Sarah's Story Ch. 03

He bit down harder -- it hurt. Oh, that hurt, but it was a good hurt, I didn't pull my shoulder away, I lifted it against his mouth, against his teeth, and felt his penis getting hotter, harder, thicker.

Felt myself getting hotter, too, even more aroused, I knew if he'd touch me he'd find me wet, ready, right now. What was happening, it's as though the pain in my shoulder was connected directly to some sexual part of my brain. . .

I used my other hand to reach for his waistband button, found it, released it, found his fly, unzipped that, while he was biting me, hurting me.

Arousing me.

Getting more erect with the pain he was causing me, his penis's head was so hot, as hot as my shoulder felt, where he was biting it, where I was lifting it hard against his teeth.

Finally, he stopped. He was fully erect. "No woman has ever let me bite her that hard. You'll wear my mark for a long time."

My husband was standing behind me, looking at my shoulder. "Did he hurt you? Do you want to stop?"

"He hurt me a lot, but it was a good hurt. I don't want more of that kind of hurt, but I don't want to stop."

I let his penis go, reached to his pants with both hands, started pushing down. " I want to see what I've been touching, you felt big. . ."

He completed the task of undressing himself, stood in front of me, broad, erect. And there was his cock, pointing at me, a reasonable size cock, but the head was uncommonly large, at least with my limited experience.

"You are big."

"And you're overdressed," he said, we'll have to fix that."

"But first ... hey, Sam, go sit on the bed, let's do something really sexy."

Do something sexy? My shoulder was on fire with erotic pain, I could almost feel lubrication wetting my pantyhose, I've been fondling his genitals, and now he wants to do something sexy?

"Good, that's good, Sam. Sarah, sit between his legs, OK, facing me? Yeah, like that. Put your hands on his knees."

This was odd, what Bill wanted, but he had been so right about so much. . .

Bill walked over, right in front of me! I mean, that big penis head was inches from my face, and. .

. . . and I knew what he wanted.

"Now take Sarah's head in your hands, Sam, yeah, like that."

I was right, I knew it, I knew it!

Bill moved closer, so close his penis was touching my cheek. I closed my eyes, I knew what to expect.

"Turn her head a little, Sam, turn it, position it, for her, so she doesn't have to,you're doing it all, position it, yes, like that. . ."

My husband turned my head so my lips were against that penis, I felt Bill moving, then that large head was right in front of me, right in front of my lips.

I pursed them, touched it with a kiss.

I could feel Sam's hands shaking as he held my head there, then,

then,

then Sam pushed at my head a little,

pushed me toward that penis, pushed my lips against it,

and as my mouth opened, accepting it, Sam pushed more, his hands on my cheeks, as my mouth filled with cockhead, and Sam groaned, "I can feel him in your mouth, I can feel his cock moving against your cheek, oh god, I can feel that. . ."

My husband, fully dressed, orgasmed, just like that.

Bill backed away. "We're going to have to use that bed now, Sam, OK?"

Sam, face flushed, got off the bed, looked at me still sitting alone in front of a naked at erect man.

Bill reached for his handcuffs.

"I don't want those, Bill, I don't need them."

I lifted my slip over my head.

"I don't need you to pretend to force me, not any more."

Bill came to me, still erect, still a trace of my moisture on his cock, and just like that, picked me up.

And just like that, put me in the middle of the bed.

And in a moment was beside me, hugging me one of those hugs, where bodies are tight together, where lips meet and stay locked, where hands move on backs and hips and legs.

And his hands went behind me, found the clasp of that flimsy bra, released it.

And I moved a little away from him, so I could take it off my body, so he could see my breasts, my nipples.

And while he was looking, I rolled to my back, and did as I had done for Frank, lifted my hips up, pushed at my pantyhose, pushed them down my legs, pulled them off.

And rolled to Bill again, for another of those full contact kisses, this time with my leg over his hip, this time with my pussy pressing against his leg. I liked doing that with Frank, and I liked doing it now, with Bill.

And I kissed him, and touched him, touched that cock, that head.

That head, that could be a problem for me. What a time to have that problem. . .

"Bill, I'm sorry, but you're big, or at least thick. I'm not sure I can take you, but I'll touch you, kiss you, go down on you. Don't worry, I won't leave you hanging, I promise."

"I know I'm thicker than most men, and I do like what you're promising," he said, touching me, kissing me, teasing me, moving down my body, making me spread my legs, making me want to spread my legs. "But it's too soon to worry about that. There's another thing I want to do."

He reached for, found his nightstick.

He sat beside me, let me lay there, let that stick move over my cheek. I reached for him, only to hear "Wait! Be still."

He half leaned over, his supporting his head with one hand, tracing the stick over my breasts with the other.

Oh, that felt strange, seeing this man beside me, playing with his baton, playing with my body that way. Strange, and strangely erotic, too.

There, right there, a quarter turn from me, was that head, that penis. I knew I'd have to satisfy him, I reached for it, half turned my upper body, took him in my hand, moved more, moved enough so I could get my mouth on him. I would masturbate him, let him ejaculate on me, I read that men liked to do that, and. . .

And his baton had moved, it was stroking my inner thigh.

"That sure got your attention," he said.

I looked up at him, down my body, saw it against my cunt, felt it there, looked at Sam, who was watching, too, looked at Bill, as he played with me.

"Sexy, isn't it?"

"Very," I heard, it was Sam who said it.

He pressed its side against me, just a little, just enough for me to know how strong it was, how strong he was.

"Just like before," he said, "just like before you bit it, you told me you knew how much it could hurt you."

"I knew," I said, I was aroused by what he was doing, afraid, but aroused, the pressure of that against me, against me there

"Do you trust me?" He leaned even closer, he was right over me, right over my pelvis, he was rolling that stick, rolling its length against my length, I could feel it moving easily, it had to be slippery, wet, wet from me.

"Do you trust me," he asked again. bending down, moving the stick so his lips could be there.

Oh, that felt good.

"Do you trust me," he asked a third time, lifting up, and I saw he changed the baton's position, it was poised as a penis might be, "because, before, you made love to my baton with your lips, and now. . ."

He pushed a little, I could feel the rounded end push against me a little, then invade me a little, "and now, I want you to make love to it with your cunt!"

And it was IN me! He was moving it back and forth, it wasn't thick, it felt so odd, to feel that in me, odd, erotic -- somehow I opened my legs for it, began moving with its beat, making love to it.

Then he moved down, too, until he was THERE, his tongue was there, he was tasting me, his own tongue was next to that stick, that baton, he was knowing I was so wet, so ready.

I let myself go with those sensation, opened my eyes, and his penis was right in front of me, I had only to move my head, and I did, so its tip was at my lips. I had only to purse them, holding his shaft, to touch them, and I did.

I held it still, touched its tip with my tongue, moved two inches, surrounded its girth with my lips again, this time without my husband's help.

Sam told me that most women just tongue their partner's penis, caress it with their lips. I always liked to suck on Sam's, and I did that to Bill. I sucked, drawing him in.

He was so hot -- so hard, and he was doing things to me with his mouth, too, things I've never had done before. I could feel him pressing down over me, sucking too, as I was doing to him.

He was close to making me come, and his twitching made me think he was, too.

"Let's go to the main event," he said, "that's enough playing."

"But your size, your thickness, I think it's too much, let me satisfy you this way. . ."

He interrupted me. "Wait, we'll do it like this."

He lay on his back, his erection like a thick post, a tree trunk, growing from his groin.

"Get on me, put your hands on my shoulders."

I did, straddling him, over that big head.

"Now, just move down, you control everything, how much, how hard, you'll see. . ."

My back was bowed, leaning over him, squatting, my feet at his hips, and I lowered myself, felt him, felt that blunt pressure, pushing at me, pressing me.

He took his penis, began moving it along me, along my lips, its head brushing against me, getting wet with me, still blunt, still all outside.

I moved a little, side to side, opening myself, he moved too, and the pressure changed, it was not as blunt anymore, it was a spreading sensation, I was being spread, and I looked down between us, saw him holding himself, almost the way Sam does when he masturbates for me, and I saw half of his penis's head in me, inside the lips of my vulva.

I moved again, felt more pressure, more spreading, more filling, and -- his head was in me.

I looked up as Sam, saw him staring not at my face but at what was happening, his own mouth was open, his face was sweaty, too.

Sam saw me move upright, upright and proud above this man, squatting over this man's cock. Bill stopped holding himself, and held my hips instead, I put my hands on his arms, let myself settle an inch.

I was accepting him, accepting his size. It didn't hurt, it was -- easy, it was -- ecstasy.

And then, I felt something else. Hair, groin. I looked again, we were merged, pelvis to pelvis, he was fully in me. I let all of my weight on his pelvis, he was in as deep in me as he could be. I lifted, saw his shaft reveal itself, coming out of me, dark, wet and shiny, then he lifted his hips, pushing into me again.

I suspended myself there, let him move, let that thing move in me, moving easier as I expanded to accept it.

Until he said "roll over now."

I did, and it was classic man on top sex, except that man was looking not at me, but at my husband as he moved in me, pushed in me, fucked me.

"Is this what you wanted, Sam 73? Is this what you wanted to see, is this what you wanted your wife to do?"

"Oh yes, exactly that." Sam could hardly make himself heard, his voice was raspy.

Bill was moving in me, taking me, screwing me. He bent over me, his back bowed, bent over close enough so I could lift and kiss him, so he could taste his cock, and I could taste my cunt, during that kiss, during that fucking.

"I wanted to see my third wife get fucked, too, Sam," he said.

Oh? Maybe wanting that is common, I thought, but Bill wasn't done with his story, not by a long shot.

"That wife, her name was Betty, she was more Irish than me, the reddest hair, the fairest skin."

Why was he talking about another woman? He was having sex with me!

"See my hand on your wife's cheek?"

I could feel it, I looked over my head, and could see Sam looking, too.

"Suck on my fingers, Sarah," he said.

I did, let them in my mouth, sucked on them.

"I let my buddy Rudy have my wife, not that Betty minded," he said.

"So I saw his fingers in her mouth, like you're seeing mine in Sarah's.

"And I saw his cock sliding in her cunt, like you can see mine in your wife's."

"But the difference is this, Sam."

"See how my skin looks against her cheek? See how my belly looks against her's when I'm in her. like now?"

"Close your eyes, imagine that's Rudy's cock, Rudy's fingers. My buddy Rudy is as big as I am, but Rudy is blacker than coal."

"Think of how that would look, against your wife's white skin."

Sam groaned. . .

"I'd like to see that too" Bill said. "Next time you want to play, call me, I'll get Rudy to come with me."

Sam was breathing fast, and so was Bill. And so was I. Like Bill, but black? What would that feel like, is it true about black men, about their size?

Bill was pushing harder now. "Hold my cock now, I'm ready," the driving machine above me said, as his pace increased, as I felt his size increase, too, as his penis got ready to deliver its sperm where nature intended, where my nature insisted it go.

Bill went rigid -- pelvis hard against mine. I could feel it, the pumping. He withdrew an inch, pushed in again, held that position, hard together, and my fingers could feel that action deep inside his cock, that surprisingly gentle pulsing, as his sperm, his cum, moved from deep in his body to deep in mine.

Bill came for a longer time than I'd experienced before, it felt like he ejaculated for half a minute or more, filling me.

It excited me, but not enough for another orgasm. The several I had were enough for now, what I felt was a deep satisfaction with him, with me, with Sam, instead. I was a complete woman, sexy, able to please her husband, able to please a stranger, able to take all he could give, and more.

Bill rested, deep in me. I could feel him softening, still big, still thick, but softer.

He pulled out, there was white threading from him to me, as he moved to the side, his penis wet with both of us, now.

I moved against him, leg over him, held him.

Kissed him.

"You were wonderful, Bill, more than a woman could hope for."

He held me, kissed back.

"And you too, Sarah, you're as much woman as a man could want. Too bad you're taken, you could have been number 4 wife."

Sam was standing at the foot of the bed now, looking at our two bodies, while he finished undressing.

"I hate to fuck and run, Sarah, but I think your husband wants you to himself now."

He was almost right, I wanted my husband to myself now, and I needed comfort and reassurance that we were still OK.

Bill moved from the bed, began dressing, while Sam uncovered the second bed, and pulled me to it.

And in a moment I was wrapped in the arms of my husband, and was being kissed by my husband, and touched by him.

Then came the biggest surprise of all. "We don't have to talk about this, honey," he said, as I heard the door close behind Bill. "We know what happened, you were wonderful, and I love you." I felt Sam hard beside me, opened up to him, rolled on my back and opened up, and he moved on me, over me, and then was in me, offering sweet lovemaking, offering sweet sex, offering all the comfort and reassurance I could ever want that my husband, my own sexy husband, was still with me, still loved me.

Soon enough he stopped, we slept, tangled in each other's arms.

Awoke, showered together, joined together again in bed, and finally, as Bill had predicted, I left the hotel, proud and upright, nude, except for pantyhose and heels, only wearing my coat.

And that's how come, today, the mirror still showed the bruise, the reminder.

And how it is that Sam and I didn't need it to remind us what happened was real, we remember.

And how, sometimes, I wonder if Sam still had Bill's phone number.

And if Rudy was still his friend.