Fucking at the Nudist Camp

Young Peter was a busboy at Bud's Restaurant where my wife and I both worked, and all the waitresses were gaga over the twenty year old new busboy. He stood six foot two and weighed about 220, had long blond hair and deep blue eyes. He seemed rather shy, but his confidence also seemed to be growing. Even my wife seemed smitten by young sexy Peter, so one night as we were fucking I asked her straight out if she was also taken by the new, twenty year old busboy. As I was pushing into her I said, "You got the hots for the young new busboy, too? You want to fuck the hunky new hire?" Shyly, she smiled and blushed, pushing her hips to meet mine, keeping up the pace, then after a short pause, she nodded with a grin.

"I guess so," she said.

"So what, I can expect you to fuck young Peter one of these days?" I asked. I could tell by the amount of pink in her cheeks that the answer was certainly "yes." "So what if I told you," I said as I continued to push into her, "that I wouldn't mind?" I said. "What if I said it was okay if he fucked you after work some night?" She turned away and I could tell by her silence that she was thinking about young, sexy Peter.

"What if I told you it already had happened?" she asked seriously, turning to face me.

"Really?" I said. "It'd be surprised, but I'd be okay with that. So, have you?"

She looked at me for a good thirty seconds and a wide grin spread across her face. "So you're okay with it?" she said, kissing me on the cheek. I wasn't speechless, but I pulled her against me and chuckled.

"Really?" I said. "You've sneaked off and fucked the busboy?"

"Twice," she said with that same coy smile. "Remember when you went hunting for the weekend with the guys? Well, I bagged myself a busboy on that weekend you were hunting. I invited Peter over here while you were gone. He came... and well, we did it."

"For two days?" I said. "He stayed for two days?" She nodded and smiled coquettishly.

"Until just before you got back," she said with the same grin. "He fucked me in nearly every room in the house. It was fucking wonderful," she said with a sexy laugh. "I met him at the door, naked, and we didn't were nude for nearly two days. He fucked my pussy on the couch, the bed, standing in the kitchen, and once in the bathroom in the shower.. I figured you would be all right with it, so I asked him to come over while you were gone. I sucked him and he ate me, and we had a real sex-filled weekend while you were trying to kill those little birds. I hope you don't mind, but I figured you'd say it was okay since you let me fuck Doug and Bob."

I wasn't shocked, but for nearly two minutes I just looked at her, imagining her sucking Peter's cock in my home while I was out hunting doves. The thought actually gave me a bit of a charge. My shy little wife fucking another man from work. "So the busboy fucked my wife while I was out shooting little birds," I said, a smile filling my face. I couldn't stop thinking about it, running it through my mind and picturing them at it in our bed.

"And eating her pussy and having his cock sucked. It really was a good weekend," she said with a sexy laugh. "I couldn't have had better."

"Well, I guess not," I said. "You said twice?"

"He was also here when you went to Mexico for three days," she said with the same broad smile.

"And you fucked for three days?"

"Two. He had to leave after two days and two nights of fucking. But we made up for missing one day by going at it for about five hours straight," she admitted with that sexy smile. "He ate me at the kitchen counter," she said thinking back over her weekend. "I stood looking out the window watching the neighbors, and while I was he ate me as I stood with my legs apart at the sink."

"Any of the girls at the restaurant know about you and Peter?" I asked.

"Only Joy," she said with a grin. "I told her after the first time. I asked how she reacted and Carol said Joy thought she was a lucky wife. "She said she wished Bob was a broadminded as you."

"But he did ask me to fuck her, remember?" I reminded her, recalling his earlier request for me to take Joy to bed.

"That was a one time thing," she said, "but you backed out and brought her right home that night and interrupted us."

"While you were in her bed fucking her husband," I said

"But it did turn out all right," she reminded me. "You ended up in bed with Joy. the next night."

"But she was pretty stiff," I said.

"So was he," she said with a chuckle and a naughty grin.

"So the busboy might be servicing the entire restaurant," I said.

"Most would like that," she said with a giggle. "Especially Molly. I think she's the horniest for him.""

"Really? Shy Molly?" I said with an incredulous shrug. "She must be hotter than she seems."

"Oh yeah. She would fuck him in a heart beat," my wife said. "In her car in the parking lot, in the back room, maybe right in the restaurant. It's the shy, quiet ones you never know about," she added. "I've seen her eyeing him night after night with lust in her eyes."

"And how would Karl be with that?" I asked, referring to her husband who was a cop.

"I think he'd probably want to shoot him with his big gun if he found out," she said.

"What about Kathy?" I asked, referring to the oldest waitress there.

"Oh, Kathy'd fuck him on her break," Claire said, "Holding a tray in one hand and a cigarette in the other, with her panties around her ankles and her dress pulled up while she turned in an order."

"You plan anymore busboy weekends?" I asked placing a kiss on her cheek.

"You plan anymore hunting trips?" she asked with a sly smile.

"That could be arranged," I said putting my arms around her and pulling her close to me on the bed. She wiggled herself against me and groaned.

Two weeks later I was driving my new truck to the plains above Los Angeles with three friends for a quail hunt over the weekend. As I drove I thought about Carol inviting the busboy into our bed again for the two days I'd be gone, picturing in my mind what they would be about to do. I imagined him sliding his big young cock into her from above and repeatedly forcing himself deep into her eager pussy as she spread her knees wide for him on our bed, wrapping her legs around his waist, pulling him tight against her dripping pussy. Driving down I-5 I pictured them kissing at the door, undressing one another eagerly and stumbling toward the bedroom, leaving clothes in their wake.

I envisioned him pushing his mouth against my wife's splayed pussy as she stretched beneath him on the bed and arched upward towards his chin, then thought of him forcing his tongue between her moistening labia, curling that tongue up towards her G-spot, searching for her little rough patch. I saw her arch her back and thrilled at the thought of her coming time after time as he ate her pussy and sent her into spasms of pleasure while I was away. I am not sure why it excited me so, but I can't deny it did and I thought about it the whole time I was gone.

They were ravenous in my daydream and I was sure I could hear her screams of pleasure as they made love on our bed or at the kitchen sink. I pictured him fucking her in our kitchen, as she had described to me when she first told me about their affair. I imagined him squatting down behind her and eating her ass and pussy as she spread her legs wide for him while she stood at the counter.

I visualized her taking him into her mouth and sucking him to orgasm, taking the streams of ejaculations into her mouth each time he came, drinking him eagerly down, smiling, swallowing his every spurt, licking her lips wantonly as she did. I saw them kiss after she drank his semen and shared his come with him as their lips moved together and their tongues united. She sucked on his tongue and swallowed his semen, smiling wantonly as she gulped down every drop of the busboy's come.

When I got home I found her sitting at the table, a big satisfied smile on her face, a cup of coffee in front of her, and a well-fucked contented-woman look about her. "Well, did he come?"

"Many times," she replied with a grin. "In me, on me, and down my happy throat. You would have been proud of me," she said. "Some day would you like to watch him fuck your wife?"

"I sure would," I said gleefully.

"I told him I thought you would," she said, leaning in to kiss me. "Can you taste him on my lips?" she asked.

"When did he leave?" I asked as I nodded that I could still taste him.

"About ten minutes ago," she said. "We must have fucked twenty times," she said joyfully. "He even fucked me on the kitchen table."

"Oo nice. That gives me a great thing to think about during dinner," I said. Over the next few weeks all I could think about was Claire fucking Allen while I was on my hunting trips. I thought about everything they might do together, picturing each thing in great detail, going over in my mind what sexual things he probably had done to her.

Over the next few weeks Peter did fuck Joy, and Kathy, and Molly was the one he did in the storage room on a stack of cans. By the end of the summer he had fucked all the waitresses except for Claire, she was newly married and a bit of a church lady. It got so the girls would come to work with broad smiles and they would grin at each other, knowing which one had recently been with Peter. Joy's husband Bob found out his wife had fucked the busboy and he came to me and asked if Carol had ever been with Peter.

"Why, my wife was his first," I said. "She fucked him while we were all hunting last June. I kind of think of it as a work-place morale booster kind of thing. The girls all seem pretty happy these days, work is getting done, people are getting along real well, so I say, 'Thanks to Peter.'"

Bob said he had to agree, that Joy was enjoying work, walking around with a big smile on her face, and her mood was really good these days, so Why not? It was the kind of thing you couldn't predict, but the benefits of the waitresses all fucking the new busboy certainly seemed worth it. I'm not sure, but even the cop might have found it rewarding.

I've been on hunting trips now about one time a month, and I spend much of the trip thinking about what Carol is doing with the busboy in our bed, or at the kitchen sink. The mental picture of her standing at the counter, naked, with her legs spread wide and Peter kneeling behind her with either his tongue deep inside of her or his cock inserted in her luscious, wet pussy, gives me a smile that lasts the whole trip

Finally, last month, I got to watch, and I'm telling you it was really something. He undressed her at the foot of our bed, then he ran his hands all over her body. For a young dude, he really seems to know how to fuck. He had her moaning and groaning and tossing herself around the bed with a talented tongue and a larger than average cock he seemed to know what to do with. I watched excitedly as Peter fucked her with expertise that seemed to have grown from fucking all the other women in the restaurant. He was bigger than me by far, and a whole lot thicker, and used it well, pushing it into her pussy so fast I could hardly see it. She was wild, thrashing around as he fucked her, bucking and calling out his name as he pushed into her bringing her to orgasm after orgasm. I loved seeing it and she certainly loved getting it.

She looked over at me with pleasure and gratefulness in her eyes. She blew a kiss at me as she bucked her hips up to his, wrapping her legs around his waist and pulling him to her. It certainly was better than a hunting trip any old time. I absolutely loved watching my wife getting fucked by the busboy.

In one quick motion he deftly flipped her over and went at her from behind. I wasn't sure if he was going into her pussy or her bottom, but whichever it was she was really enjoying it and cooing and groaning appreciatively. It was a sight I will never forget, and I watched him fuck her for nearly an hour, then I let myself out of the bedroom and left them alone for the night. I owed it to her, and I did not want to inhibit them in anyway. She was loving being fucked by the busboy and I wanted her to have the screwing she desired, the fucking she hoped for, and the pussy eating she deserved.

When I returned in the morning his car was gone and she was sitting with a broad smile on her face in the kitchen and a cup of coffee in front of her.

"So he has moved on?" I said.

"Yep. I think he's going over to Kathy's place," she said with a smile. "He may just do the whole restaurant one pussy at a time," she added with a naughty grin. I smiled and bent down and gave her a kiss.

"How was your weekend?" I asked.

"Really special," she said pulling me in for another kiss.