Thick and Thin: The Beginning

Chrissy can't smoke and sing at the same time, but she holds the joint to my lips for me as I play.

We bounce between snippets of other songs as we finish off the rest of the margaritas and the first joint. We all agree no more tequila is needed and Chrissy gets up to refill the pitcher with bitter lemon and ice. Lance's and my eyes are glued to her ass and long legs as she traipses into the kitchen.

When she heads back, I stand and hand my guitar over to Lance, who places it in its floor stand. I stay standing to let Chrissy get back to her seat more easily and she stops and kisses me, the taste of her smoky tongue like some exotic whiskey.

As she pours out drinks, Lance prepares to fire up the second doobie.

"How about a little bit later for that?" she says.

Lance smiles and puts the joint and lighter back in the saucer.

Chrissy sits down on the edge of the cushion, takes a sip of her drink and then places the glass on the table. She scoots back into her seat, leaving us in a mirror image of last night. My wife once again between us, on the right side of the loveseat, but now Lance is on the guitar stool, just ahead and to her right, while I sit on her left.

She turns her head to me. "Remind me again how things got started last night?"

Having just kissed her before she sat down, I decide we're up to that point in the playback. Without speaking, I reach over and untie the belt of her kimono robe. I shift until my whole body is turned toward her, balanced on my right knee on the sofette and my left foot on the floor.

Leaning in and taking her face gently between my hands, I kiss her long and luxuriously. All the while, my hands work down from her face and peel her robe open from top to bottom. I've purposely placed myself to block as much of her body from Lance as I can, so when I finally break off the kiss and rotate back to my ass on the cushion, he gets a sudden and full unveiling.

The look on his face is both beatific and animalistic. As if an Angel has appeared before him and he is going to worship and then devour her.

My wife lifts her left leg and lays it over my right, opening herself to our visitor's full view. I'd guessed right earlier; there were no panties. She reaches for my right hand and guides it between her legs. Then she begins stroking and squeezing her perfect chest apples.

I begin slowly, simply petting her mons and it takes me a moment to realize there's much less hair than usual. Chrissy always keeps herself well-trimmed for wearing bikinis, but I've asked her not to shave it all off because the fine red hair of her bush is so soft and pretty. But now it feels like at least the bottom portion has been removed, leaving the lips naked, and just a small, soft cloud of hair over the top. Now I understand why she'd been in the bathroom so long. A once-over of her legs, my ass!

Squeezing the lips together, I pull them away from her body. Her sharp intake of air tells me I've both caught her by surprise and excited her. My fingers stroke up and down the outside of her labia major a few times, then go deep into my mouth to coat them with saliva.

She does the same with both sets of her fingers and begins rubbing them in circles over her nipples.

After using the makeshift lubrication on my fingers to begin prying her open, I can immediately tell I won't have to spit on them again; she's already wet inside. I play with her a while, putting on a show for Lance. Spreading her inner lips apart so he can clearly see my wife's glistening, pink interior. Then I start with the finger fucking.

By the time I have my third finger inside of her, her eyes are squeezed closed, she's pinching and pulling on her nipples, and she's bucking her hips against my hand, signalling me to go deeper and faster. I do as she asks, while keeping the heel of my palm pressed against her hardening clit.

"That's it. Come for me!" we suddenly hear from Lance. I'd been so focused on Chrissy that he'd just been an object in the corner of my eye. I see her eyes open at the sound as well; she'd apparently been equally oblivious to our quiet audience.

We both look at him now and I realize he's been busy while I've been staring with stoned concentration at Chrissy's body. Without me noticing, he slid his end of the coffee table to the side so it no longer stands between him and Chrissy. He'd changed into long athletic shorts before coming over and now they're pulled down below his ass and his hard cock is in his hand.

Out of the corner of my right eye, I see Chrissy unconsciously lick her lips. She'd gotten a hungry look on her face when she saw it for the first time last night and now that look is back. When I'd first seen Lance's lance, I'd flashed back to another episode with the old college girlfriend who'd told me that marijuana made her (and apparently Chrissy) extra horny.

Letitia, that was her name. Well, after Letitia got that first fuck out of the way, she could be just as silly as anybody else who was stoned, although she was still far from finished with the sex. Once, after she used her mouth to get me ready for another round, she giggled and asked if I'd ever taken the 'dollar bill test'.

I admitted that I hadn't.

"Do you know how long a Federal Reserve Note is?" she asked as she grabbed my pants from the floor next to where she was kneeling, took out my wallet and began rifling through it.

"No," I said, dumbfounded.

"6.14 inches," she declared as she pulled out the least crumpled bill she could find. Letitia was a biology major and put on her best clinical voice. "Globally, the average penis size is only about 5.5 to 5.75 inches, which is fine, because vaginas are only 4-5 inches deep anyway, before stretching." She lost the straight face with the next line. "But of course, guys always think they're bigger than they really are. The dollar bill test is an easy way to check."

My willy had begun to fade with my confusion, but she sucked it back to life.

"I'm going to lay Old George across your wang and if we see anything peeking out at the end, we'll know you're longer than 6.14 inches at least."

She laid the bill on top of my hard cock, snugging it down into my pubes for a more accurate measure and my cockhead appeared beyond the edge of the bill.

"We'll call it six and a half inches," she declared. Then she looked hungrily into my eyes and said, "You pass the test," before slowly lowering her mouth over me until her full lips were buried in my pubes where the bill had been and my cockhead was entering her throat.

Looking now at Lance's cock, poking up from his shaved scrotum, I have the same impression that I'd had last night. Lay Old George across him and you'd probably see a finger-wide band of flesh under the corona, so only a quarter to a half inch longer than me. But I've read that length is actually the second most important measurement of a man's penis. The most important being the circumference. A thicker dick is obviously going to make more contact with the nerve endings in the vaginal wall, theoretically to the woman's delight. And Lance was thick.

Not the proverbial beer can from a dirty story, but thick enough that I don't think Chrissy's fingers touched around it last night. With me, she could probably touch all three of her long fingers to her thumb. I imagine unusual proportions like Lance's are the reason for custom condom companies.

Now he has his thick dick in hand and I find myself going off into a weed-induced, Analyst Nerd moment of contemplation. Unconsciously, I remove my fingers from Chrissy's slit and wrap them around my other wrist. Comparing my fingers around my wrist to his around his rod, I figure his cock isn't as thick as my wrist, but damn near. Certainly a helluva lot thicker than the cock my wife has become used to over the past three years.

"You're going to come for me now," he says in a low, steady voice. "You've spread your married pussy wide open for another man to see and now you're going to show me how horny and dirty you really are and come in front of a stranger."

Chrissy looks mesmerized. Only in this case, the snake charmer has been hypnotized by the cobra. She let's go of her right tit and slides the hand down her belly to her clit. I pull myself out of my wool gathering and get back up on one knee again, being careful not to block Lance's view this time. Thrusting the fingers of my left hand inside her, I curve them upward to tap on the elusive G-spot.

Lance continues with his directions to my wife. "If you do a good job, if you really entertain me with the power of your orgasm, I'll let you crawl over here and suck my cock."

As last night had progressed, Lance, and then I, had treated Chrissy more roughly, more like a whore, and she had loved it. We're apparently picking up not far from where we left off and Chrissy doesn't seem to mind at all.

"Do you want to suck my cock?" he asks, shaking the pole at her.

"Yess," she sighs.

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, I want to suck your cock."

"Prove it." He reaches down and pulls his jersey shorts back up to his waist, creating a massive tent in the soft grey material.

The disappearance of her reward brings a look of disappointment to her eyes for a moment, followed by a look of concern. She suddenly shifts her gaze to me in surprise, as if I've just appeared out of thin air. Her eyes have a worried question in them. For an answer, I jam three fingers quickly in and out of her tight, wet cooze.

She continues staring into my eyes as her own fingers begin rubbing over her clit. Then they shift to Lance and she begins keening as a wonderfully powerful first orgasm breaks loose and rolls through her. She presses hard into the back of the loveseat, eyes clenched, body trembling and breaths coming in ragged gasps.

When her panting slows to near-normal breathing, she finally opens her eyes and looks at Lance. His face is calm and steady and he says nothing. Then he smiles as he lifts his ass off my stool and slides his gym shorts back down to mid-thigh. His thick penis bobs up happily.

Sliding forward off the seat cushion, my wife drops to her knees. Lance is only two feet away, so there really isn't much crawling to be done, but she does it theatrically all the same. She grabs the elastic waistband of his shorts and pulls them the rest of the way down and off, over his already-bare feet.

She cradles his package reverently; heavy, naked balls cupped in one hand, the other wrapped around the shaft. Her head bends forward and she kisses his helmet on its crown.

I get up and finish the job Lance started, sliding my end of the coffee table away from the loveseat. Sitting on the floor up against the table, I watch my wife make love to the other man's penis with her mouth.

He's quickly glistening with her saliva and she's trying to get him ever deeper into her throat, but his thickness is too much. I feel a mini-triumph when I realize that he might be longer, but he's not going to be able to go as deep down her throat as I do.

Giving up on trying to swallow him, she instead uses her hand to stroke the bottom of his shaft, while she feasts on the top.

It's time again for me to leave the audience and join the action on stage. My clothes are off in seconds.

I press a large, firm throw pillow from the loveseat against the outside of Chrissy's knee. Getting the message, she lifts herself up on her toes, supporting her upper body on Lance's thighs, while never taking her mouth off his cock. Once the pillow is under her, she kneels back down on it.

Kneeling on the pillow myself, I scrunch down and then bring my own hard cock up from below her ass cheeks and into her hot cunny. She's gloriously tight and I savour inching my way inside her nice and slow.

And so the night, or rather the afternoon, begins.

CHAPTER SIX

The second joint is fired up a while later as we relax and bask in the afterglow of an incredible session of fucking and sucking, loving and laughing. We've moved to the full-sized sofa so we can all sit next to each other; Chrissy naturally in the middle. We're naked and sit on several large bath towels to catch any bodily fluids. Chrissy has one load of cum in her belly, which isn't a problem, but the one that went into her cunny is slowly oozing out and the way she occasionally dips a finger into the mess and licks it clean, makes it very clear she's enjoying being our cumdump. The two cocks that lay temporarily limp between our thighs are sticky with our own seed, my wife's saliva and the juice of her three or four orgasms. No point in counting anymore.

Chrissy's hands float; one handling the joint, while the other dips into her swampy quim or both languidly playing with her two flesh toys, coaxing them back to life. Lance and I use our outside hands to handle the doobie because our inside hands are exploring the slut just as gently and casually as she's doing with us.

When we get to the point where we each have two fingers inside her at the same time and she has both cocks beyond half-staff, Chrissy signals it's time to snuff out the half-finished joint and move to the bedroom. She's ready for more of her favourite thing about having two cocks around.

"What did you call it yesterday?" she asks Lance, who is much more up on the language of erotica and illicit sex than a simple married couple.

"Spit roast," he replies, before wetting the tips of his fingers in his mouth and pinching off the glowing end of the joint.

"Then that makes me the pig, right? The pig on the spit?" Thirty minutes from now she probably won't mind if we call her a pig, but right now, in this mellow in-between moment, it doesn't seem to be sitting with her too well. My tough, competitive wife has shown me a sexually submissive side of her I didn't know existed, but apparently there is a limit when she's not in the throes of passion.

"I prefer to think of you as a nice rotisserie chicken," I offer, not wanting anything to upset our pleasant buzzes. I start singing.

"If you'll be my Dixie chicken

I'll be your Tennessee ram

And we can come together down in Dixieland

Down in Dixie, yeah!" ***

Chrissy laughs and gets to her feet. She doesn't let go of our cocks, so we get up pretty quickly, too. "Well," she drawls, "let's head on over to Dixieland and see what these rams can do for this Dixie Chick." She turns loose of my dick to let me lead the way, but keeps a firm grip on Lance's thick handle, which grows in her hand as she pulls him along behind.

Inside the bedroom, she releases Lance, walks over to the foot of our bed and turns to face us, standing on a handmade, white flokati rug. She beckons us forward as she slowly drops to her knees.

"Actually, let's start with my second favourite thing about having two cocks around."

Grabbing our joints, my surprising wife begins rubbing them over her face and taking them in her mouth, back and forth, kissing, licking and sucking in adoration.

Before long we have her pressed up against the footboard and take turns fucking her pretty mouth. Her arms are stretched out to the sides, gripping the footboard's vertical rails. The back of her head rests between two rails with her mouth hanging open for whoever's turn it is.

The sight and sensation is a living wet dream, but neither of us wants to come again just yet, so we finally take a hand each and pull her to her feet. As we're walking around the corner of the bed, Lance drops her hand and walks out of the room without a word. He's back just a few seconds later, holding his stash bag. Does he really think we might need another joint? I sure don't, but I'm not going to worry about it.

Chrissy crawls into the centre of our King-sized and stays on her hands and knees.

"Come and get your Dixie Chicken, boys," my Southern Belle Slut drawls.

Lance is already near the head of the bed after putting his bag on the nightstand, so he goes for her face. I crawl up behind her beautiful ass and take my place between her legs. My wife is already blowing happily on his thick skin flute as I slowly enter her from behind. Her humming turns to groaning, growing deeper with each inch I slide into her wet pussy. Is she going to come just from going back on the spit? Whether it's a full orgasm or not, I can't tell, but the animal noise that escapes from around Lance's meat when my balls finally knock up against her pussy lips lets us know that she's in ecstasy.

My partner in defiling my wife picks up on my slow rhythm and matches it, so she has a cock pushing into her from both ends at the same time, at the same deliberate pace, and Chrissy is apparently in heaven.

She pulls her mouth off of Lance during one of his backstrokes to swallow the spit and get a full breath. "God, baby, you were right!" she gasps. "Having two cocks inside you at once does feel great!"

Lance and I freeze and look at each other. 'Who is she talking to?' is the obvious question on both of our stoned faces.

Then he gets a big shit-eating grin and says, "I don't think I'm 'baby', quite yet. Is there something you haven't told me about, partner?"

I literally feel my mouth hanging open, but I can't make any words come out of it. Fortunately, Chrissy closes the loop and saves me.

"All those times you said you wished you had two cocks because you liked fucking my mouth and my pussy so much you wanted them both at the same time. You said I would like it too and you were right!" She stretches her neck out to recapture the head of Lance's dick between her lips.

Lance keeps grinning at me, but now I can return it, my honour saved. We go back to giving Chrissy the thing she likes most about having two cocks around.

We keep Chrissy on the spit a good long time, swapping places several times, making her tell us how much she loves cleaning her pussy juice off our hard cocks. She orgasms twice. First is a smaller one, just from our still matched, but faster, stroking. The second is much larger when she sneaks a hand between her legs and frigs her clit while Lance stretches her cunt and I fuck her throat.

On my next turn in the back, I may actually be feeling the results of following Lance's thick cock; Chrissy's love tunnel is not squeezing me as tightly as before. I add more hip rotation to generate extra friction against the sides of a pussy that has been fucked hard over and over for two days.

When Lance pulls out of her mouth and moves to the side, I figure it's time for the next swap and also pull out and move to my right. Just like in the pool, we're swimming in counter clockwise circles. 'Sharks circling their prey,' I think, as I see my wife's bruised and swollen pussy lips hanging open.

Before crawling down to the foot of the bed, however, Lance pauses at the nightstand to take something out of his stash bag, then finishes his lap at her ass.

From my knees in front of her, I see that these lips also look bruised and swollen. But the hunger in her eyes and the way her mouth hangs open, tells me she wants still more abuse.

Before I can grant her silent desire, Lance says to me, "Sit on your ass this time, with your legs spread. I want her ass to come up higher in the air, so her head needs to go down."

I do as directed and Chrissy drops to her forearms, her head going into my lap and my cock back into her mouth.

Looking across her back, I see her ass is indeed jutting up at an angle, with Lance's ripped torso hovering above and behind it. Perhaps he's changed her angle because she was feeling looser even to his thick joint.

I expect him to close in and take her again, but he suddenly disappears. Have the tequila and weed finally gotten to me? Or maybe they've gotten to him and he's rolled off the side of the bed? Being careful not to disturb Chrissy's work in my lap, I lean to my right and look down the side of my wife's body.