Retirement

I woke up early Wednesday to play golf, my first time with the local Men's League. I had just tipped the bag drop guy for putting my bag on the cart when I checked my partner's name—Frank Sturgis. Great! I was paired with Frank. I went in to pay and turned to the range for a warm up when I met Frank at the cart. "Hi, Bob hope you don't mind, but I asked for you to be on my team this morning. I wanted a chance to talk. In fact, I was wondering if you'd like a little informal bet. How about...winner gets to fuck the loser's wife?"

"You never give up, do you, Frank? I'm not going to bet because even though I enjoyed Janet immensely Saturday night I have no intention of repeating. I've never played this course, but I'm sure I'll beat you. So, here's my bet--$100 on the round--net scores to count unless you'd like to make it bigger—500? A grand?"

"Jeez, are you always so competitive?"

"Yeah, I am. That's how I rose to the top of my profession. That's how I earned more than five million dollars a year—year after year. What did you do for a living?"

"Uh, not much—my dad owned a big furniture manufacturing plant. They made furniture for a bunch of companies like Thomasville and Bassett. Dad died when I was in college and I sold it. I couldn't run it and stay in school, could I?" I shook my head in disbelief. Frank was the arch-typical spoiled brat.

"So I guess it's no bet, eh?" I grabbed a few clubs and walked to the range for my warm up. We were on the first tee forty-five minutes later. Frank teed off first, hitting a long drive that sliced badly on a hole that was a dogleg left. His tee shot landed more 200 yards from the green. I hit a three metal along the left side of the fairway, drawing the ball left around a pond. I was about 125 yards from the hole. Frank's second shot was well struck, but it sliced again, landing in a greenside bunker. My second landed past the hole and spun back within ten feet. I wound up with a par—a four; Frank with a double bogey six. Even with his handicap applied I was a stroke ahead—my four to his net five.

The next hole was also a dogleg left. His tee shot again sliced, mine was struck solidly about 265 yards, landing in the middle of the fairway as I cut the dogleg. We couldn't find Frank's ball. It appeared to be lost in a water hazard so he had to take a penalty stroke. Another double bogey for him and a par for me put me two strokes up after two holes.

I had a typical round for me, shooting a 78, net 73 when my five stroke handicap was included. Frank shot a 99—better than I thought--net 79; he lost to me by six. It was no contest—exactly as I had thought. "Good thing we didn't bet, Frank. I'd be fucking Janet tonight while you watched. I may not have the equipment you have, but I've never had any complaints. I'd never make a bet like that. I view my wife with respect, not as a piece of meat. See you...maybe next week." I drove away chuckling. Frank was a genuine sap.

I played again on Friday with some of the neighbors and had a great time, returning home around three in the afternoon. Sandra was waiting for me, an evil grin on her face. I had a pretty good idea what that meant—she was going to tease me. "Take your shower, Robert and lie on the bed. I'll be there in a few minutes. It's going to be a long weekend for you." I kissed her, but she turned her head. "No cheating; you'll get your reward Sunday night—not a second before. Now go!" I showered quickly, anticipating an exciting time with my wife.

Once showered and dried I lay on the bed while Sandra secured me into place using some very familiar leather wrist and ankle cuffs and some ropes around the corner posts of the bed. Sandra spent the next hour or so lightly running her fingers up and down my cock and around the head. It was more than enough to get me excited and keep me there, but I'd never cum from this kind of treatment. After that hour she licked my poor cock slowly and lightly. Again, there was no way I'd cum, but my cock was ready to explode. It was harder than hard. Sandra alternated between my cock and my balls, even taking my sensitive testicles into her mouth and sucking, but she was an expert; she could read me like a favorite book. Any time I got too close she'd just back off and let me cool down.

She got off the bed around 6:30. "I need to get you ready. We're going out for dinner and I know I can't trust you not to...so I'm locking you up while we're out. Of course, you can count on being teased in the restaurant." She kissed me and moved to her closet, returning with my nemesis, a custom cock cage from Mature Metal. Seconds later an ice pack had shrunk my manhood; it was secured and the key was around her neck. I dressed slowly and we drove into Asheville for dinner. I spent an hour seated next to Sandra while she ran her hand up and down my thigh and across my crotch. Of course, she couldn't touch my cock, but I'd always found my balls to be unusually accessible while in this cage. They were brought up and forward where she could easily fondle them and frustrate me.

We were back home around ten and I was directed back to the bedroom where I was again tied into place naked on the bed and spread-eagled. This time Sandra took two vibrating eggs, fastening one to the underside of my cock with friction tape, the stuff the doctor uses on my arm when I have to give a sample of my blood. The other egg was fastened between my balls. "Now, Robert, I have some things to do so I'm going to leave you alone for a while. However...I don't want you to be distracted from what's going on with your lovely cock and balls. So, I've prepared a few things for you to help you concentrate on your situation. She pushed some foam plugs into my ears. Most sounds were deadened, but I could still hear. A silk scarf was tied around my mouth and head. I could still speak, but barely. I wasn't prepared for what followed—a heavy leather hood. Sandra lifted my head and pulled it down, covering my eyes, ears, and mouth. She made sure the nose holes were in place and I could breathe before zipping the hood tightly around my head. I was completely cut off.

Sandra was chuckling as she left, walking directly to the front door where her guest awaited her. Taking his hand she led Frank to the bedroom doorway. "Holy shit," he whispered, "It's really true."

"There's no reason to whisper, Frank. He can't hear a thing. I know—I tried it myself several times. Even if he could there's nothing he could do. He's tied in securely. Come on, we don't have all night." She turned and led him back down the hall to another bedroom where she stripped and pulled the blanket from the bed. She knelt in front of Frank and opened his slacks and pulled out his huge organ. "I know I'll never get this monster into my mouth, but I can get it ready."

"Don't worry about that, baby—I'm already hot for you." He ripped his shirt over his head and stepped out of his slacks. He pushed Sandra back onto the bed and climbed between her legs pleased to see how wet she was even without a single touch to her pussy. Frank wasn't big on foreplay; he rubbed his cock into her once or twice and rammed home, stopping only when he had bottomed out against her cervix. Sandra hurt, but she was also so excited and thrilled to have her cunt stretched so thoroughly—so completely. She had felt so filled only once before—on the evening of their swinging. She rose to meet Frank's every thrust. Their coupling was brief. Frank hadn't had any sex since their last time together. Janet was pissed at him, blaming Frank for blowing their chance with Bob and Sandra. Well, fuck her, Frank thought. He would have his cake and eat it, fucking Sandra when Bob played golf or while he was being teased. They had already made arrangements to fuck again tomorrow and on Sunday, too.

Frank blew—filling Sandra's cunt with his sperm—oh, shit! They'd forgotten to use a condom. Luckily, Sandra was due for her period in three days. However, she couldn't forget again. Robert would surely see and feel cum leaking down her thigh. Frank leaned heavily on Sandra. The sex hadn't been as spectacular as the first time, but she did cum—twice, which wasn't bad. Tomorrow, after Frank had cum tonight would be even better. Yes, she thought--yes indeed.

CHAPTER 4

I was relieved when Sandra returned to free me. Her hair was wet so she had obviously showered while I was going crazy with lust. She locked me up again and shooed me to the bathroom. I was thrilled she had come back when she had. I needed to pee—badly. I was just out of the shower and drying myself off when Sandra continued her teasing—rubbing my ball sac and fingering my asshole. Laughing wildly she kissed my cheek and called me to bed. "You'd better get a good night's sleep. You have a long day tomorrow." She kissed me again and rolled over to sleep.

Sandra was right—Saturday was brutal. After breakfast she tied me into the bed again and teased me with a feather and later with a silk scarf, wrapping its smooth folds around my struggling cock. She ran it up and down, driving me wild, but giving me no friction and, obviously, no orgasm. She did take mercy on me briefly, wiping and washing my face. Sweat was running into my eyes completely blurring my vision and burning my eyes. After lunch which she fed me in the bed she brought out the ear plugs, gag, and hood. I cringed when I saw the rope. I knew what was coming next and it wasn't me.

She doubled the rope and wound it around my waist, pulling the two ends through the loop and bringing them down my ass crack to my crotch. Next she lubed and pushed a thick vibrator into my ass and pulled the rope between my legs, one rope running on either side of my throbbing genitals, and up again to be tied tightly to the rope in front of my waist. Now I had incredible prostate stimulation and no way to expel the cause. Finally, she tied a thin cord around and under my helmet, pulling my cock up over my abdomen, tying again to the waist rope. It wasn't long before my belly was covered in pre-cum. The ear plugs, scarf gag, and leather hood finished the job. I was stuck in my own world of torment.

Once Robert was safely secured Sandra walked again to the front door, admitting Frank to their home. This time Frank walked straight to the other bedroom where Sandra had made the necessary preparations. Frank lay on the bed while Sandra straddled his hips. Slowly she descended, filling her cunt with Frank's massive cock meat. Again she bottomed out, punishing her cervix, but not caring—the pain would just remind her of the pleasure she'd had fucking Frank's huge organ. She controlled the pace to maximize HER pleasure, much to the annoyance of her partner. She experienced three orgasms by the time Frank spurted, this time into a thin Magnum condom which barely was able to stretch around his organ.

Sandra continually came up with new torments for me. However, I was surprised that she did not require me to eat her to orgasm after orgasm as she had in the past. By the time she released me on Sunday evening I was desperate to cum and, as in the past, Sandra did not disappoint. Still tied down she mounted me and rode me to an incredible orgasm. The first time I blew in less than three minutes, depositing what felt like a gallon of cum in her cunt. An hour later I lasted much longer, but the result was the same. I lost control as I spurted over and over into Sandra. I was beat—totally exhausted once the orgasm had subsided. I fell asleep almost immediately.

I recovered from my ordeal over Monday and Tuesday, Sandra making sure I got plenty of hot sex as my reward for enduring the weekend's rigors. I was sexually drained by the time we went to bed Tuesday night. Wednesday morning I was up early again for the Men's League. I looked around for Frank and was surprised that he wasn't playing. I had another good round, shooting a 77. I stayed long enough to have a burger and a beer before heading home, the winner of the low gross and low net scores, each of which was worth a grand total of $10. I clearly wasn't playing for the money.

I was a bit surprised to find Sandra coming out of the shower when I arrived. "Take your shower, Robert. I'm feeling a bit randy this afternoon." I rushed the shower, taking enough time to thoroughly clean my cock and balls before joining her in the bedroom, but barely enough time to do much with the rest of my body. Sandra was waiting for me, lounging on the bed and wagging her finger, calling me to her, when I entered the room. I joined her quickly, engaging her in a long and passionate kiss. She flipped me over onto my back and literally sat on my face, encouraging me to lick her tasty slit. I was surprised at the taste—there wasn't much, at least nothing in comparison to what I'd tasted in the past. She must have done a really good job in the shower. I had no other explanation.

Sandra was breathing heavily when she slid down my body to impale herself on my cock. I was more than ready to fuck my wonderful wife. I knew at that moment that I'd do anything for her—that's how much I loved her. She bottomed out on my cock and began to rock as I reached up to gently massage her full breasts and tease her nipples and areolas. Sandra leaned down to kiss me as her clit was pounding into my abdomen. I pushed my thumb down my body finding her hard clit in just a second. A quick rub and twist was all it took for her to cum, but I was surprised that it wasn't more intense. I kept thrusting into her until I felt the rumble in my groin. I lifted her up from the bed every time as I deposited my hot slick semen into her vault six times. We collapsed together into the bed, sweaty but satisfied.

I tried to play golf again on Friday, but had to stop after the third hole due to a nearby thunderstorm. All the golfers were called back to the clubhouse where I picked up a rain check and drove home. I was soaked by the time I got into my car. Water dripped from my clothes as I entered the house. Sandra seemed overly surprised to see me, coming as she was from the small third bedroom. "Robert, you startled me! I wasn't expecting you, but I guess the storm canceled your plans. Good God, you're soaking wet. Get into the bathroom now and strip off those clothes. I'll be in to help you in a minute."

I slogged down the hall and into our bedroom where I dripped my way to the bathroom. My clothes were in a soggy pile when Sandra joined me a few minutes later. She dried my body with a fluffy towel until I was warm and dry, spending a lot of time on my head and hair. Once dry, she brought the laundry basket from the utility room and threw my clothes into the washer. I dressed in some sweats—I was still chilled from the storm—and made a cup of coffee in our single cup machine. I was reading the newspaper when Sandra sat next to me. "You know," I began, "I haven't seen Frank since last week. I thought he always played in the Men's League, but he didn't on Wednesday. I hope he's okay. I really don't care for him, but I don't wish him ill."

"Oh, I'm sure he's okay...probably just some pressing business." That started me thinking—what kind of business would Frank have? I didn't think he had any since college when he had sold his father's factory. Oh well, maybe he had investments he had to manage.

We managed to complete the unpacking within the next week—at last! I suggested we plan a trip. We loved Hawaii and had been talking about taking an extended trip to China, Japan, and Australia. To my surprise Sandra said she wasn't all that interested, at least not now, but she did say she'd be interested in teasing me the following weekend. I turned her down; I was still recovering from our last session. Sandra was disappointed and made a point of telling me so.

We did take a day trip to the Biltmore, buying several cases of their wine. We agreed to build a large wine rack and place it in the home office where we had our computer, a desk, and the files I used to store and manage our extensive investments. Luckily, I found a suitable system at a local store that specialized in home storage. We had more than a hundred bottles shortly thereafter.

For reasons I couldn't fathom Sandra began to lose interest in sex. I didn't know if it might be the onset of menopause or some other physical reason. Prior to retiring we'd made love four to five times a week, even into our fifties. We never watched TV—we fucked instead. Now that we were retired with all the time in the world we were down to one or two times a week. I had no explanation, but I got one three weeks later.

CHAPTER 5

I returned from golf with the Men's League on a Wednesday afternoon to find a brief note on the refrigerator—"Robert, see letter on the bed."

I saw the envelope with Sandra's handwriting on it—"Robert—Important." Sitting on the bed I opened and began to read. It was shocking—I was dumbstruck by what I read:

"Robert, you know what a coward I can be. I'm afraid of needles, spiders, and God knows what else. That's why I'm writing this letter. I can't tell you this personally—I know I'm not strong enough-- and there's no easy way to write it either, so I going to come right out and tell you up front. I've left you. I couldn't let go of Frank and his big cock after our night of swinging. We've been cheating on you every time you played golf. I thought you would catch us that Friday you came home early because of the rain. Fortunately, I was able to get you into the bedroom so I could sneak Frank out the door.

"I don't know if I love Frank, but I do know that I am addicted to his cock. I've had so many orgasms over the past six weeks that I've lost count. I've taken my clothes, jewelry, all the cash in our bank accounts (sorry, but I'm sure you will survive until you receive your next paycheck) and my passport. We will have left the country by the time you have read this letter. Please don't try to follow us. I won't be coming back. Sandra"

I sat forward, my head in my hands, and I was sure I would have broken down had the doorbell not rung. Janet was on the porch, her eyes red from crying. "Why couldn't you have just gone along with everything? None of this would have happened if we kept up with the swinging. This is all your fault!"

I stood back to invite her in and led her to the couch; I sat beside her and listened silently. Eventually, I spoke. I was angry, but tried to be calm. "Janet, we both know that none of this is my fault. I'm not responsible for your husband's lack of morals or because my wife is obviously a bigger slut than I ever imagined. Now, what are you going to do? Can you stay in the house? Do you have enough money?"

"Stay in the house? You've got to be kidding. Everything Frank owns is mortgaged to the hilt. The mortgage payments are more than $3000 a month and we have no money. No, I'm going to live with my sister if I can only raise the fare to get there then I'll find some way to divorce the bastard." I asked her how much she would need and wrote a check from my personal account--one Sandra wasn't able to touch.

"I like you, Janet...I really do. I'm sorry all this happened. It wasn't my fault, but it wasn't yours either. I hope things work out for you." I hugged her and she walked down the steps. She was crying again before she had reached the street. I closed the door and returned to the couch. I broke down and bawled like a baby. I could see everything clearly now—the "need" to tease me so frequently, the decrease in her sex drive, why Frank didn't show up for the Men's League, even her attitude and behavior on that rain and lightning filled Friday. I felt like shit. I'd been betrayed by the one I trusted most.

I wanted to be alone—alone to deal with my grief, my anger, and my disgust. I canceled out of my Friday foursome and next Wednesday's Men's League. I cried a lot—more than a lot—as I wallowed in self-pity. I was in a funk for more than a week when I decided that I wouldn't allow Sandra and especially not Frank to beat me. It was late Thursday afternoon when I decided I wanted to play golf again. I called the pro shop and asked if they could get me out as a single on Friday morning.