The Eskimos Have It Right

When Mel stood, JS eagerly taking his place, and I saw that out of the sinew of Mel's thighs and ridged plane of his abdomen, his cock still rose so hard that it bobbed in the air, the veins standing out and Norma's drool glistening on it. In the candlelight his pubic hair and belly were matted with my wife's saliva and sweat. Her spit dripped from his balls. I noticed none of his cum, and aware of how magical a man's semen was for Norma, knew she'd kept it. I looked under the table. Lungs full again, Norma now rested her face and breasts to the floor, leaving her bottom high, between my legs beyond the edge of the table, bathed in candlelight. I have never seen her more desirable. Like a jewel, a fat, white glob of my semen nestled in the crimson lips of her cunt. Her asshole was relaxed now, and rosy. I kept a staying hand on her bottom as I rose from my place.

Motioning to Arnie, I handed him a condom I'd thoughtfully pocketed sometime in the afternoon. I was going to bring a pillow for Norma's knees, but then remembered the deep carpet beneath her. I went to the kitchen and then the hallway to turn out the lights. When I returned, JS and Clint were just finishing kicking off shoes and were still hopping awkwardly to peel out of socks. Arnie was seated in my chair, naked, and slumped back, his big hands holding Norma's hips, his alcohol-and-candlelit stare somewhere inside Norma's bottom, far away in the land of cunt. Clint lay face up under the table, beneath my wife, both his hands holding her breasts, his face hidden and his throat working. A trickle of milk ran down his neck.

Still up to the hilt in Norma, Arnie's cock had a white collar of cum around it. Dazed and staring where he entered her, he said, "I couldn't hold back." I slipped in and that was it." Paused by Arnie's disappointment, and his need to simply sit a moment, Mel, his successor, hovered at his side.

The boys stayed until the following afternoon. When we ran out of condoms, I asked Norma how she felt about receiving them without protection, and she asked me how I felt. She already knew my answer. I told our guests that my wife was ovulating, but that we would indeed like another baby. The effect on all of us was similar to having poured gasoline onto a dying fire. They reassured me that part of their preparation for the trip was a thorough medical exam, including tests for venereal diseases. They had been with no one until now. Mel asked Norma if it were all right, and she merely lay back on the bed, feet flat to the sheet, her knees in the air, and took my hand in hers as she stared at Mel and waited.

As each man came to lift her and fit her bottom between his legs, Norma was delirious, hugging him to her, to bring his mouth to hers in a kiss, and all the while whimpering in that throaty way she has when lost in sex (women do not think they are the center of the universe—they are. Let no man forget that his presence is merely a compliment to her pleasure). She later said that she had never in her life felt so much energy pour into her, that the tension in their bodies, the last toe-pushed drive to plant their seed in her (her words), had made their legs and arms and backs like steel between her thighs, under her hands, and against her back and bottom (and Mel said it was the most times he'd ever ejaculated into a woman—six, he thought).

*** I loved showing Norma off, just as others have with their wives down through the ages (a Parthian warlord would have his bride walk naked through the streets of his city on her way to marry him, so that all could see what a prize he had). We exposed her in many places, under many different circumstances, with many kinds of men. With guests in our home it was particularly exciting and non-threatening, as it was with the boys who make home food deliveries, especially once with a delivery boy from a well-known ice cream parlor here.

We went dancing late at night (nightlife in Buenos Aires never begins seriously until one or two in the morning). I watched her dance with many men well into the dawn—with young boys, high school kids, and men of all ages, wanting so much to be with her). Norma was 27 when she died, and I much older, and so her dance partners treated me respectfully as her probable rich lover. They asked permission to take her for a dance, although a few were defiant upon returning to our table, thinking, I suppose, that whatever intimacy they had enjoyed with her brought with it some kind of ownership, that they might take her from me. But almost always it was fun without consequences.

I liked when she returned to the table with the interior part of the front of her skirt covered with a suitor's semen, Norma having held his cock between her strong thighs, while her man of the moment thumped his hips against her buttocks, and his cock slid back and forth in the oily heat between the lips of her cunt, Norma having accommodated him by leaning forward, giving him her hooded clitoris to push against. Or when she returned with her bottom and, often, her back, wet with his semen, I knew her partner had laid his cock up between her ass cheeks, pointing at the ceiling, pressing his balls into her heat, and an arm around her breasts, with the other pulling her hips hard against him. He had discovered that my wife would help him slide the length of the valley formed by the two halves of her bottom, gripping him as he sprayed against her asshole (she told me once that for her it felt like she was kissing his balls with her cunt as he unloaded onto her). The pressure of her lover's ejaculation was sometimes so strong with his cock pressed hard between their bodies and compressed between her cheeks of her ass that his semen shot up along her back inside her dress. By the time she'd reached our table again it had dribbled down over her bottom. It stuck to her as she walked. Once, my wonderful lady allowed a North American basketball player to fill her mouth while they danced in the early morning hours of this just past spring in a dancehall in the fashionable district of Palermo. She told me he was so tall that she merely had to lower her head to accommodate him. She returned to the table radiant, and unknown to her until I told her later, a gobbet of his cum visible just below a corner of her mouth.

Once, Norma told me that she was sure that I would have liked, at least orally, to have been the recipient of the attentions she received. Thinking about it since, she was right. All that she received from the men who admired her filled me with greater passion for her. Norma's whole being was an extension of my sexuality, and sharing her beauty an always renewing boost to our passion. For this communication I'm using my personal email. Whatever comment you might make about us will be highly appreciated and answered immediately.