was incredible. I'd never been deep-throated before. Every time Caroline swallowed the muscles in her oesophagus constricted in a rippling motion along my knob. Then she'd pull back, take a few deep breaths and slither forwards along my shaft once again. On some of the downward plunges, instead of using her throat muscles, her tongue swept out and licked across my testicles. My scrotum shrank in pleasure and my nuts drew up tightly against my torso. I realised that I was about to reach sensory overload and managed to gasp out a warning of my imminent orgasm.

Caroline withdrew from my cock and, taking me in hand once again, began to jack my slick shaft with firm, rapid strokes. She tilted her face up to look at me with an expression of eager anticipation. Then she looked back at my cock, aimed its weeping helmet at her face and closed her eyes. The pace of her jacking became frenetic; her face was flushed a bright pink and her breasts jiggled with the effort she was exerting. I gazed down, enraptured by the picture she presented and then, with a grunt of elation, I came.

Stomach and thigh muscles straining, knees buckling and buttocks clenching, my pelvis thrust forward of its own accord and, like grapeshot from a cannon, an explosion of seminal fluid erupted from my dick and blasted Caroline in the face. She flinched, and then a long pearly arc of semen splattered her from forehead to mouth. The base of my cock throbbed and another gush of cum lashed her from left eye to ear. Again, another spurt landed on her right cheek. Then again, and a shot of cream coloured liquid landed on her lips and slid down to dangle viscously from her chin. Succeeding spasms decreased in intensity; little splashes landing on her breasts and then a slow trickle of semen seeped out of my dick and onto her still jacking fingers.

There was a click and a flash of light. Mark was kneeling at the end of the coffee table with the camera focused on Caroline. "Look this way, darling." Caroline, still holding my wilting penis, turned to face the camera. She smiled and Mark took another photograph. She wiped semen from her eye sockets, opened her eyes and then stuck her tongue out, licking around her lips to gather up my cum. Mark took another shot with the camera, then cast it aside onto the sofa. "That was fucking amazing, darling, he came like a fucking horse."

And I had. Caroline's face and breasts were covered in glistening moisture. A porn star couldn't have performed better, I thought, with immense satisfaction. Caroline licked my sperm from her hand and then sucked me in once again. She slurped up the remnants of my passion and then pushed me gently to one side. "Come on lover," she said to Mark, "I want it, now." I sank back into my chair and reached for my beer, sated and satisfied, as Mark took my place before Caroline.

Caroline lay back of the Coffee table and raised her legs. Mark lifted them, placing one over each of his broad shoulders, and then leaned forward to place a hand either side of her head. He didn't kiss her, but the scent of my semen must have been strong in his nostrils as they stared into each other's eyes from mere inches apart. There was no finesse, no foreplay; Caroline was flushed with excitement and must have been well lubricated from her earlier orgasms. She reached for Mark's dick and placed the head of it at her opening.

He lunged into Caroline in one smooth stroke and she sighed, love writ large upon her features as she gazed adoringly at him. He didn't start out slowly, but began to hammer her in short, hard jabs. Her breasts flattened out across her chest, swaying and undulating with each thrust, the nipples erect and pointing skyward. She stroked his flanks as they rutted, cooing tender endearments. Their breathing became rapid as they shared the sperm scented air between them.

I couldn't see Marks penis from where I sat without leaning sideways. I didn't bother; the sights and sounds were arousing enough as was. I could hear the slurping, squelching noise emanating from Caroline's pussy as Mark ploughed it, the meaty slap as his pelvis hit her backside, and the gasping for breath as both sought to suck in oxygen. Caroline's arse cheeks rippled as each blow from Marks hips sent shockwaves through her flesh. Both were flushed bright red by now. Sweat began to run down Mark's face, little droplets forming and falling to splash into and join the sheen of semen and sweat masking Caroline's own features.

My cock was hard again and I began to stroke it slowly as I watched the sight before me. Caroline had her eyes shut now, her head lolling from side to side. "Yes!" she panted, as Mark thrust into her, "Yes! Yes! Yes!" Mark grabbed a calf muscle in each hand and pushed her legs further back. "More! More! Harder!" Her knees were beside her ears, Caroline's face hidden from view and her pelvis tilted so that Mark was thrusting down into her. "Oh! There! There! Yes!" I could see Marks cock from this angle now. It pounded in and out of her, bruised in colour but slick and gleaming with their shared secretions. Caroline's swollen red inner pussy lips clung to his knob on each out thrust, disappearing back between her outer labia as he shoved home. "Yes! Yes! Yes!" Straggling strands of hair clung to her cheeks, matted and shiny, her cries getting louder as they ascended in scale. "Oh! God! Oh! Yes!" Mark reached the short strokes, his hips moving frenziedly with the imminence of his orgasm.

"There! I'm there!" Caroline screamed and convulsed. Her arms flopped out sideways and she clutched at the blanket, her hands clenching into fists, the material bunching as she grasped at it. Marks frantic pace suddenly ceased. Instead, he groaned, hips jerking erratically, body shuddering as he unleashed his seed deep inside her.

Their muscles relaxed slowly as all the tension left their bodies. Huffing and puffing, their breathing returned to normal. "Fucking A," mumbled Caroline. She started to pet her husband as her contorted body took his weight. "You can get off now, you fat lump. I'm being squashed."

"You weren't complaining a minute ago."

"Because you were being beastly. There's no point talking to an animal in heat. Pervert."

"Slut."

"Yes, but I'm your slut. Now get off before the wind changes and I spend the rest of my life in this position."

"I wouldn't complain."

"Because you're a pervert." Wearily, Mark dismounted and collapsed back onto the sofa, looking like he'd run a marathon, his penis wet and red. Caroline stayed as she was for a moment, her vagina gaping widely, and then she dropped her legs to the floor and lay limp and spent on the table. She looked over at me, beer bottle in one hand, cock in the other, and smiled, "You'll have to wait a bit. I'm bloody knackered."

We rested for a couple of minutes, Caroline flat on her back and Mark and myself slouching on the three-piece suite, all thinking our separate thoughts. After a few minutes silence Caroline sat up and examined herself. My semen had mingled with her sweat and was starting to dry in gooey patches on her face and breasts. Her hair was damp and sticky, matted and gummed. She looked like she'd been ravished, which indeed she had. "I think I need a shower before we do anything else." She stood up, leaving a small puddle of cum and a larger damp patch on the blanket. Cupping a hand beneath her pussy, she headed for the door. Mark slapped her bottom as she passed. "Keep that up and you'll get no more nooky from me tonight," she warned him teasingly.