New Friends

New Friends

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Recently I have been receiving the impression my wife wants to enjoy other partners. I don’t mean she wants to dispense with me — she is still very affectionate and she says that she loves me — but rather that she wants to swing. It is nothing she has said or done directly, just the odd comment I have picked up here and there, the glances she trails after people sometimes. However, the idea makes me feel extremely uncomfortable, so whenever I perceive her mind wandering in that direction I ignore or suppress it, mentioning how happy I am with her and how there is no other girl for me. And though she always responds with an appropriate degree of affection, she never exactly reciprocates with her own verbal affirmation of commitment. Perhaps it is because we were married quite young — when she was young, that is — and now that she is hitting her late twenties and approaching her physical prime, her libido is receiving a boost.

Whatever the reason, she is certainly in spectacular physical condition: with firm, ripe flesh, curvaceous, deep pink lips and rich brown hair. Her eyes are large and green, and she has the kind of figure to make any variety of clothing appealing. Like I say, I’m not too sure what the reason is, and I can’t point to any direct evidence per se, but in recent months I have just been getting this impression that she wishes to expand our sexual liaisons. All of which came to a head last week.

We were attending a party hosted by a new couple we had got to know through our daughter at nursery school. She had befriended another little girl, and my wife had had her and her mother over to play a couple of times and they had returned the invitation. The mother was a large women, not fat but tall and strong in the body, still feminine, with broad shoulders and a large, prominent bosom, long, powerful legs with thick thighs and shortish, sandy blond hair. She was the type of women to dominate a social group, loud and confident, authoritative, always well dressed, well spoken, and not one to suffer fools gladly. She was quite fun, I thought, on the few occasions that I’d met her, but I was glad it wasn’t me that was married to her; my wife was far more demure.

Her husband (whom I had only seen the once at a summer fete, but hadn’t spoken to) was small and weasel-like, with mousy brown hair and a wispy moustache and glasses. For all that he didn’t look a pushover, but the type of man to sit behind political figures; he had something of the Richelieu about him.

These two lived in quite a grand house on the edge of town, a little drive into the country. It had many rooms and was decorated in the classical Georgian style; everywhere were flowers in antique urns and delicately spindled hall tables and lounge chairs; floor to ceiling curtains of rich crimson fabric, and there was even a crest of armour in the main entrance hall.

Anyhow, this evening my wife was quite excited and was busy telling me about the place and all the rooms it had as we made ourselves ready. We decked out quite smart and set off around nine-ish, not wanting to arrive too early.

When we got there, the place was in full swing. There must have been at least a hundred guests, many of whom were spilling out into the driveway and the immaculate garden at the rear. The atmosphere was one of decadence and sophisticated revelry, with music emanating at a reasonable volume — not too loud that you couldn’t hear your conversation, but not too quiet that it didn’t feel like a party. Many of the guests were already quite drunk, and when we picked our way round the side of the house to go in via the back I noticed some of the women in the pool at the bottom of the garden were topless.

Maria, our hostess, collared us in the breakfast room as we made our way in from the patio in the back, and hugged and kissed us both warmly in welcome. You could tell she was an experienced party-giver, and was evidently unfazed and enjoying herself, despite the potential hazards on offer with so many guests (some already quite drunk) and so much finery on show. She must have caught me looking nervous because she grabbed my hand protectively. She smiled maternally at Rhianna, my wife, and said affectionately,

‘You didn’t tell me he was nervous, Rhianna,’

Then she took my wife’s hand and guided us skilfully through the revellers.

‘Come, first we must get you a drink and then I want to show you around. Your hubby hasn’t seen the place yet.’

Becky grinned at me excitedly behind her back as she led us off to the bar, equipping us with two large and impressive looking cocktails, before sweeping us off on the tour.

All the while she kept up her chatter, telling us stories attached to this and that bit of furniture, or what her children had done in this room or that — she had two elder ones from a previous marriage — and still managing to engage all of those she met on the way politely and sincerely, introducing us to the notables and fielding questions and queries unperturbed from all those Ataşehir Grup Escort she encountered: there were more glasses in the cellar, she thought; there was probably some plasters in the draw by the television in the front room; and so on.

After a while we came to a second floor drawing room. It was stylishly decorated in gold and cream, with expensive drapes and ornate furnishings. There were some bookshelves and in the middle of the room a divan, upholstered in embroidered gold velvet. On it sat two gentlemen, smartly dressed in tuxedos, handsome and rugged looking, like the kind you see modelling outdoor-wear catalogs. They rose when we entered and Maria approached them and kissed them familiarly on the cheeks.

‘Darlings,’ she enunciated outlandishly, ‘This is the girl I was telling you about. And her husband.’ She turned to the two of us, ‘Rhianna, these are the designer friends I was telling you about the other week. She smiled at my wife as she said this, and beckoned her over giving her hands to the two gentlemen by way of introduction — my wife is a web designer by trade. The two men started to make polite conversation and Maria, seeing that her intros had worked according to form, turned to me with a twinkle and put her arm in mine. ‘Now, there is still something I want to show you, too,’ she said somewhat conspiratorially, and led me towards the door way. I glanced over my shoulder as we exited, not wanting to be rude to our hostess but a little bit nervous about leaving my wife alone with two such strapping young men, with them apparently having so much in common as well, but my wife just smiled at me happily and blew me a kiss, laughing at the exuberance of our hostess and winking at me to ‘Have fun’.

With that I was whisked along the corridor and up a small flight of stairs, stepping over a couple quite far advanced in traditional ceremony of love-making at parties — in other words snogging with abandon and him with his hand creeping up her shirt. Up the stairs we passed another row of doors, with much fewer people milling about than on the lower two floors but still a couple of bedrooms that appeared to be occupied.

As we passed one open door I couldn’t help but notice two women wearing nothing but underwear, erotic underwear at that — black stockings and garters and lacy, push-up bras. They were standing at the foot of a poster bed and gliding their hands up and down each others bodies evocatively. Behind them on a some chairs and a small sofa sat a group of observers, a couple of men and a woman. My hostess just smiled at me knowingly and searched my eyes to see what reaction she found there.

She pressed me on to the end of the hallway. There, through a doorway, we came to the last room in the attic, within which was various odds and ends scattered higgledy-piggledy, boxes and furnishings of one kind or another, clearly some sort of storeroom. She led me behind a ladies dressing screen where she turned to me directly and put her arms about my shoulders.

‘Now I’ve brought you up here because ever since I met you I wanted to invite you over…’ She delicately flicked the hair from aside my ear and moved forward closer to me, heaving her gigantic bosom against my chest. Despite finding this incredibly erotic, for some reason I pulled back a bit, knocking into some boxes behind me.

‘Oh don’t worry,’ she assured me, stepping forward again and pulling me towards her by the lapels of my jacket, ‘I’ve cleared it with your good wife and she said it would do you good to get a good seeing to from another women. She said that you’d probably be too embarrassed to do it in front of her, however, so I should sneak you away on your own for the first time, in order to make you feel comfortable.’

Her hand was tickling up and down my chest suggestively and she’d put on a bit of a pout; it didn’t altogether suit her powerful frame, but nevertheless she managed to pull it without incongruence.

‘But what about your husband?’ I stammered feebly, trying to extricate myself sideways towards the door.

‘Oh, don’t worry about him,’ she laughed, ‘We have a very open relationship. He’s probably downstairs right now, having his way with some strumpet or other. And if he isn’t he will be later, I’ll make sure of it. We’re perfectly comfortable with each other. Didn’t you notice what kind of party this is?’

Suddenly I began to get rather nervous, and backed away concertedly, ‘Still, I’d better just check with my wife,’ I asserted, leaving her jacket in my hands as I twisted free, ‘I wouldn’t want to get this wrong and have her upset for cheating.’ And with that I darted desperately through the door.

Quickly, I trotted back down the hallway the way we had come, unable to resist another glance in the bedroom where the two women were now coiled on the bed together, their lingerie scattered across the floor and bedspread. I moved swiftly, skipping down the stairs and squeezing passed the couple who were now standing in the archway Ataşehir Manken Escort of the stairwell, one of her legs up around his waste and him grinding away at her jerkily. I didn’t check to see if they were actually doing it yet.

When I got back to the room where we had left my wife, however, I was shocked to find the position she was in. But before I could react, our hostess came up behind me and held me to her, restraining me securely with an arm across my chest and a hand around my waste reaching down to my crotch.

My wife was standing before the divan, one of the men she had been talking to close behind her and the other kneeling at her feet. The man behind her was caressing his hands up and down the sides of her torso and kissing her delicately on the neck, and the one at her feet was sliding his fingers up and down her smooth, bare legs. Each time his hands went a little further up under her dress, before slipping back down again to the straps of her shoes about her ankles.

My wife herself didn’t look at all perturbed. Quite the contrary, in fact, as she had her eyes closed and was lolling her head back, ruffling her fingers through the hair of the man in front of her and emitting small murmurs of pleasure.

Maria, meanwhile, kept her forearm strongly across my chest, hand flat on my breast to restrain me, while the other she slipped down the front of my trousers and cupped my genitals securely in her palm. She had large hands, and, paralysed briefly by the contradictory emotions stirred by the scene set before me, I could feel myself swelling to an involuntary semi-erection. My penis quivered with indecision, unsure whether as to burst forward in excitement or cower in submission.

Meanwhile Maria began massaging and squeezing it rhythmically, encompassing the whole of my ball-sack and tickling my perineum with the tips of her long, elegant fingers. She had even more strength in her body than I figured, and there was something else that stayed me in being pulled to her so, something else that prevented me from lurching forward and wresting my partner from the caresses of the two strange men. Somehow, between here and the upstairs room where she had accosted me, Maria had removed her dress and was now suited in an expensive looking black satin bustier. It incorporated a lilac paisley pattern with lace garters and her legs were covered by buff coloured stockings. The bustier shunted her big bosom upwards to display her cleavage magnificently . I could feel it heaving heavily as my back pressed against it.

Meanwhile my wife seemed to be slipping ever deeper into the throws of a trance, occasionally raising her eyelids enough to cast me a furtive glance, before closing them again and submitting herself to her evidently increasing desire.

By now her dress was down at her ankles, and the man at her feet was nuzzling his face between her legs. The gentleman behind her was groping her titties through her bra, which was made only of the finest meshed material, and still kissing her neck and shoulders provocatively. She was positively squirming with pleasure by now, and the moans she made were getting louder and more articulate. With her hands she now ruffled the man at her feet’s hair vigorously, pressing him into her as she did so and gyrating her buttocks against the crotch of the fellow behind her.

Presently, after removing her brassiere and allowing her perfectly-formed tits to pop out buoyantly into the air, nipples pink and swollen, the man on the floor rose up from his kneeling position. He slid his face up her body as he did so and kissed her heavily on the mouth. His tongue slurped forcefully across her lips and into her mouth, and she responded amorously by sucking on it and smearing her lipstick slightly on his face.

Next, the two men led her to the divan where she knelt down obligingly on all fours. The man who had so far been behind her then pulled down her panties to the crook of her knees, and swiftly removed his own clothing. His penis was enormous: long and fat, and fully erect; Maria and I could clearly visualise its every ridge and vein throbbing powerfully even from our distance near the doorway. My wife gasped when she saw it, but did not flinch when he started to insert it inside of her. Slowly and steadily he slid it into her pussy. The gentleman before her stroked her face encouragingly, and held the side of her head to his crotch, while she bit her lip and thrust her body back diligently, clearly determined to take him in all the way up to the hilt.

Now, my penis is a fairly decent size, and often my wife has complained a little that it is too big for her sometimes if I am not gentle. But this man’s was something else again, and I was amazed to see the way she assiduously persisted in taking it fully inside of her, letting out little gasps and yelps, half of pain and half of pleasure, as he worked it all the way in. I knew from experience how tight her pussy was, and it must have been straining to the point Ataşehir Masöz Escort where she would have felt every bump and ripple of his big cock, stretching to fit him like a surgeon’s glove.

Then he started bucking back and forth gently. Guiding her motions tenderly and patiently with his hands about her waste, slowly but steadily he pumped his massive member in and out of her moist and eager quim. She closed her eyes and let out more murmurs, whispering faintly,

‘Oh God!’ and ‘Oh yes!’ and tossing her hair back and grabbing and scratching at his buttocks with her one free one hand. And as she got into it, so he increased his motions slightly, until they both discovered a happy rhythm together by which they could buck and grind assuredly.

As she settled in to the ride the man behind her was giving her, Rhianna then turned her attention back to the fellow in front of her, whom had been tenderly stroking her hair and removing his shirt in the interim. Now she tried with her one hand — unsteadily supporting herself with the other on the divan — to undo his belt buckle and fly buttons. In this she was frustrated, however, unable to achieve it, and growled impatiently up at him. He smiled down at her in amusement and soothed the side of her face with his hand in a patronising motion.

‘Don’t worry baby, you can have it,’ he assured her. My wife nodded eagerly, and with that he undid his belt and trousers and dropped them to the floor.

His own penis now popped dutifully to attention, and she took the tip of it impatiently into her mouth, darting her tongue about the underside of his bell-end delicately, before slowly but surely working the whole shaft deep into her gullet. Once it was in there, and she had both holes fully engorged, she let out a long deep murmur of satisfaction.

I stared on in shock, somehow still able to recognise my wife within this wanton woman who had emerged in her stead. A new, deep well of lust and arousal had somewhere been discovered, that must have been laying dormant all this time, but which now overflowed her, turning the quite prim and proper, mild-mannered and demure woman that I used to know into this lust-intoxicated vixen, happily bucking and gyrating before me to the tune of some other man’s cock. This said, however, somehow she still managed to retain her natural air of sweetness and innocence, never once appearing vulgar or degenerate; even while she was fucked vigorously from both ends by two strange men. Through it all she was beautiful and feminine, delicate, exuding a charged and contradictory set of impressions, both of a nature that was entirely liberated, but at the same time wallowed in subjection.

By this point our hostess had managed to remove my trousers and boxers to down around my ankles and was wanking me steadily, clenching my penis firmly in her large hand and stroking it surely up and down, gripping the shaft tightly so that I could feel the tantalising sensation of my foreskin pulling backwards and forwards over my bell-end. A dewy droplet of pre-cum glistened at its tip, which she then circled with a finger, coating me in its soft and silky moisture.

On the divan my wife and her assailant from the rear were now reaching fever pitch. Rhianna had ceased her oral ministrations, and the man whom she had been servicing had quietly moved round to the side of the divan where he whispered encouragements or obscenities in her ear (I could not tell). She now sat upright on her knees, arching her back into the gentleman behind her and tossing her head about wildly.

He continued to pound away at her steadily, increasing his speed a little and supporting her with one arm round the midriff, while with the other he groped at her bosoms haphazardly. She bit her lip and shuddered as the orgasm started to take her, crying out and squealing some as he jerked and stuttered inside of her, thrusting his penis all the way in and mauling her buttocks with his fingers.

I almost felt the ejaculation myself as his giant cock unloaded deep in her pussy, and she bucked upwards at the force of it, before wilting down slowly on top of him and shuddering as her own climax gradually subsided.

After hanging together a while and recovering themselves, he slowly pulled out of her. His long glistening penis emerged sticky and dripping with both of their juices. She twisted slightly away from me to rest her elbows on the side of the divan where the other gentleman was still standing, and he stooped to kiss her warmly on the mouth.

Instantly she seemed reinvigorated, and, kneeling before him, proffered her bosom up with one hand on each titty, signalling for him to shoot his load over them. With her cute little derriere now turned towards us, and my own penis straining in the grip of our hostess’ expert fingers, I could see the spunk slowly starting to ooze from my wife’s vagina, dribbling down her pussy-lips and dripping gradually onto the tops of her creamy inner thighs.

She cocked her rump and wriggled it provocatively, squirming and murmuring in a bid to entice the fellow to cum all over her tits. He masturbated furiously in front of her, staring down into her large green eyes as she grinned coquettishly back up at him, kneading and fondling her breasts forcefully, and twiddling her hard swollen nipples.

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