Surrogate Wives Club Ch. 04

I was never like this; I was always content with Brad. What has turned me? Now. my body lusts for hot hard sex, seemingly with anyone. Is this how I want my life to be ... going from man to man? Hopefully, I haven't reached Lauren's status yet ... I don't want to be seen as a slut. I have standards, I won't accept just anyone ... a man must have certain attributes. He needs to look good, smell good, present himself well, and, as I eagerly stroke this cock, it sure helps to have one like this.

His lips avidly feast on my breasts for so long that my nipples become tender from the attention Graham lavishes on them. I want to feel his erection moving inside me. At last, I watch him rise up, his body above mine, his eyes scanning every part. I am still wearing all of my black lingerie below the waist. His hands slide my panties off.

Looks like he's going to do me with the stockings and garter belt still in place. By this point, I don't care, so long as he puts this thick cock inside me ... make me happy, make him happy and get Lauren off my back.

Graham spreads my legs wider. The moment has arrived; I am about to be the first surrogate wife to sample the newest, thickest cock in our neighbourhood ... I brace myself, hopeful I can take this without much difficulty. The last thing I want is to spoil his experience by whining that it won't fit. I peer down between our bodies, watch him positioning it, feel the large bulbous head slide around in my abundant wetness ... my juices are flowing freely now.

A first gentle push ... oh my god, it feels huge. Thankfully, he is considerate. I can't stop from emitting a surprised grunt, causing him to pause. I silently tell myself, 'If I could take Wal's, I can take this one.'

"I'm ok, Graham, no need to stop, just go for it."

"Are you sure, that looked like it hurt?"

"No, I'm good, just do it."

Accepting my reassurance, he presses forward again. I feel the large head captured within my opening. I suck in deeper breaths, prepare for more, but for the moment, he caringly seems content to hold the gain made. I look up, see his eyes watching me intently, obviously reading mine, looking for signs of pleasure or pain.

I lift my legs higher, wrapping them around the back of his thighs. That will open me up more. "Come on in to me," I urge, hands clinging to his broad shoulders.

He pushes again, lodges another inch or two of his solid core inside my vagina. "You're so hot inside," he enthuses.

"And you're so hard and thick, Graham."

My acknowledgement of his impressive dimensions must inspire him to penetrate me deeper, he presses on. Oh my god, this one sure is thick, already I feel solidly stuffed and I know I don't have it all. At least, my dates with Wally have prepared me. I try to peep between our bodies again. He anticipates my thoughts, "Not much more, I'm nearly there."

"That's ok, it feels good, Graham," reassuring myself as well as him.

"Just as well you had that guy, Wally ... you know what to expect. I remember my wife struggling the first few times, it was looking like not quite a match made in heaven."

Graham looks to be around mid-forties, "You have a good memory if you can recall your wife struggling to cope all these years on."

He laughs heartily, "She's my second wife, we've only been married two years. I can't remember how my first wife coped, nor could I particularly care now. But poor Gwenda, she could only take less than half of me the first few nights until I finally got to bury it all. But you, Becky, you're doing really well, I'm impressed."

Our unexpected conversation distracts me ... he steadies his body over mine and thrusts the remaining inch or two. Now, I can feel it all ... a hard, solid core of man-flesh and blood tight inside my pleasure passage.

Considering how limited is my experience with men other than Brad, I am thrilled that my body can accommodate Graham as well as I imagine Lauren and Stephanie will when they have their chance with him. He takes the time for me to adjust to his thickness before beginning to withdraw, then reinserting, gradually engaging a pleasant fucking rhythm that soon has my body throbbing and pulsing. I expect to draw as much pleasure from this encounter as the man atop me.

I manage to orgasm ... and marvel at how easily I now seem able to cum. I only ever cum once with Brad, but I had two from each fuck with Will last night. I feel a second orgasm build within as Graham plunders my body with his thick cock. He verbalises his solid fucking with expressive exhortations thrown in, like "Oh, Becky, you're good," "Oh, fuck me, so fuckin' hot inside you," "Oh, take my cock, honey" and "Oh, you're a great fuck."

Brad, Will, even Wal, only fuck in silence, except for expressive grunts and sighs.

He's a good lover and controls himself well but at last, I hear the words I expected after my first orgasm. They don't come until long after I enjoy my second, "Oh fuck, I'm gonna cum, honey!"

As I feel his first blast of cum surging deep inside me, reality hits ... I forgot to insist on him wearing a condom. I never worried with Will, his being an old friend, although the way that Lauren spreads herself around, maybe I should in the future ... if I get to have him again. I have birth control but I have to consider STDs and embrace safe sex. Luck will only go so far.

But as I feel his thick appendage spasming what seems like copious amounts of his cum, I do concede that I like to feel the human male skin inside me, not sheathed in rubber.

He pulls out and I lay alongside Graham for ten minutes, but fearful of falling asleep after this tiring day, I force myself to sit up.

"You're not leaving?" his words sound panicky.

"Yes, I must get home to relieve my babysitter."

"You said you'd stay until midnight."

"I did, but we've both cum now." Brad is always done after one, so I tell Graham, "I expect it will take a while before you're up again."

"Is that based on your husband or the guy you had last night?"

I don't want to be drawn into comparisons with my husband's ability. Being our new neighbour, this man will likely meet Brad when he returns. I'll have to pluck up the courage to tell Brad I've had him.

"I assume that's how it is for most guys."

"Drawing on your vast experience with men, eh, Becky?"

"Ok, I admit I haven't had many guys to test that theory, but my female friends all say the same thing."

"Dangerous to generalise, Becky. You've never had me before. I'm ready for more now, so please lay back down?"

I'd prefer to leave. I've cum twice, he's cum once so he should feel good. As far as I'm concerned, its mission accomplished. Would the others stay? Stephanie and Lauren would probably would, perhaps I better. I lay back alongside Graham.

"I like variation, honey, so your turn on top now. I won't be quite as thick this second time but you'll still feel enough substance to enjoy the ride."

Graham remains on his back, his hand stroking his cock. Not as solid as it was, but still thicker than Brad or Will's normal erections. I straddle Graham's body, position my pussy above his upright shaft, wriggle around on it, feel the head forage in my slick wetness. I move around until I feel the knob captured in my entrance and begin to push my pleasure passage down over his second-best erection.

I ride him cowgirl style. His cock may only be half as thick now, yet it still feels like I'm having a normal fuck with Brad, providing an abundance of pleasure to me. I orgasm again. He sure has endurance; I wonder if he expects to cum again.

It is soon obvious from his firm upthrusts and the constant fondling of his hands on my breasts that he is pursuing a second cumming. I indulge him, riding on and on ... and on. It seems to take forever. I think of how I could be home by now if I'd left after one. Finally, I feel him spasming inside me, depositing another abundant quantity of his semen within. He looks happy and content ... I feel good too. Now, it is definitely time for me to leave.

I spot a bedside clock ... oh no, it's nearly midnight. We've been in bed for over two hours. Admittedly, we have passed the time nicely.

I lift my tired body up off Graham. I should get straight out of bed and leave, but, for the moment, I flop down alongside his naked body. Again, I cannot afford the risk of dropping asleep here. I lay on my side, facing him on his back, resting one hand affectionately on his chest.

He opens his eyes, "You're about to leave, aren't you?"

I nod in agreement.

"Is there nothing I can say to persuade you to stay? I've had such a good time with you tonight, Becky."

"Yes, it's been fun," I agree, as my hand moves to lift up the floppy remnants of his erection, still sticky with his and my fluids, "and you do have a wonderful cock that I have enjoyed very much. Maybe we can do this again sometime soon."

"Oh, you can count on that, Becky."

I lean over toward his face and kiss his cheek, "Goodnight, sweet dreams."

"I'll have plenty of those."

He lifts an arm, wrapping it around my back to attempt to hold me there.

"I will too, Graham, since I'm sleeping alone tonight."

"Oh yes, your husband has flown away. Well, if you can't sleep, you know where to find me."

"Oh, don't tempt me, so near and yet so far."

He draws me in for another deep kiss.

I manage to pull my lips free, "Enough, Graham, I can't stay and that's that. We had a good time, don't spoil it." Fortunately, he sees reason, letting me up.

I slip from within his arm and leave his bed. Since I am still wearing most of my lingerie, I only need to search for my tiny panties. Once I'm standing upright, I feel his double deposit of cum begin leaking from me. I find my panties and quickly pull them up to stem the drips that now feel like a stream. I see that I won't be wearing these stockings again ... the wild exertions of two bouts of sex, our legs -- his hairy - rubbing together, have shredded my stockings, leaving what my mother used to call ladders.

I shimmy my way into my dress and manage to get the zip up. He watches every move and I get a thrill seeing such appreciation and warmth in his eyes. I spot a full-length mirror, better check myself out ... must appear somewhat decent to the babysitter. Oh, my god, the image I see is of a woman who's been solidly fucked, nothing resembling how I looked when I left home five hours ago. Hopefully, my babysitter is not all that alert at this late hour or at least discrete.

Graham pleads one more time for me to stay. I make a mistake by leaning over to give him a parting kiss, and he tries to pull me back onto the bed. For a moment, I see some aggression as he holds me down and furiously tongue kisses me, a hand even reaching up under my dress again. I manage to tear myself away.

Wally's concept was for surrogate wives to provide the neighbourhood husbands with sex for free, so this wild episode will actually cost me since I am still to pay the babysitter. How crazy is that, but I did have fun.

As I walk through the darkened house toward the front door, I recall Lauren's basic instruction when I agreed to join what is now her group ... only give the guys one fuck, one cum. She said, 'Always leave them wanting more.' I've ignored that rule so far. Last night with Will set the table and tonight I have overindulged.

I close the door behind me, hearing it lock and look out across my neighbourhood. Most of the houses are in darkness. I get back into my car to drive a short distance to my house. The digital clock on the dashboard reads 11.59. I swing the car onto our driveway ... what is that? The headlights pick up the shape of something or someone on the love seat on our front lawn. I am nervous, should I get out of the car, could it be a prowler? I cannot use the remote to open the garage door and drive inside to safety because we've locked Brad's car away in there for the two weeks he's away.

I take my chances, open the car door and step out, peering in the darkness toward the love seat in our front yard, trying to make out if that's a person sitting there. If it is, who could it be? I step closer, see that it is indeed a person sitting there with a large object alongside. I move closer still, calling out tentatively in a shaky voice, "Who's there?".

I get no answer until I am close enough to recognise the face of my husband. 'Oh fuck, what's he doing here, he should be three hours into his flight to Europe?' The bulky object next to him is his luggage.

"So, Becky where the fuck have you been?"

I freeze, what can I say? I have no excuse prepared ... never thought I'd need one, the last person I expect to see sitting on my front lawn at midnight is my husband, having waved him off on his trip. I even stayed to watch the aircraft back away from the terminal. How can he not be gone?

"Why are you here, why aren't you on the plane ... I saw you leave?"

"Yes, very convenient for you! Watch your husband get on an overseas flight and then go out whoring. Where to, Becky? Where have you been?"

"What happened to your flight?"

"We don't seem to be getting anywhere, Becky, not if your answers are going to be questions. So, me first, where did you go?"

I search desperately to come up with a plausible excuse, "I, err ... I, umm, stopped off at Lauren and Will's for a drink, I ... err ... didn't want to be alone just yet." That is the best I can do; my mind is whirling.

"Nice try, Becky, but a lie. I called them, Lauren is out, I spoke to Will. Try again."

Desperately, I try changing my story, "It's not a lie, I didn't see Will, only Lauren," I insist, but quickly try turning it back on Brad, "what happened to your flight, why are you not on it."

This time he gives me a straight answer, "The plane began taxiing out toward the main runway but we never made it. The pilot stopped only a hundred metres from the terminal and that's where we sat for at least a half-hour while ground engineers fussed around. Eventually, the pilot told us the aircraft had a fault that could not be fixed tonight. He said they had no other aircraft available to run the flight until tomorrow morning, so they returned us to the terminal, gave us back our luggage and sent us away. Those not living in this city went to hotel accommodation and those who are residents here were sent home in a fleet of cabs."

"So, why are you sitting out here and not inside?"

"Because, as the cab approached our house, I spotted your car parked a few doors down the road. I couldn't figure out why you would be parked there. By the time we went through the long wait on the tarmac while they decided what to do with our plane, then retrieving our bags and being assigned to cabs, I only got here twenty minutes ago. I couldn't work out why you'd park your car down there, so I've been sitting here trying to figure it out. I thought I'd watch it for a half-hour to see if you appeared and moved it up here ... and what do you know, here you are."

"Why wouldn't you have gone inside to check if I was home? The car could have broken down a few doors from home."

"A possibility, Becky! I thought of that, but, it didn't, as you have just proven by driving the short distance home. I've been sitting here in the dark, watching, and you didn't come out of our house to go retrieve your car. I saw you come out of that house down there. What's in there that caught your attention tonight, Becky? Certainly not the Jacksons, they moved out last week. So, tell me, Becky, who's in there that drew you into that house tonight?"

"There's a perfectly simple explanation, Brad."

"If there is, you haven't managed to think of it yet, you're stalling for time. I have already dismissed the implausible story that you stopped off at Lauren and Will's house for a drink."

"Why is that implausible ... I did do that."

"No, you didn't because Will said you didn't and your car was parked outside that house and I saw you come out of there. On top of that, when I got out of the taxi, I walked down to check to see if the bonnet was warm. It wasn't, so you've been parked there for a long time ... perhaps from, could I suggest, nine-thirty. Did you have a good time in there, Becky? Even out here in the dark, there's enough light to see that you look like you did."

I can't answer that, I can't admit to Brad that I have been cheating on him for the past two hours ... and last night too with Will. Oh, why couldn't I have plucked up the courage to tell him my plan for us to convert to an open marriage before this? He may have understood and accepted my plan and I wouldn't be standing here, frozen to the spot, trying to come up with a plausible explanation.

Brad moves quickly, taking me by surprise, reaching to grab my wrist, pulling me close to where he sits on the seat in our front yard. His other hand darts between my knees, slides his fingers up under my dress, over the torn stockings. I try to clamp my thighs together but I'm too slow and I feel his hand reach the tops of my thighs. His fingers at the crotch of my panties, he pulls them aside, pushes fingers inside me. I am sore there from the thickness of Graham's cock fucking me twice and I wince at his aggressive touch. As quickly as it slips up there, Brad's roaming hand retreats and the other releases my wrist. I watch him bring those fingers up in front of his face ... he peers at them in the semi-dark and sniffs.

"That's cum, Becky ... some man's cum and certainly not mine ... I felt a lot of it too, your panties are saturated. Want to tell me who he is and why you were in that house?"

Resignedly, I suggest, "Can we go inside, please, Brad? We'll send the babysitter home and we better have the talk I was waiting to have with you when you get back from your trip."

My husband nods agreement and I lead the way into our house. We are met by the babysitter in our living room, the lights are on and they seem harsh to my eyes after standing in the darkness outside. I feel self-conscious, she and Brad must see how dishevelled my hair is now, my clothing nowhere near as neat as when I left the house earlier.

Unwilling to engage in any lengthy conversation with her, I turn to ask Brad, "Can you pay Jenny, I need a shower."

I head to the bathroom, anxious to be out of the clothes that I wore especially for my session with Graham, particularly my sexy black lingerie. I don't want Brad to see what I was wearing under my dress tonight, my intended sexy look could now come across as tawdry. I make it to the bathroom, closing the door behind me. I remove my dress quickly, believing I have time on my side with Brad preoccupied in settling with our babysitter. But I hear the door open behind me. I didn't lock it, deciding that could have looked suspicious, but his seeing me like this is worse. I turn to face him anxiously.

What must Brad think, seeing his loving wife like this ... my hair is a mess, lipstick smudged, wearing my sexiest lingerie ensemble ... bra, garter belt, panties, and stockings, the latter torn and shredded?

"Who is he?"

"Shush, please don't wake the kids."

"Who the fuck is he?" he demands to know again ... at least quieter.

"Nobody, Brad."

"You dressed like this for nobody, Becky ... give me a break. I'm not a fool."

"What I mean ... is ... he's nobody for you to worry about. He's just a new member of the Surrogate Wives Club."

"The Surrogate Wives ... I thought that group broke up last year ... and how are you involved in it?"

"Lauren started it up again."

"WHAT? You went crazy when I confessed that I'd been caught in their web last year. I willingly dropped out to save our marriage. You even dumped your friends over it, Becky. I had a suspicion there could be trouble when you told me you were mixing with them all again."