Different Strokes

No two marriages are the same. Two complex human beings, each with their own wants, needs, and desires attempt to conspire together so that they and their children, if they have any, have a life as rewarding as possible. Against this pursuit of happiness is amassed the troubles of life.

Looking back now, I regret some things that I have done, but I have been blessed with a most unusual husband. Many look at a storm from behind windows. He walks in it, singing. Follow me into the storm, so you can look at life from both sides.

After being married for ten years, I finally had all the pieces of my life, as I wanted them. We were in a huge, new, twenty-six hundred square foot home. The kids were doing well in school. His job was secure. Yes, he worked long hours, which seldom saw him home before seven.

I was in the adventure of my life. For a housewife that means sex. Up until that time, I had sex with my share of men. Closing my eyes, as I think about them, their faces, voices, and smells change, but the sex itself does not. I had come to the conclusion that all men came from the same cookie cutter. If their cookie cutter was a size ten, my cookie was a size twelve.

The University employed me. I interviewed for the position of office manager for the provost office. As you might imagine, it was a very formal office. Everyone was Doctor this, or Mrs. Snyder that.

At first, I was not sure if Dr. Tomlinson, the Provost, was coming on to me. It was a look, here. Bending close to my side to instruct me about a letter, there. His Platinum Chanel cologne was intoxicating. I had never been around a man like him. His dress, mannerisms, speech, and polished interpersonal skills awed me. In so many words, he reeked power.

I started to fanaticize about him taking me out. I did not think of being in bed with him. It was he and I eating in a luxurious restaurant, with him focusing his attention only on me, as he held my hands. Crazy, huh? Women’s delusions?

Out of the blue, he said, “Mrs. Snyder, there is a conference on Mackinac Island this Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday. I would like for you to attend, if you can arrange things at home.”

“It would be no problem, Dr. Tomlinson, there is a college girl that I can hire to stay with the children.”

“Very well. We will depart at six thirty Wednesday. I can pick you up at your home.”

“That is very considerate.”

Later, I would come to feel that he was one bold man to come to my home, meet my husband, shake his hand, and leave with his wife, knowing full well that he intended to screw me.

New to university conferences, I was surprised to learn that all conferences end at noon, so that the conferees can socialize during the afternoon.

As we walked to the elevator, just after noon, Dr. Tomlinson said, “Mrs. Snyder. May I call you, Jan? Why don’t we go to our rooms, change into something casual, and I will meet you in the Lake Michigan room for lunch?”

“Jan is fine. Yes, I would like to freshen up.” Later thinking back on that conversation, I thought, yes, dear Dr. Tomlinson does not want to eat a pussy that has been fermenting in its own juices since six this morning.

We spent over an hour eating. For an everyday housewife, who cleans, cooks, looks out for every dollar, it was immense to be here with this man being wined and dined. Our rooms cost two hundred and seventy dollars a night. This meal was a sixty-dollar event. Putting on the Ritz, as I had imagined. At that moment, I thought that I was a Queen.

What I was, in reality, is a thirty-five year old woman who being married and confined to his office was a perfect subject for Dr. Tomlinson to seduce. There was no down side for him. Change offices? No job at the University would pay me as much as I was now making. If he knocked me up, and I realized that it was he, not my husband, I would shut up. Of course, I would. And there was a big plus for him. There was a chance that I would become addicted to his cock.

What are you talking about? You ask. It is quite simple. Dr. Tomlinson, Or Fred, as I will refer to him, has an unusually large cock. I would go so far as to say that it is the most perfect cock that I have ever seen, even on the Internet big cock sites. For a woman, cocks are like tires on a car. You need the right size. If your pussy is short and narrow, then a large cock hurts. I needed the off road, all weather truck tire size cock. Strange that an inch here and there can make so much difference, but it does. In my case, my husband has never hit my cervix either with his cock, or his fingers. In fact, up until that day on Mackinac Island, no one had, except my OB/GYN, and therein lays the rub. I knew that there was something down there that made me hot as hell if you pushed and tugged at it.

When still sitting eating lunch with Fred, the thought occurred to me that he might come on to me that night. I studied him, as he chatted with me. He was forty-five, medium sized and attractive. I thought to myself, well, yes, I would let him have his fun.

Then, I changed my mind. Wait, I thought. Get real. How would it go at work? Would he use you and then fire you? Would he want to do it again? Would my husband, Paul, suspect? Life is never simple.

Fred broke my line of thought. “Jan, you should see the view of the lake from my room? Let me show you.” He stood up, offering his hand.

I went with him.

Entering, I walked over to the window. The view was breathtaking. There were two rockers on the veranda. I sat in one.

“Jan, care for a brandy?”

“Yes, I would love one.”

By two-thirty, I was on my fourth. “Excuse me, I must use your bathroom,” I said.

I had to go both ways. It took over ten minutes. Ten minutes that I, now a little inebriated, had to contemplate what would happen next. I stood looking in the mirror.

In my mind, it was crystal clear. Fred would want to have sex with me the moment that I walked out of that door. I undressed. I held my hands under my breasts. My gaze fell to my tummy, which was enlarged by the skin left over from the birth of my children. Finally, below my tan line was my full pussy bush, which I had not trimmed since last summer. Fred would soon know that my reddish-brown hair was my real color. I put my finger in my pussy. It was soaking wet. I did not need any foreplay. I whispered to the mirror, “Let’s go fuck, shall we?”

Fred stood in the middle of the room, naked, with a glass of brandy, slowly sipping it. The window was open, allowing the warm spring breeze to blow the curtains. The aroma of apple blossoms, mixed with fragrance of lilacs make it seems so peaceful, so perfect for two people to have loving sex.

I walked over to the bed. “Ready,” Is all I said?

Fred stood looking down at me, still sipping his brandy. “You are a lovely woman, Jan Snyder, even lovelier than I had imagined.”

After setting down his now empty glass, he climbed onto the bed. His cock was still flaccid.

“Jan, why don’t you play with Little Fred for a while. He really enjoys a beautiful mouth on him.”

Fred sat by the headboard. I took Little Fred in my hands. I had never given anyone, even Paul, a blowjob. Little Fred was still not much to look at. I should have looked closer. Little Fred, flaccid, was longer, and as thick as any cock that I had ever seen. However, Little Fred was, as all flaccid cocks are, velvet soft, warm, and so very tender to the touch. Looking up into Fred’s eyes, I put the end in my mouth. Slowly, I ran the end of my tongue around and around the head, while sucking. I did not know it at the time, but blowjobs would become part of my job description.

The part in my mouth grew larger. I looked down. My God. I sat back to stare at it. As I did so, Fred pushed me backward. In one smooth motion, he lowered his body onto mine. Chest to chest, his hands opened my pussy lips. He held them apart with one hand, while guiding Little Fred to my hole with his other hand. Even as wet as I was, there was resistance for him to get the end in. When he was two inches in me, he kissed me tenderly. He was a very tender lover. He kissed me on the lips, neck, breast, ear, and mouth. All the while, with gentle shoves, he was lowering Little Fred into me.

More and more, I became aware of my vagina. It was like a hand was moving the whole thing gently in and out. Then he reached my cervix. When he reached that point, he would add a short hard thrust. I stopped kissing him. My eyes were closed. My mind was on my vagina. His every twitch, slide, rolling of his ass moved all my insides. Then, he buried himself into me. For five minutes, he just rolled his ass in a circular motion, which drove my G spot crazy.

I started to orgasm. The damn windows were open, so I pulled the pillow to my face as I moaned, “Oooohhhoo, God in Heaven, don’t let it ever stop.”

Fred pumped through my orgasm, then he allowed himself to pump his cum into me. We lie side by side for some time, not saying a word.

“Time for you to suck Little Fred again?”

I put all of the soft Little Fred in my mouth. Little Fred with my pussy juice, and Fred’s cum all over it. I thought to myself. Anything to get more of that wonderful cock into my pussy. Wednesday afternoon, evening, Thursday afternoon, and evening, we fucked continually like college kids do.

We drove back home Friday afternoon. Just before we got to our city, we stopped at Fred’s camp for yet another round.

Addicted? Yes, you could say that I was addicted. I stopped worrying about my family. Sure, I gave Paul sex anytime he wanted some. As he would be pumping into me, I could think of nothing but Fred’s cock. I stopped thinking of Fred as an attractive man. Fred was the keeper of my friend, Little Fred.

Fred’s wife was employed at a jewelry store ten miles from our city, and South of the city. Fred’s camp on Clearwater Lake was East of the city. Almost every noon, we would go out there, eating a grinder on the way, wearing towels on our front so as to not make a mess. By the time that we got there, we were ready. He would drop his pants. I would scoop up Little Fred, while saying, “C’mon Little Fred, Jan needs you to be long and hard for her pussy.”

By the time he was up, I was wet. I was used to Little Fred, so Fred would ram that thing right into me.

No open windows. No neighbors. I was a meowing cat being serviced, continually voicing my pleasure at the fucking. Fred face would become tense, hard, as he pounded his cock into me.

This went on for over a year. As far as I was concerned, it could have gone on until I was too old to do it. But, life throws curves at you. Paul came home one day with the news that he had accepted a major promotion in another state.

We moved. Our new home was just outside of Tampa. I went into severe large cock withdrawal. Don’t look. You won’t find it in the medical journals. Like a lot of other female problems, doctors have neither diagnosed nor found a cure for S. L. C. W.

The woman becomes crabby. She is inclined to withhold sex from her other for reasons that both know are phony. Paul and I grew apart. There is only one cure, but even that is evasive. Men, after all, do not go around wearing a sign denoting the length and girth of their Little Fellow.

We went to a party where few knew us. It was easy to tell that many of the women were on the make. By one AM, most people were high. In the backyard, I saw the hostess on her back with a guy between her legs. I danced with a guy. He put his hand on my ass. I said nothing. He ran his hand over my left tit. I said nothing. Got it, Big Guy? Do me, hurry, I was thinking. He pulled me into a small office. On the floor, he lowered my pantyhose, and than lifted my legs so that my pussy was exposed, sticking in the air. He plunged his fat cock into me. Oh, Boy, did it feel good.

“Fuck me, c’mon push.” I cum twice in just a few minutes. He got off, helped me up, and after giving me a kiss on the cheek, walked out the door to rejoin the crowd. I needed more.

The host was a big, good-looking guy. I walked up and whispered into his ear. “I have not seen any of your bedrooms.”

Turning with a smile, he said, “Really? Well, I have been remiss as a host not to invite you to a bedroom. What did you say your name is?”

“Not that it matters, but my name is Jan.”

Once in the master bedroom, Walter, his name was, wasted no time removing my pantyhose. My cunt was wet from my juices, as well as the last guy’s cum. Walter took a look at it. “You like multiple partners?”

“I don’t know.”

“Ha, ha, ha, well, someone has left pecker tracks in your pussy.”

For the first time since leaving Fred, I felt a cock deep in me. I had cum, and Walter was about to cum with his eyes closed, and teeth clenched, when I looked over his shoulder. Paul was in the doorway, with his arms crossed, watching Walter fuck me.

When Walter finished pumping his cum into me, he rolled off, and was surprised to see Paul standing there. He tensed, not knowing what Paul’s reaction would be. Paul calmly said, “Hope that I’m not interrupting things? She is a good fuck when she wants to be. You are welcome to fuck her anytime that you wish. In fact, it might be fun to see her take on the multi partners that you asked her about. Line up some really big cocks, and give us a call. Here is my card, as well as my e-mail address.”

As Paul started to turn, Walter hailed him. “Hey wait. If you mean that, I can set you up with the Tampa Gangbang Boys?”

I stood with my mouth open. Paul, quick on the pick up as usual, said, “Tell me about them. Are they clean, careful, and do they really have the meat?”

They are all service guys out of Mac Dill. They get a medical check ups every six month. As for the meat, trust me, they have the meat. You can come along and watch.”

‘Yes, yes, I think that would be interesting. Where does this take place?”

“Private residence in the basement. They have a twelve by twelve mattress in the basement.”

“Give us a call with a date and time. “

“Be on a Friday or Saturday night. Jan may be a tad sore the next day. It will go on until the guys can’t get it up any more.”

Not a word was said on the way home. We got into bed. Paul took off my bedclothes. He ate my freshly washed pussy. Then, gently, he fucked me, slowly, tenderly. I could not imagine what he was thinking, but at least he had not thrown me into the street. He fucked me the next night, and the next. Always loving, tenderly, he would stir my insides.

Walter phoned. He could not attend, but had arranged it, as he said that he would. It was on for Saturday night, starting at nine PM. There would be five of them, all with eight, thick inches of meat, which was at least four and one half inches around. He e-mailed pictures, which revealed five men with hard, rippling muscles, adorned with very thick, long meat.

Paul got out a ruler. He was six inches, and was two and a half around. Turning to me, he said. “I figure that Walter is about seven inches, maybe three around.”

Then, he dropped a bombshell on me. “How big was your noontime fuck, Fred?”

I was stunned. “How… How could you? How did you? How long did you know?

“Tell you later. How long was his fucking cock?”

“It was exactly seven inches. He was so proud of it that he had me measure it.”

“Well, it is Showtime. These boys have another inch in length, as well as being nearly twice as thick. I am going to tell them that I want to see them bury their cocks into you until the only thing that I can see is balls.”

It took forever for Saturday to finally arrive. I put my hair up in a bun. I had my nails done, and had a facial. Carefully, I trimmed my cunt hairs. I put on a slinky red velvet dress that I purchased at Victoria’s Secret. My bra was black, as were my garter belt, hose, and heels. I hoped that the men would find me attractive.

I kissed my husband. “You are the sweetest man alive to let me enjoy my sexuality. Thank you.”

We arrived at the home. It was a mansion. The men who met us were all wearing casual attire, with a sport coat, shirt, and slacks. They put me at ease immediately. One kissed my hand, as he said, “My, my, but you look lovely tonight.”

Another said to my husband, “We are very fortunate that you are willing to share this beautiful woman with us.”

We were sitting around making idle conversation. A stunning younger woman walked into the room. She walked up to Paul. Extending her hand, she said, “Hello, I am Brenda Day. Walter suggested that you might be interested in entertaining me, while your wife is busy with these gentlemen.”

I could not take my eyes off her. Brenda Day was no more than twenty-five. She had coal black hair, which contrasted with her beautiful white dress. Her figure was that of a college girl. Her completion was flawless. She and my husband were to spend the evening together?

As they walked out together, I hardly noticed that a man had taken hold of each of my arms and they were leading me downstairs. All five of them converged on me at once. My dress came off. Soon, I was in bra, garter belt, hose, and heels.

The first man naked was Tim. His cock was flaccid. He softly said. “Jan, come over here, Sweetheart.”

He bent me over the sofa, so that my mouth could reach his cock. I put a couple inches in my mouth. Tim placed both hands on the back of my head forcing it lower. John, a short stocky man came up behind me. First, He ate me, and then his fingers were in me. Slowly he inserted himself into me. I was so busy wondering how much of Tim’s cock he expected me to suck that I was not paying attention to what John was doing with my pussy.

As his cock slid into me, two other men picked up my legs, while spreading them, so that I was in mid-air, face down, with just the area of my chest just below my breasts resting on the sofa back.

Reaching up to grab my shoulders for leverage, John, who did not have to support my weight, could concentrate on the one thing that he wanted to do most. That was to run his cock, with all the force possible, into my cunt.

I had no control over anything. The only thing that I could touch was Tim. He was now face fucking me. My fanny was being thrown around like a puppy would toss a rag toy. My tits were bouncing against the sofa. John’s cock was plunging into me right up to the balls, as Paul had requested. My cunt was filled as never before. I was a woman in heat.

Tim cum in my mouth. I felt my own orgasm starting. It had been a long time since I had an orgasm like this one. I was bucking, thrashing, as John flung my body up and down slamming his cock into my throbbing cunt. John cum. He was immediately replaced by a guy called Buzzy, who was just getting started as I entered full orgasm. That, Boys and Girls, if you have never experienced it, is the zenith of sex, to have eight, thick inches of cock pumped into your pussy by a horny, hot, fresh man, as you are in full orgasm, with your cunt, swollen, constricting, your body shaking, with your breath coming in gasps.

It did not stop. They had just started. My bun fell apart so that my hair was in my face. I broke three fingernails clutching either the sofa or the bed as they threw my body around while fucking me.

Cum ran down my legs. Cum was all over my face. I had cum in my hair. I was covered with sweat, as were the men. At just pass midnight, they carried me to a shower. We all cleaned off. Then we had a beer, and some finger food.

I thought that we were finished. “Should I call my husband to let him know when to pick me up?”

“That won’t be necessary. He and Brenda have a closed circuit TV that has shown us with you. They could fuck, and watch you at the same time. See the camera over there? Plus there are two more cameras, there, and there.”