Tina Turned Her

I groaned. I couldn't help it, I tried to stay silent but the pain was too great. I heard a snigger, then the agony increased. Sweat poured from my brow and I started to hyperventilate.

All I had done was suggest to my wife of thirty years that we spice up our sex life: Try something new, maybe buy some toys or go to a nudist resort. Nothing extreme -- no erotic piercings, swinger clubs or dogging sessions, nothing like that at all. To my amazement Sheena had agreed to it. She hadn't appeared shocked at the suggestion, or screamed and run out of the door. No, she had sat next to me, all nice and happy and we had looked online, choosing a few fun items.

Before we married and found our own place to live there had been no need for catalogues of marital aids. A sideways glance would pass between us and without a word we would walk up into the forestry and find a clearing where we could screw ourselves senseless amongst the bracken, bluebells and bird-song. But inevitably a couple of kids had altered our priorities and from that time onwards things had quietly settled down progressively.

Now our offspring had grown up, flown the nest and our silver wedding anniversary had literally sailed past with a Caribbean cruise (the epitome of middle class, middle income holidaying for middle management -- fuck, that summed up my life). Then the opportunity for the return of the shag-fest of our lost youth had never materialised.

We had now adjusted instead to the boring routine of daytime TV and a car that was an econobox mall-mobile. Retirement loomed on the horizon, an early death from suburbia a realistic prospect. A look at the other houses in our street told a depressing story; a sea of white boxes with white plastic doors and lamps that pretended to be from old stage coaches but were really made in China from white recycled plastic.

When we were married we found a shabby apartment in a crumbling old brick building. Real bricks with real mortar. It would take little encouragement for Sheena to leave her panties behind when we went out, knowing that I would be bursting with hormones and be ripping off the remainder of her clothing as soon as we returned -- or even sooner given half an opportunity. Years further on and we had traded up to this suburban nightmare.

Respectability was now important, anything 'slutty' was out of the question. Her panties had become robust and firmly on, her bed-times earlier and she was normally asleep when I followed her to bed.

She could still dress up in the gear -- if she wanted to. Her body had blossomed with maturity and child-birth; weighty breasts now featured large areolae. Their volume caused them to swing away from the body when she leaned over, which mostly happened nowadays when she was picking something up from the floor, instead of when assuming a doggy position.

Her waist was a little fuller, her ass a little rounder but when wearing a slinky dress her body could still turn heads. A laced-up corset always did it for me, lifting her flesh until it spilled gloriously over the front. Her cups literally runneth over. After an evening wearing my favourite bustier, at least one of her nipples would be guaranteed to have escaped. The trouble was that she rarely wanted to wear anything like that; and even if she did, when it was time for bed she'd disappear into the bathroom to undress, later reappearing wearing fully buttoned Winceyette pyjamas and settle down in front of the TV.

So I was immeasurably excited when against all expectations she had agreed to participate in the spice-up and anticipated a rebirth of the happy times. Days later the anonymous parcels had arrived and we opened them together, though I had to agree to volunteer to try out the products first. I willingly presented my arms and legs to the restraints and my ass for the tube of lube. A modest insertion of a digit, a gentle massage of prostate -- I could live with that.

Now I was on my knees bent over a stool in front of a crackling log fire, blindfolded. Tight ropes and unforgiving handcuffs had been applied so that I couldn't move, a ball-gag in my mouth meant that I was dribbling but that wasn't my main concern. What had my attention was the immense plastic penis that she had shoved into my butt.

It was the first time that she'd shown enthusiasm for sex in a very long time. I couldn't even remember the last time that she'd actually initiated love-making. For a period I'd persisted, then in the face of total disinterest it had petered out altogether. There's a limit to anyone's determination and I had exceeded mine.

This time though she had enthusiastically stripped off and buckled the strap-on onto herself so that it swung out in front of her -- long, thick and black. Grotesque, with heavy fake veins and leather straps, it had the bulge of a scrotum that was held tightly between her thighs and a concealed vibration device that pressed against her clitoris.

The straps reminded me of old jockstraps and I certainly didn't find those very erotic, but it had been her choice and at that point I couldn't argue that I didn't want to be penetrated. I had never been buggered and anal sex held no fantasy for me, however I had been the one to raise the possibility of trying new things so in a word - I was stuffed.

If this was what being fucked felt like, my wife actually had my sympathy. Even lubed up I had had to force myself to relax to allow myself to be invaded by the immense length of plastic, stretching my ass widely as if I was taking a super-sized crap.

First the mask, concentrating my mind on only what I could feel or hear. Then cold lube along the crack of my butt that made me clench, next a slippery touch, an irresistible invasion. A finger slowly entered and there was nothing that I could do about it. There followed a stretching and overwhelming occupation of my innermost private space, an internal churning, a rearrangement of my guts.

There was an unforseen moment when something inside was touched; suddenly there had been an arousal, a feeling of erotic vulnerability mixed with pleasure.

Unexpectedly in the middle of this she had unbuckled the cock, leaving it uncomfortably inside me. She draped a blanket over me and everything had become quiet. I tried expelling it like a huge turd but it was impossible. Eventually I gave up and waited.

At least I was warm under the blanket even if my ass was aching. After a long time I heard the door open and footsteps enter the room. My blanket was removed and my loving wife had sworn loudly at me, calling me a pathetic pervert, a loser, a wanker. Then she had gripped my testicles (mine, not the plastic ones) and twisted until I could take no more. Despite myself I had groaned, and in response had heard an unexpected chortle from a stranger -- and felt another wrench on my most sensitive parts.

My blindfold had then been removed and I slowly, nervously, looked around. The first things I saw were a pair of shiny black boots with heavy silver buckles up the sides.

I knew just by that sight who was there and went cold at the prospect. There was only one person that I knew of who regularly wore boots of that style. Filled with dread my eyes rose to take in faded grey jeans, skin tight over powerful muscular thighs and wide hips. Then a narrow waist with a flat stomach under a lime-green top. Ever upwards, the chest with slight swells with nipples poking through the thin material. Chocolate skinned strong shoulders beneath the thin straps of the top, that led to arms bearing well defined biceps and triceps.

Lastly, final confirmation when I took in the penetrating eyes of our neighbour Tina.

Of all the people in the world who I could have chosen to see my humiliation, she would have been the last. Tall and fit, with striking good looks she had the countenance of an African goddess. She lived directly across the street from us and I had known her for several years. She worked in the police where she rode motorcycles and many times I had seen her straddling a heavy fully faired bike with those thighs clad in black glossy leather.

I could have died with the shame.

~**~

I had married Sheena when we found that she was pregnant. Not that that was a great disaster, both of those things - marriage and kids - would have come eventually in any event. At the time she was slim and small-breasted and loved to be eaten out even more than she loved to eat out; frequently we made arrangements to go to a restaurant but once made up and dressed up, she would catch hold of my head and force it to her pussy for me to apply my tongue. Within moments any thoughts of leaving the bedroom would be forgotten; hours of languid love-making would follow.

It was something to do with the process of bathing, shaving, primping and preening that got her going. Probably all that scented shaving foam being rubbed over her body and a razor carefully scraped across her most sensitive area with her legs opened wide.

For blokes it's normally the classic 'shit, shave, shower & shampoo' routine but ladies seem to enjoy sitting in front of a mirror for hours plucking pubes. Nowadays she still kept herself clean-shaven but she needn't have bothered. It had been a long time since she had allowed my face close to her musky moistness.

Sheena had become friends with Tina at the local gym. I found those places incredibly boring, all that endless pounding at a machine was tedium beyond endurance. How people can tramp on a conveyor belt as if caught in a zombie apocalypse defeats me. But Sheena had always enjoyed maintaining her fitness. She kept herself trim; no body-builder perhaps, but she had a definite firmness to her muscles. I may have had the impression that of late the social side - the coffee bar and gossiping in the sauna had as much attraction as the treadmill, but I didn't really mind. The children had grown up and left home and if she found company there it was fine by me.

Tina on the other hand definitely took keen interest in the weights and had a muscular buffed body that she often showed off with ripped sleeveless T shirts. She lived in an apartment by herself; as far as I could tell she had no romantic involvement, when she wasn't riding or cleaning her police bike she spent her time polishing and pottering with a chromed cruiser of her own.

Effortlessly stunning with her tight curls of black hair, she originated from Somalia on the east of Africa, so didn't have the wide nose of the west coast. For me, she was firmly in the category of 'cute'.

"What do you think of this stupid bloody idiot then?" Sheena was talking to Tina, not me. "Is that sad or what? Sticking that up his ass, getting kicks from being made a fool." She knelt down and wrenched the dildo sideways inside me so that I could feel it moving my entire intestines around.

Then she kicked it so that it was rammed in fully balls-deep and they left the house, leaving me suddenly alone once more.

When Sheena finally returned alone and released me, I was allowed to pull the thing out of my ass but she was straight to bed wearing her winter-weight pyjamas -- a hint that I had no possible chance of romance. I was upset and disillusioned and more interested anyway in getting my gaping ass back to a state of closure. The occasion had besen well and truly ruined.

~**~

Several frosty weeks later Sheena announced that she was going on holiday with Tina. Oh, and by the way did I want to go as well?

This threw me a little; in fact it was the most bizarre thing I'd heard in a while. What did she mean by that? It obviously meant that she was happy to go by herself on a girlie trip and I had little choice about it -- in fact I could please myself. In other words don't bother.

Anyway after some consideration I decided that I did want to go on holiday. Lonely days and nights by myself didn't sound any better than a week in the sun, even if I would probably end up making my own amusements. So my motivation may have been somewhat bloody-minded, but I said that I was definitely joining them. It even amused me somewhat to drag along, like a churlish teenager joining a friend on a date and refusing to get lost.

It turned out that Tina had a 'time-share' on one of those little Spanish islands off the coast of Africa, so off we all went.

We arrived into sweltering heat. After the coolness of the plane and the airport it was like standing in front of an open oven door with a roast turkey cooking. The air conditioning was switched on to the max in the rental car as quickly as possible as Tina drove; it was her place and she knew the way. She was confident and quick as we passed olive groves and goat farms, through the switch-backs of a mountain range and down to a beach resort.

Sheena and Tina clearly had a friendship beyond me. I was feeling on the outside despite Tina's sociability and constant attempts to include me in the conversation. I sat in the rear of the car, struggling to hear what was being said against the whine of the tiny engine as it struggled with the hills.

When we reached the time-share I was quite impressed. It was not an apartment or a chalet on a complex as I had anticipated but was actually a small house with its own pool. High on a hill overlooking the sea, we could see the sun setting against a fiery sky and while we took in the view Tina took her case into her room.

She emerged wearing a thin sarong robe wrapped loosely and tied above her boobs. For the first time ever as far as I can remember, I saw her feet. Without the boots she had strong calf muscles and long toes with nails painted dark blue. The pinky toe on the right foot was fitted with a gold ring; I can't recall ever seeing toes so long that a ring could be placed there.

The sweat of the journey glistened on her dark skin as she led us on a short tour. There was a bathroom and another bedroom which did not have a sea view, but had a double bed and a wardrobe, into which Sheena and I unloaded our cases.

The living area was open plan with a kitchen area and a fridge which was ready stocked with bottles of booze. She had a decent management agency for sure. I was still dressed for the chilly weather back home, so a cold beer was just what the doctor ordered. We all took one and Tina slumped on the sofa, drinking the chilled lager. Her flimsy robe fell aside and her long legs stretched out. From where I was standing, it was I could see that underneath she was naked. Her shaved mound peeped out and her cleavage was visible through a gape in the fabric, showing the undersides of her small firm breasts.

I tried not to stare at this exhibition too obviously and went to our room to change into cooler clothing. This took longer than normal; the image was burned firmly into my mind and I had an erection that needed time to subside. When I finished changing I found the shower room door was open and I could see them both in there.

Now I might be somewhat naïve but until then I had only had a suspicion that Sheena had tastes beyond 'straight'. Suddenly everything became confirmed. The biker cop / gym rat with the short hair was never the type to work in a beauty parlour. My wife was now spending more time in her company than mine, had placed me in a embarrassing position in private, then invited this woman to sneer at my ridiculousness. How could I be so blind?

Sheena was naked and Tina was just removing her sarong to show her sleek black body with perfectly muscled bottom that transfixed me as they embraced and kissed each other tenderly on the lips.

I stood silently for a moment, taking in the scene. Above those amazing legs Tina had a stomach as flat as a board with a hint of a six-pack but her pussy was mostly hidden by Sheena's hand cupped between her thighs. So all this time I had been wasting my time trying to spice up our love life; Sheena was already being spiced elsewhere. All through our relationship she had been scornful of lesbians, now it appeared that it had all been a cover. Protestations to conceal the reality - what a stereotype.

Sheena turned to me, erect nipples on display. "Are you happy now? Do you get it? We're in a relationship. I'm sorry. Now leave us alone for a bit."

I stayed for a few seconds but she made herself clear, "Fuck off," she spat at me.

I did as I was told, slunk off and went to the poolside.

The sun had set quickly and it was now quite dark but for the bathroom light behind me. A warm breeze drifted across the patio, giving a hint of a ripple to the pool surface, so I sat and dangled my feet in the cool water. Deep in the shadows, I was still sweaty from the journey and the shower was in use so slipped off my shorts and shirt. I climbed down the steps into the water and wallowed for a time looking up at the stars in the sky and picking out the constellations. above.

~**~

I went back into the house where the girls were on the sofa chatting. To my relief they were wrapped in towels; I was half-expecting them to be 'in flagrante'. They were discussing what we could do for a meal. Fairly obviously a restaurant sounded a reasonable idea.

The girls dressed, smartening themselves up to go out. Tina put on a 'boob tube' top and a low slung miniskirt showing off her rippling stomach. Her inevitable boots were thigh-high but without buckles. Sheena wore a print blouse and shorts.

Eventually we were good to drive into town. There was a small superb seafood restaurant on the promenade overlooking the harbour where we ate fresh grilled fish caught on the previous tide, with a local speciality of salted baked potatoes. The distant lights of fishing boats reflected in the sea as a lighthouse flashed brightly further along the shore. It really was a romantic setting.

When we were done and had finished off a bottle of red wine and a complementary brandy that came with the bill, we took a stroll. There some steps down to the beach and we kicked off our shoes to walk on the pleasantly cool sand in the dark. Tina struggled with hers and I had to pull her tight boots from her feet for her.

Three sets of footprints trailed behind us, one set larger and heavier, and another with long toes and a groove on the right small toe.

Sheena had now changed her attitude and was now apologetic about the way that she had 'come out'. The wine was getting to her, making her emotional and she insisted on taking me by the arm as we walked. Tina had been very quiet during the meal and I had the feeling that the two women had had words in my absence.

We sauntered arm in arm, Sheena in the middle. When at last we reached the lighthouse we stopped with the beam rotating above us. In the quiet shadows we rested on some rocks and looked back at the twinkling town lights. It was now late and there was no-one else to be seen. I pulled off my T-shirt and let the cool breeze flow over me.

Tina pulled her tube top down to her waist, letting her dark breasts free with an appreciative sigh. I saw that she had inserted gold rings into piercings in both nipples -- which I had not previously noticed. Jewels set into the rings glinted with the regular bright flashes of the lighthouse.

After a few moments Sheena undid the buttons on her top and allowed it to fall open, her soft pale breasts almost concealed in the shadows of her clothing. There was a rock pool for me to dangle my feet in and not much was said as we just felt the cool air in the shadows of the night.

After a while it was time to make a move. Tina had the easy walk of an athlete, wearing her top scrunched around her hips like a belt and her hair blowing in the warm breeze. She was indifferent to her bare chest, her firm boobs giving a tiny hint of bounce as she walked, the bejewelled piercings sparkling to betray their presence.

Sheena knotted her blouse at the waist, and we made our way back to the promenade, by which time I was dry enough to replace my shoes. It was still some distance from the restaurant and due to the lateness of the hour most of the other cars had now left. Tina looked about but as there were no people to be seen she carried on walking to the car topless. She drove us back to the villa, the black seat belt between her breasts, emphasising them.