tagLoving WivesHi, I'm Joe

Hi, I'm Joe


Hi. I'm Joe. I am a lying, cheating bastard. How do I know? My girlfriend told me so. I mean my ex-girlfriend told me so. I don't know how she gets off calling me a bastard. My parents were married. And cheating? Well, it's not cheating if you are not married is it? Lying? Well, that part is a little bit true. This is my story; when I am done telling it you will probably want to call me a lying, cheating bastard, too.

The circumstances that led to her calling me a lying, cheating bastard started when Irene, my now ex-girlfriend, brought home another woman for me to fuck.

What, you ask, was she doing bringing another woman home? I wasn't supposed to really fuck her, and I didn't – at least that day I didn't. It seems that Irene and her buddy, A, J, schemed to fake some pictures to email to A. J.'s husband. A. J., by the way, is a nickname. I think her real name is one of those two part things. You know, AliceJo, or AliciaJane, or AppleJuice, or something.

I donno what the deal was, but I got the impression that A. J. wanted to punish her husband or something. It was a stupid idea. Pictures like that could lead to all sorts of trouble. Turns out I was right. A. J. and Mark were in divorce lawyer offices less than a week after the picture taking.

Anyway, Irene called me one night to ask if I would do a favor for one of her friends. "Joe, would you pose for a picture?" She explained what was needed.

"That's the silliest thing I have heard of," I commented, "but, sure, I will do it."

Irene arrived. I thought my heart was going to quit pounding and my lungs were going to quit expanding and contracting. With Irene was the most knock-'em dead sexy woman of the decade. Her buttoned shirt appeared to be a size too small for those breasts that were trying to push their way through the white fabric. Experience tells me that I was looking at B cups maybe even C. The shirt was neatly tucked into a short black skirt that barely covered the upper thighs. I admire women's legs. I know good looking legs. I rate these as a ten. High heels completed my sight-seeing tour of A. J.'s body.

"I will get my camera," said Irene.

The idea was to make it look like we were making love. Irene put a sheet over our bottom parts because below the waist we would be fully clothed and not really fucking. I don't know how you would react, but I got a boner when A. J. hiked up her skirt and spread those legs.

I like to fuck, and I like to fuck a variety of women. I made up my mind that I was going to fuck A. J. I couldn't do it right then because my girlfriend made it clear that this was a pretend session. Well, guess what, folks? It took months, but I did finally fuck A. J.

Hi. I'm Joe. I am a lying, cheating bastard. How do I know? My girlfriend told me so when she caught me with A. J. Anderson. I will tell you about that, but first an introduction is in order.

Hi. I'm Joe. Someday I will be called Taekwondo Joe, and I will run a martial arts place called Taekwondo Joe's Academy. Right now I am an instructor at Red River Taekwondo and Karate. Mostly I work with the younger students. Eight-year-old kids are the oldest that I teach. Other instructors work with the older ones. Actually, the age I have is just perfect because of the mothers. Ah, ha, the mothers – the loving wives. Most of them are in their thirties. Most of them still have their youthful figures. Probably all of them are married. Married is good for someone like me. Married women are not looking for long-term relationships. Some, however, wouldn't mind occasional romps in the hay with a younger, fit-bodied hunk.

Not to brag (not much anyway), but I often am considered to be a fit-bodied hunk. It takes a lot of work-out to be fit enough for taekwondo. How can I write this without sounding too much like a braggart? I can't. I have a great body. My arms and legs are lean and my muscles are well toned. My midriff is what some call a six-pack. And if I may blow my horn a bit more – I pack my pants well, too, if you know what I mean. That's an attribute that appeals to some women.

A gentleman doesn't tell, but in the three years I have worked at Red River Taekwondo and Karate I have scored with a dozen of the mothers of my students.

Irene, my girlfriend, I mean my ex-girlfriend, was not one those mothers. I met her at across the Red River at Moorhead State University. I was actually a North Dakota State University student in Fargo, but MSU had a health class I needed for my goal of a Physical Education degree. That degree is a backup in case the Taekwondo plans don't work out. Irene was taking the same class. NDSU, MSU, and Concordia have Tri-College arrangement where they honor each other's class credits.

Oh, sorry folks, I am digressing. Never mind all those details about how Irene and I became a couple. Here's a brief summary. After class Irene and I would walk together across campus to our cars. Often we would take a side trip to get some coffee and donuts. For the longest time I considered her a friend, and not a prospective conquest. She was, after all, not a married woman just looking for on-the-side fun. Irene was more of a prospective long term relationship. It was, you know, the type of relationship I wanted to avoid. I tried real hard to keep my hands to myself, but Irene tagged along with me one time when I needed to stop at my apartment. We were in my room barely a minute when Irene grabbed by pants front and struggled to unzip my pants. Bong! You-know-what popped up. It was hard enough to crack diamonds. Soon two naked people were on my bed, and my more than eight inches was deep in Irene's pussy. I know, I know, you think I am bragging about my size. Actually when my sister measured me (yes, my sister, but that's another story) when I was eighteen she said it was eight and a half inches.

Irene and I became boyfriend/girlfriend about six months before the A. J. thing came about. Irene was my girlfriend and regular sex partner, and I didn't fuck anyone else during that time. Well, except for that one time with a friend of one of my Taekwondo mothers – one of those loving wives who craved some extramarital action. Apparently they had talked about 'my package' and she wanted to try it out for herself. So, other than that one time Irene was my regular gal. Now instead of getting lucky once every couple of weeks I had a steady diet of daily sex. It was friends with benefits, or at least I thought so.

That fake fuck session with A. J. reawakened my need for more sex on the side. You know, of course, it is not cheating if you are not married. Irene didn't see it that way though.

Irene and A. J. worked at the same place. Apparently A.J. was deeply upset about her husband, Mark, cheating on her. She told Irene about it, and they came up with the plan. As I said before, I don't know how taking pictures of her having sex – real or pretend – was going to help their marriage. What I do know is I got an incredible erection while in the screwing position with A. J. Oh, I already mentioned that, didn't I?

There's something about my body that appeals to women. Maybe it's that thing that fills the front of my pants. I haven't needed to even use "a line" to get into women's panties. They usually came to me. I seldom have had to work for a fuck. I seldom even had to seek out a woman for fun. A. J. stirred something within me; I felt the need to seduce her. I was going after her!

Anyway, I was extremely excited after the fake fuck with A. J. Methinks, Irene knew it, too.

As soon as A. J. left my apartment Irene attacked me with her body. Not since that first time with Irene did I see anyone get undressed as quickly as she did.

"Take your sweatpants off, Joe, and hurry. I need you inside me," she said. I followed her orders. Soon I was naked and not just the waist down, I pulled her panties down her legs and kissed her slit. I licked it, and I sucked on it. She was soaking wet by now, and I was as hard as a tombstone. I pushed into her. There was a little bit of resistance at first, but then I was inside of her. I waited. She opened her eyes and wrinkled her brow."Come on, big guy, do me," she said. "I need it. It's been a few days." I began sawing in and out of her taking my time. In five short minutes she began buckling up towards me meeting my thrusts. Little grunts and squeals came from deep inside of her, as she came, stiffening and excreting her feminine fluids. I filled her vagina with what seemed a gallon of cum and collapsed on top of her breathing heavily.

My body was with Irene, but my mind was with A. J. and how I could get into her panties. I like women's panties, and I enjoy getting into them. Married women are best because they don't want to get involved in a long term relationship. As of that time A. J. was still married, so I considered her fair game.

You would think that I, an experienced pussy hound, would know how to go about seducing a woman. Truth is I haven't had to do much seduction. The women come to me, or so it seems. My first real live genuine cock in pussy fuck was a few weeks after I turned eighteen. Believe it or not, but my older sister, Mary, arranged it. Mary told me that brothers and sisters don't fuck each other, but she wanted me to have a good time. It seems that Sis had told friends she saw me coming out of the shower and that I was well endowed. One of the friends just had to find out and experience it for herself.

One evening while our parents were away Mary asked, "Do you want to fuck?"

"You know it, sis, but didn't you say brothers and sisters don't do that?"

"I know, but I have a plan." She got on the phone. After a quick conversation she said, "One fuck coming up."

"Wow, big sister, is that like calling out for pizza? You called out for a fuck?"

It wasn't long before the doorbell rang. It was the 'fuck delivery person.'

"Rachel, this is my brother Joe," said Mary.

"Hello, Joe."

"Joe, this is my horny friend Rachel." Mary continued.

"Hello, Rachel."

"Now," said Mary, "I am going for a walk. When I come back I expect to find that Joe's cock is well satisfied. Don't forget we gotta be done with fun before ten o'clock when the folks get home."

As soon as Mary left Rachel addressed me. "Joe, I usually make a guy wait until the third date before we fuck, but I am feeling horny and need a big cock in me. Mary says she thinks – from what she's glimpsed – that yours is a really big one. Let's go to your room to find out."

"Follow me!"

By the time we got to my room Rachel was naked from the waist up, and she was working on getting her pants off. It didn't take long for my clothes to fall off, too.

"Woo wee!" exclaimed Rachel. "That's a big cock. I want it!"

Any thoughts of being embarrassed about being naked in front of a woman quickly dissipated because that woman was now just as naked. Rachel, on my bed, parted her thighs. I was told that women like to have their pussies licked, so I started putting my mouth down on her.

"No, need for that, this time, Joe. I want that monster from your pants inside me. I am ready," Rachel's husky voice said.

It was, by far, the quickest seduction. I am sure not even five minutes elapsed from the time we were introduced until my cock nestled deep into Rachel's cunt.

That was the beginning of a long series of sex escapades for me. Rachel told others, who told others, and who told others about the equipment in my pants. I know that there are women who don't think size matters. I don't need them. There are plenty of women who do crave cocks big enough to fill their pussies.

So, as you can see when it came time to seduce A. J. I really had little clue.

I called my sister, Mary, to get her advice. As your probably have already guessed, Mary and I were and are very close. We shared and still share secrets with each other. She knows I like women's panties. I know she likes to have her nipples kissed. During our growing up years, during our high school years, during our college years, and beyond Mary and I have told each other just about everything. We have even seen each other naked. No, you pervert, I have never screwed my sister. Brothers and sisters don't do that!

Our phone conversation consisted of the usual trivial catch up on the news stuff at first, but then I blurted, "Mary, I met a woman. I want to get into her panties, but I don't know how to seduce her."

"Joe, or maybe I should ask, 'Is this Joe?' This must be someone else talking to me. The Joe I know has plunged his cock into dozens of pussies and brags to his big sister about it sometimes."

"I know. But, Mary, the women seduced me in most of those so-called conquests. This woman hasn't come after me, and I don't think she ever would." I briefly described the situation.

"Flowers, chocolates, moonlight strolls, dinner, and a listening ear will go far in romance," was Sis's advice.

"I don't want to romance her; I just want to fuck her."

"Well, little brother, some women don't just roll over and spread their legs without some romance first."

I hung up the phone and pondered the situation. Do I crave doing the deed with Irene's friend enough to do some of that hoop jumping? I get regular fucks from Irene, and those so-called loving wives at Red River Taekwondo would ride my bone fast enough. Well, yes! I do want to fuck A. J. That posed position session got me more excited than anything else in the past few months. I need to finish when we started. I mean, I need to do what we pretended.

The first opportunity to wine and dine fell right into my lap. Irene called to say she and A. J. going for some drinks at the Dirty Bird Lounge in Moorhead. Apparently, A. J. needed to talk about her marriage troubles again.

"Hey, Irene, I will join you."

"No, Joe, don't come join us. It's girl talk time."

A. J. must have been listening because Irene said, "OK, Joe, A. J. says it would be OK for you to come. She thinks maybe you could offer a man's viewpoint."

I don't know why the two women were so dressed up. After all, don't they just work in some little cubicles with no one to see and no one to see them while they stared at their computer monitors doing whatever it is they do for their company? Nevertheless, I did appreciate seeing what I saw when I slid into the booth with A. J. and Irene.

Irene's form fitting sweater accented her boobs just right, and how did she get those legs into those pants? They could get a guy to do some heavy breathing. But, but, but Irene's temptress body was in second place to A. J. 'Down boy, down boy' I had to say to myself as you-know-what started to react. A. J's blouse had that 'come unbutton me' look. It was light tan with some white lacy frills on the collar. The shirt was barely holding in those C cups. I had to put my hands in my pockets before they took upon themselves to start undoing buttons.

"Do you wanna tell Joe what you told me?" Irene said to A. J.

"I guess so," she replied. "Today, my husband's lawyer provided proof that he, Mark, did not cheat on me. They showed me how I was mistaken about that. Now the lawyer says that I need to withdraw my divorce petition."

My sister advised to have a listening ear. I listened to A. J.'s story and made the appropriate nods and little sounds. Over the next hour or so I learned a lot about A. J. and her marriage to Mark.

"What do you think I should do?" She finally asked.

"The way I see it," I said, "you really messed up by jumping to the wrong conclusions, but if you want to redeem yourself with Mark the first thing would be to drop the divorce petition."

"I think I will."

"And," I continued, "Beg him for his forgiveness."

Irene wasn't as convinced. She offered, "A. J. I agree with Joe about dropping the divorce, but did you really do anything wrong? Don't ask for forgiveness." We discussed that for quite awhile and Irene finally agreed that A. J. should request – not beg – forgiveness.

Two or three beers later our 'meeting' broke up.

Did I mention that A. J. did drop the divorce proceedings? I did? Oh, did I mention that her husband prompted started his own divorce petition? Seems he accused her of infidelity. He even had 'proof.' He had pictures of what appeared to be some guy screwing A. J

Irene, A. J. and I started a new tradition. The three of us met at the Dirty Bird Lounge once a week. We drank beer and told each other our life stories and life struggles. (I did not mention my sex life, however).

I took some more of my sister's advice – flowers. I brought a flower for each of the women. I started that about a month after our first meeting. Of course, they both said it was so sweet of me. Me, I was just trying to use some romance to get into A. J's crotch.

Once every six weeks or so Irene would skip our Friday night outings because she drove to Minot to visit her parents for the weekend.

"Don't let me ruin the Dirty Bird Lounge experience. You and Joe go ahead and meet and greet. Just remember though: his cock belongs to me." Irene said the first time that she missed our rendezvous.

Needless to say, I, a 'lying, cheating, bastard,' wasted little time stepping my romance and seduction. Dear reader, here is your advance notice. I intend to end my narrative right after I finally fuck A. J. It was, by the way, after the third time Irene left us alone.

Some people really do dance at the Dirty Bird. You can see them doing the two-step or the waltz. Most, however, just go out on the dance floor to snuggle and move around. I invited A. J. to dance. I know how to dance, but I pretended otherwise. The dance floor was a perfect opportunity to hold A. J. close and tight. I think I even let my hard-on push up against her. She didn't resist.

Later I had her tipsy enough to bring her to my apartment. I unbuttoned her blouse.

"No, Joe, we can't do that."

"Why not?"

"I am still married, and Irene is my friend."

"A. J., you are married in name only. You haven't lived with Mark for months, and isn't your divorce final in a couple of weeks?"

"Yes, but Irene..."

I interrupted; "Irene is my friend, too. She's my 'friend with benefits.' We do not have an exclusive relationship," I lied.

I gently removed her blouse, and while kissing her, reached around to unhook the flimsy black bra. Hmmm....are the panties black too? I needed to find out.

A. J. kissed me back as I pressed my eight plus inches of cock against her.

She pulled me over to the couch where she hiked up her skirt. It was just like the time we did that fake fuck all those months ago, except this time she was wearing silky smooth black bikini panties.

Needless to say, my pants simply fell off me. I pressed my cock up against A. J.'s pussy. It felt like my member was pushing its way into her. Two layers fabric separated us from actual fucking. I reached my hand down to push aside her panties. She tugged down my briefs.

Suddenly, the event that I have awaited all these months happened. My erect pole slid its way deep down into her love channel. Bliss!

Hi. I'm Joe. I am a lying, cheating bastard. How do I know? My girlfriend told me so. I mean my ex-girlfriend told me so. I don't know how she gets off calling me a bastard. My parents were married. And cheating? Well, it's not cheating if you are not married is it? Apparently Irene thought we were an exclusive pair. She called on Saturday morning to tell me that I am a lying, cheating bastard. A. J. must have felt guilty because she called Irene to beg for forgiveness for fucking me.

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