My Home Runs

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A wife finds women for her husband to fyck.
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pandsal
pandsal
223 Followers

It was six-thirty on a Tuesday evening and raining. At least another half-hour until we were home. I glanced at Shelley in the passenger seat and asked, "Nervous?"

"A little. Do you do this often?"

There was no real answer to that. We did it when the opportunity arose and that was unpredictable. Shelley was the first for nearly three months. The next one be next week. It would have taken too long to explain and anyway, we just don't.

We are Graham and Heather, and we are not an orthodox couple. It has taken a while to understand what works for us and it wouldn't do for everybody. Many people would be shocked, some would be envious. But it is what makes our marriage work.

Graham is a senior civil servant - not mandarin but on the way and hopeful. I have my own business, an agency providing temporary office staff. It's the only career I've known. After university I did a business course and then my father set me up with premises and a plan. For five years he worked with me, them said I could manage on my own.

It was soon after independence that I met Graham at a cocktail party. That night we ended up in bed together - as it turned out, unprecedented on a first occasion for both of us. It was the beginning of a sensational relationship.

Temporary traffic lights held us up. I cursed to myself. Sensing that Shelley needed reassurance, I said, "You needn't worry. It's exactly as I told you. Graham will only do what you want from him."

"And you? What about you?"

"We'll see. Play it by ear. Whatever, I won't be far away." Always, I liked to stay and watch but not everyone felt comfortable with that. Occasionally I could get a clue when we had our preliminary chat, but not often.

My deal with Graham arose from a pillow conversation one night after sex. I asked him about the Whitehall women when they were away at conferences and seminars: wasn't he ever tempted? Yes, he said, but so far he had been able to resist. I noted the "so far."

I said, "You always say the sex we have is the best there is. I think that's true. So what could anyone else give you that I don't?"

"Nothing probably. Almost certainly.. Only variety, novelty perhaps. I don't know, really."

"Suppose I could solve that for you?"

When I told him, he agreed to give it a go.

Whether my idea would work, I had no idea. But as I drove with Shelley beside me and Graham at home with a hard-on I knew it had. But it had entailed running a huge risk with my business.

The agency was successful for several reasons. One was that I always paid the women on my register as soon as an assignment was complete; if the employer was slow paying me, I would bear it in order keep my women happy.

Another factor was my vetting process. I never took anyone on my books until I had interviewed them personally and explained my requirements in matters of presentation, dress and behaviour.

On the other side, when a new employer approaches me I make a point of interviewing the managing director so I can see the environment I am sending anyone into. At the same time I let him know how I expect them to be treated.

We were almost home when I reminded Shelley there was still time to opt out. "You know you can say no any time you want to."

"Yes, I know," she said. "But I've had several days, haven;t I? And I've prepared the way you recommended." As though instinctively, she smoothed her skirt down along her thighs. She was wearing a formal business suit with a white shirt, a large lilac bow at the throat the only concession to femininity. But I understood that she was referring to what was underneath. Something we had discussed at our last heart-to-heart.

I was acutely aware I was treading a delicate path every time I had an after-hours heart-to-heart with one of the women on my register, but it ad gradually become easier with experience. From time to time I had always invited some of my more qualified women to drop in of an evening for a glass of sherry and a chat.

It was always valuable to know a little about their personal circumstances and how that would relate to their availability. And then one day I took a chance and dropped a vague hint about the advantages of a fulfilled social life. To my astonishment I was asked if I had ever been sexually frustrated. To cut a long story short, she was the first one I took home as a present for Graham.

Now it was Sgelley. As we turned into our drive I said, "Last Chance. We can still turn roud."

Sgelley shook her head. "Not now," she said. "In for a penny, in for a pound."

Perhaps, I thought, in for a pounding. Ii had no idea of her wishes in that respect but that was her wish, Graham had the equipment, the technique and the stamina to oblige.

When I introduced them, she offered her cheek for Graham's respectful peck. An offer of tea or coffee or something stronger was declined politely, so I left them to get to know each other a little. I noticed that Shelley sat with her knees slightly apart, not showing anything but, it seemed to me, signalling an invitation.

Upstairs, I checked the bedroom, shutting off the rainy night outside; we live in an avenue of large detached houses so we are never overlooked, but closed curtains add to an atmosphere of intimacy. I found a CD for the stereo and set the volume on low. Next I laid out tissues, two kinds of gel and condoms on the bedside table. Shelley had told me condoms were unnecessary, but I liked them to be available.

The women who had preceded Shelley had been a mixed bunch. Generally, though, they fell in one of two categories. The singles were often recovering from a failed relationship and missing the sex it had provided. The others were married women bored with infrequent routine sex at home or perhaps none at all. What they had in common was a pressing need. It had been my decision not to even consider anyone under thirty; immature emotions were best avoided.

All this allowed plenty of time for Graham and Shelley to get over their nerves and I was about to join them when they came up the stairs. I stood aside to allow them into the bedroom. Shelley, I noticed, had removed the lilac coloured silk scarf and the top two buttons of her shirt were undone.

Once in the bedroom there was usually a slightly awkward pause to establish who would make the first move. Not this time. Graham asked, "Would you like me to kiss you?"

Interestingly, the married women were usually the ones who declined. Shelley's answer was to put her arms round Graham's neck and turn up her face to his. Realising that my presence or otherwise hadn't been discussed, I took the opportunity to slip into a chair in the corner, hoping to remain unobtrusive.

Graham, who understands that I am always aroused on these occasions, had manoeuvred Shelley so that she had her back to me during this initial clinch. Her tongue was in his mouth, her arms still locked behind his head. For his part, my husband had his hands on Shelley's bottom, pulling her into his groin. Bunching up the material of her skirt, he raised the hem inch by inch.

When the knickers came into view, I suppose I should not have been surprised by their colour. The lilac scarf had not been mere adornment - it was a clue. Shelley was becoming more interesting by the minute.

After a while of sensual groping of buttock cheeks, Graham broke off and suggested they would be better with fewer clothes on. Shelley needed no encouragement. Soon she was a vision in lilac - bra, knickers and stockings. She was quite tall with shoulder-length dark hair, high cheekbones and a full mouth. Standing off a pace, she opened her arms to Graham, who was now naked, in a take-me gesture.

"The gra," he said. "Show me your tits."

The request was understandable. Shelley had told me she was a 38D but hadn't mentioned the dark nipples which now showed every sign of extreme arousal. Graham bent his head and started to lick. Shelley said something very quietly and his hand reached for her bottom.

From my seat in the corner I heard them murmuring to each other through all that followed but I could never catch more than they off word. What was clear was that Shelley wasn't slow in telling Graham what she wanted next. When he led her to the bed and made her bend forward, I could restrain myself no longer. I lifted myself so I could raise my skirt round my waist and slipped my hand inside the waistband of my knickers. I was very wet and was expecting to get wetter.

The next minutes were Graham's idea of heaven, fondling Shelley, caressing the contours, stretching the fabric across a pert, receptive arse with one hand while stroking his rigid cock with the other. Shelley was making approving noises - which increased in volume when she reached behind her and took Graham's hand and pressed it into the space she created by opening her stance wider. My fingers had to slow down. Too much too soon would spoil it for me.

I knew the kickers had to come off, and it was Shelley who took the initiative before rolling on to her back, spreading her legs and pilling Graham's head into her. My husband has a very clever tongue and it soon worked its magic on Shelley's clitoris for I saw her use her hands to ease him away. She didn't want an orgasm yet, it seemed. Nor did I and I was probably as close as Shelley. There had been some steamy sessions in that bedroom but this was shaping up to rival the most memorable.

The first penetration was from behind, Shelley kneeling on the edge of the bed, Graham standing and feeding his cock into her very slowly and carefully. She wanted it all and he gave it to her. When it was fully embedded, he paused. But not for long. This time I clearly heard Shelley say, "Go on. Please. I'm ready."

My husband looked over his shoulder at me. I nodded. He began a steady rhythm of insertion and withdrawal. Shelley started to moan. As Graham began to speed up, giving her deep thrusts, he put one foot on the bed to steady himself and change the angle of entry slightly. At one stage he actually had both feet on the bed, holding on to Shelley's dangling breasts. In for a penny, in for a pounding, I thought.

This was what we had agreed, and it wasn't entirely one sided. My fingering, I knew. would have to be controlled. I would let myself get right to the edge and try to hold it there. Sometimes I would need to stop altogether, let the demand recede and then build it up again. I've said that we are not your average couple but this was what worked for us. Fucking Shelley kept Graham from straying, masturbating while watching excited me. And I would still have Graham myself later.

So the evening went on. Graham and Shelley tried various positions, every time it seemed backing off rom the ultimate conclusion. My fingers did the same.

When the end came it was unexpected. Shelley was on her back, Graham was astride her waist. She said something and he started to slide his cock between her ample tits. Meanwhile, she reached behind him with one hand and began rapidly frigging herself. After all that had gone before, the effect was inevitable. Her hand stopped moving, pressed hard against her mound as her body bucked upwards.

Graham, too, was still. Then she used both hands to press her tits together and into that warm, sweat -moistened valley my husband voided his cum. Taken by surprise, I needed a little longer but the result was hugely satisfactory.

**********************

I was taking Shelley back to her apartment, rain still beating against the windscreen. For a while we drove in silence; The Shelley said, "Can we talk?"

"Pf course."

"I mean, about - about tonight?"

"Of course. Was it good?"

"Oh, much more than just good. Your husb - Graham was so considerate. But you were right about my knickers. Really seemed to get him going."

"Never fails. How about size?"

"It wasn't a problem. Yes,, he's big but he was very careful at first. Not aggressive at all. Well, once or twice but that was because I asked him to. It was exciting.."

"I'm glad. He will have enjoyed it, I know."

"I hope so. Because really, I feel I owe you both n apology."

"Why on earth should you?"

"Well, for a start we said we would talk about you - whether to stay or not. But we never did, and by the time I realised, it was kind of too late. You were - you know."

"Doing what we women do sometimes. Second best, but still good.

No need to apologise."

"But I let Graham down, didm't I? At the end."

I remembered Shelley's contorted body, her hand clasped to her mound, but I said nothing. She was going to tell me, anyway."

The trouble was it was all so good, I didn't want it to end. Not to be all over in fifteen minutes."

"In fact, you made it well past the hour - but I told you Graham had great stamina."

"But that was the trouble. I could tell he could keep going, so whenever I started getting very close, I kind of shut down until I was ready for another surge. And that was fine until I realised was losing it completely. The trouble was I thought Graham wouldn't know what I needed for it to be perfect. So - well, you know, I just did it myself."

"I saw. That was about when I came, too."

"But Graham was left up in the air just as we were about to start something else."

"And you helped him do that."

"Well, yes. He seemed to finish. There was a lot of ..."

"There usually is."

Shelley was silent but I sensed she had more to say. Just as I pulled up at her address, she said, "I need to talk to you about my job."

"Yes?"

Shelley was a receptionist ,intelligent, bright and cheerful, a welcoming face. And the 38D did no harm, either. I was able to put plenty of opportunities her way. Currently she was filling in for an engineering firm while they found a replacement for someone who had left to get married.

"Well, there's a problem. A nice problem, I suppose. They want me to stay full time. And the money's good - thanks to you. But '}

"No buts. You must take it. Under the deal I have, they pay me three months salary because I am losing an asset. And you've ben that. So go with my blessing."

"But then what about tonight? I think you said I could have two more visits."

A total of three was my insistence. I didn't want an attachment to form on either side. But we weren't in that situation.

"Tonight has nothing to do with you and the agency. Just call me when you would like to arrange a date."

Shelley kissed my cheek, stepped out of the car and disappeared. For ever.

After a couple of months with no contact, I called the firm and a strange voice answered. Shelley, I was told, had resigned. Gone away. No one knew why or where.

It was disappointing news to give to Graham that evening. We didn't know then what spectacular consolation would come our way.

(to be continued).

pandsal
pandsal
223 Followers
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AnonymousAnonymousabout 4 years ago
Well....

When do we get the continuation of this story. It is bad form to introduce a subsequent benefit at the end of a story, going so far as to include, "to be continued," but then failling to do so in a timely manner.

This tale was good, but the title does not match the content.

Bret_Harte

AnonymousAnonymousover 10 years ago
Already Commented On, But...

...but the annoyance of he spelling and grammar REALLY detracted from the reading. The sex was also a tad cold and removed. Attention to both these areas could have made this a 5-star submission, rather than a 4.

verbicideverbicideover 10 years ago
I agree with "loving"...

As has been mentioned this was just about a 5 star effort. A touch dry and objective, almost scientific really as if the narrator were an anthropologist instead of the wife. I do think, like many others that it is the psychology that can make or break this type of story. What about watching her husband take another woman excites her? Does she enjoy being part of the conquest? Is it participating in an act that is socially taboo? Does she find the women attractive herself? Does the feeling of displaying such largesse to her husband help with her arousal?

There are so many ways this could go and the fact that this is written without the degradation and humiliation of any of the involved parties makes it such a potentially superior effort. I look forward to the implied coninuation of the story.

Luving2629Luving2629over 10 years ago
Interesting concept

Almost a 5 Star story, needing only some passion, detail and editing. A reverse of the typical cuckold story, well paced, but a relatively passionless description of the meet.

AnonymousAnonymousover 10 years ago
I liked this...

...but I must admit I want more, so much more. I only hope you continue this story. There are very few stories about cuckqueens, anywhere.

Since there is virtually nothing written about the psychology of cuckoldry, maybe you can help us to understand the mindset of a person who does this, what allows someone to share their partner, to cuckold themselves, rather than swing, and not only to share, but to get off on it while watching it or thinking about it. It is so different from the possessiveness that most of us feel toward our partners.

There is a huge group here who decry the male cuckold, thinking him less than a man. It is not uncommon for commenters to suggest that the author of such a story would be better off dead than indulging in such a fantasy.

I think sex is like all human behavior; it exists on a continuum, and while most people are somewhere in the middle, we shouldn't disparage less common behaviors that don't hurt anyone else. Most people now realize homosexuality is no threat to them, and maybe someday in the not too distant future, we will feel the same about cuckoldry. Who knows, maybe people are born cuckolds, as well.

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