Tempting Tamara

"Where the bloody hell are we?" Tamara looked across the divide between the front seats.

Her husband turned to face her, "Nearly there." He focussed on driving again.

"I don't believe I'm doing this," Tamara muttered. 'I must need by bloody head testing,' she thought as she stared out into the dark.

Graham, Tamara's husband, had finally convinced her. "It'll be an adventure," he attempted to reassure his dubious spouse. "Something to spice things up, you don't have to actually get involved, we could just watch, and if you really don't like it we can just leave."

Graham had eventually worn a reluctant Tamara down. He had wheedled, sulked, even attempted bribery -- every trick he could think of -- and at last, to his delight, Tamara had succumbed.

"OK, OK," she had finally shouted, frustrated by his endless obsession. "I'll do it. I'll go along with it, but. . ." her eyes blazed, "if it's all fat old men -- slimy, lecherous men -- then you can fuck off."

"Anything you say," Graham acquiesced. "You're the boss."

And so, on a summer Saturday evening, just after dusk, Tamara found herself in the car with her husband bound for a rural car-park -- at thirty-two, married for eight years and she was going dogging.

<'Dogging,'> she thought. It disgusting. 'Why am I doing this?' Tamara envisioned dirty lechers with leering faces --'The grubby mac brigade,' she thought and let out a snort as she tried in vain to hold a sudden onset of giggles in check. Graham looked quizzical but remained silent, concentrating on his geography. 'Fuck it,' Tamara's internal monologue continued. 'I can always play the disgusted card and demand that we leave.' Plus Tamara was sure Graham would look after her. He might be a perv, but he wouldn't allow anything nasty to happen.

"Here we are," Graham said, grinning. "We made it."

He swung the car into the area of anonymous open ground. It looked like a wasteland to Tamara. There were several cars parked nearby but no visible sign of anything happening.

"Now what?"

"We wait," Graham responded. "There's supposed to be a girl turning up in a red beemer, she's the attraction tonight, we have to wait for her. . . "Unless," he added with a smirk, "unless you fancy being the centre of attention?" He parted the overlap of her coat and ran his palm along her thigh. "You're sexy enough to be the star event," he continued.

Despite her misgivings Tamara experienced a swell of liquid warmth between her legs. Graham's thick voice as he stroked her thigh told her he was aroused. The sordid scene she found herself partaking in, and the fact that she had dressed as per Graham's instructions -- skimpy, backless dress, FMB's and sans knickers -- turned her on. It was all so kinky.

Tamara heard the distant murmur of a car approaching. As soon as the car passed the wooden fencing that bracketed the entrance the driver extinguished the headlights.

With a jolt Tamara identified the vehicle as a BMW, the chosen chariot of tonight's draw. Tamara was curious as to what sort of woman would do this. 'Some slapper from a run-down estate,' she imagined.

The low grumble of the car's engine suddenly died. All was still.

"What happens next?" Tamara asked.

"There's a short wait," Graham answered. "To make sure that everything's OK. Then, when you see the interior light come on, that's the signal."

"And then what?"

"Then we get out and go and see what's going on." "How do you know so much about it all?" Tamara asked.

"Research," Graham replied. "I checked a few websites, got all the info. It's all out there." He said. "It's just a matter of sifting through all the stuff."

"I bet you had a rough time with your 'research'," Tamara scoffed. "You will look after me, won't you?" she asked, suddenly nervous.

"It'll be fine," Graham reassured her. "There are some loose rules, nobody is going to hassle you. If you think about it nobody wants an assault charge -- besides if anyone did get heavy they'd probably get beaten up, aggro would spoil everyone's fun."

Digesting this information, and it make a kind of sense, Tamara noticed the BMW interior light illuminate.

"It's on, Graham, the light's on!"

Car doors opened and were quietly closed -- not slammed shut -- and Tamara saw shadowy figures moving silently to the car. The shadows clustered around the passenger side, intent on something inside.

"Come on then," Graham ordered.

Once out in the open air Tamara found she could see quite clearly. The interval of waiting in the dark had given Tamara's eyes time to adjust, that and the relatively bright summer night meant that the men clustered around the BMW were easily distinguishable. She was surprised to note that -- with on or two exceptions -- the several men present weren't the motley crowd of lechers she had anticipated, in fact a couple were decidedly easy on the eye.

Graham and Tamara's arrival on the periphery of the group coincided with the driver of the BMW flinging open his door and stepping out. He held some indistinct object in his hand, an object that Tamara recognised as a camera when the man moved around to the passenger door of the car.

The gaggle of men parted to allow the man to reach down and open the door. It was then that Tamara received the first shock, for instead of some ropy old slapper a quite gorgeous blonde girl -- 'She can only be twenty at the most,' Tamara thought -- swung the most exquisitely shaped legs out of the gap and stepped into the crowd that awaited her. A murmur of approval rose from the collected men, and Tamara could only agree -- the girl was stunning.

Just then, as the girl posed with confident, almost arrogant poise, the motor drive of a camera whirred and clicked, and Tamara was startled by the sudden flashes of light. Tamara watched as the girl bared her body. She pulled her minute denim mini-skirt around her hips to reveal the smooth mound of her mons, she lifted the tiny vst-top up over her head and flung it back onto her seat, and then, with hands on hips, she allowed the men to take stock of her body.

"Fuck me." Tamara heard her husband whisper; she had to agree with the sentiment. With the black knee-boots, long, perfectly straight blonde hair, plump vulva, pretty face, and pert high breasts, the girl did make quite an impression.

While she posed girl noticed Tamara hovering at the edge of the group and winked. Tamara blushed at being singled out, and then saw that heretofore unnoticed she was now drawing attention from the onlookers.

"Another bird." She heard a voice say.

"Fuckin' fit too." Came a reply.

There was no time for Tamara to take this in for just then the driver-cum-cameraman flung open the rear door of the car, thus giving Tamara a second shock. A naked man stepped out, naked except for a pair of work boots and thick, woollen socks rolled down over the tops.

'He's got the body of Brad Pitt,' she enthused internally. 'He's as fit as an athlete; look at those abs, that chest. . .' And then Tamara's jaw went slack with astonishment. 'That cock,' she thought, 'it could cut glass it looks so stiff.' She felt the warmth between her legs bloom into a flower of desire. "Oh my god," Tamara whispered as her desire dribbled from her cleft.

The man in the boots -- which on anyone else would have looked ridiculous, but on him suited the physical effect perfectly -- paused for a moment and let the crowd survey his superb physique. He looked around at the circle as though challenging any man to match him.

None could.

The girl spoke to the cameraman in a language Tamara didn't understand. The man looked across at Tamara, appeared to make a quick appraisal and nodded to the girl.

The girl walked to Tamara and smiled. "You and me," she asked in stilted English, "we play?" Before she really knew what was happening, as though in a daze, Tamara was suddenly bereft of coat and with her dress straps lowered to her elbows, found the girl cupping her breasts. "Heavy baby," the girl grinned and hefted Tamara's jugs appreciatively before bending to take first one and then the other nipple into her mouth. After sucking Tamara's teats the girl kissed the older woman on the mouth, pushing her tongue deep and French kissing with her slippery tongue. "Sit," the girl commanded, and Tamara found herself obeying without question, settling onto the back seat of the BMW and instinctively spreading her legs.

'What am I doing?' she thought. 'I'm exposing myself to these complete strangers. I'm behaving like a slut -- and my husband's watching! This can't be happening.'

Tamara's internal wrangling ended when she felt the girl's fingers on the soft skin of her inner thighs and hot breath against her sex.

While Tamara succumbed to the swirling pleasure of the girl's artful tongue, the young Adonis stepped behind the girl and slid his erection between her labia. The girl groaned into Tamara's vulva when she felt the thick invader penetrate her body, she paused for a moment; eyes closed, and then slid a finger into Tamara's now sodden opening.

This went on for a few minutes, with the man holding the girl's hips thrusting and grunting urgently. Groaning and sighing herself the girl lapped and fingered a now moaning and thrashing Tamara. The photographer took pictures of the debauched scene, his flash bursting constantly until he gave a curt order and the man fucking into the girl withdrew reluctantly.

"You husband?" the girl asked a shaking Tamara, and pointed at Graham.

Tamara nodded and swallowed.

"We swap?" she asked. "You fuck him and me fuck you husband?"

"Jesus," groaned one of the assembled men as he jerked at his penis. "Lucky bastards," he continued. "I'd fuck the shit out of both of them."

Without waiting for a response the girl pulled Graham from the crowd, undid his fly buttons and kissed him deeply while massaging his already erect penis. The photographer handed her a small packet and a moment later Graham found a condom being deftly rolled over his glans. Graham looked at the naked young man and saw that he was busy rolling a condom over his own cock.

"Tamara. . ." Graham whispered when he saw his wife bend forward willingly over the front of the car. She was enthusiastically offering her rear to the man who took hold of her hips and eased his length into her.

Tamara thrust her head back and groaned with delight when she felt her insides stretched by the iron shaft. "Fuck yes!" Graham heard his wife enthuse. "That's so fucking hard!" The man began a rhythm and cupped Tamara's swinging breasts in his hands.

"You don't want to make fuck with me?" Graham turned his concentration to the girl who was looking at him with feigned disappointment. "You don't want to make fuck with your big cock?" The girl reclined on the back seat of the car and opened her slim thighs. Graham growled when he saw her arousal slide from between her swollen labia and trickle down the cleft between her buttocks. He swallowed in response to the sordid scene and aimed the dome of his cock at her. He pushed and felt the molten heat of her and thrilled at the tight clasp of her muscles around his cock. "Yes, baby," the girl sighed, "fuck me, fuck me good."

The girl's tight grip, supreme body, and exotic accent spurred Graham on. The fact that he could hear his wife's enthusiastic exhortations to her own lover only fired him further, and he felt his climax loom.

"I'm going to. . ." he stammered.

The girl moved quickly. Slipping off the condom she tugged at Graham's penis, aiming the eye of the thing at her face. The camera flash flared repeatedly as the goo erupted from Graham and spattered onto the girl's angelic face. Thick ropes of goo hung from her flaxen hair, while her face was smeared and spoiled with more of the stuff.

As though at a signal the boy fucking Tamara pulled his cock free of her. He ripped off the condom and then added his load to Graham's as he decorated the blonde girl even further.

There were gasps and grunts from the watchers, sounds which added to the squeals of delight from the girl when she felt the thick rain of come descend.

***

A few weeks later Tamara found the website. The photographer had thrust a card into her hand as she was leaving.

"Did that teach you?" she had asked Graham on the drive back home. "Do you want to take me dogging again?" she taunted.

There on the monitor in front of her was the photoset of that night. She studied the pictures intently -- her and the Russian, Graham and Mischa, her and those two further men. . .

Tamara gloried over the filthy pictures and revelled in the images of her and the blonde Mischa exchanging gooey kisses.

Tamara sighed as her hand snuck between her thighs.