My Wife's First Date with Another Man--Sempre Fi
I had mentioned it many times before to my wife of eight years;
I'd always wanted to see another man fuck her brains
out. It could have been the perscription pain killers she
had started that Friday afternoon for her back pain mixed
with too many Kamakazis, but I think it was her pure attraction
to his handsome looks and BADA BING T-shirt. She quickly
asked me if she could take him home with us (like he was a lost
puppy) and before I had a chance to even answer, she was jogging
over towards his direction. As I stood motionless beside
our truck, I could see the head nods and obvious signs of
acceptance. My mind was racing with confusion and jealousy.
When she returned, out of breath from the 15 yard jaunt,
I hoped it was from her pack-a-day habbit and not his Abercrombie
& Fitch looks. Ten minutes-he'll meet
us at the strip club in ten minutes. She gasped like
a teeny-bopper would over INSYNC. As we sat at the nearest
bar at the Gentleman's club down the street, he strolled
in with his sidekick friend exactly seven minutes later--he
wanted it bad I could see. One lap dance for her from her favorite
dancer and we were home in 40 minutes and 8 Kamakazis later.
Five feet through the front door she had her top off and was
whipping around for his cock. I ran into the bedroom to find
the video camera, I wasn't going to miss any of this
I told myself. When I returned, he had his shirt off and she
was already straddling him on the living room couch as Stuart
Scott read off baseball scores in the background.
She had
his dick out of his shorts before Stu could say Booya!
As I held the video evidence device with a steady hand, I
began to notice all of his painfully large tatoos. I got
around in front to see the size of his uncircumsized member.
She quickly ripped open a Trojan package with her teeth
and threw it on like it was a hand grenade ready to explode.
The LARGE Trojans I had always been confident purchasing
at the local drug store fit him like O.J.'s glove. It
was obviously too tight and small, but like everyone else--I
couldn't believe it and I figured he was faking the
whole too tight thing. Smoke and mirrors
and two viagra on the way over I thought--nobody has veins
that big down there. I looked at my pathetic biceps that
I had promised to reshap over the weekend and noticed that
the biggest vein on my bicep was half the size of his blood
road flowing through his 9 cock. She rode him in that
position for about 20 minuets, sweat pouring down her face
and back. When she stood, I knew she wanted a cigarette,
but that would be like running a marathon and lighting up
at the halfway point. She grab a water bottle, gulped it
down like a prize fighter and jumped down to her knees, Fuck
me doggie style! He was behind her before I could
hit the record button on the video camera to capture the
moment again. From here I could really see his incredible
physique and conditioning.
He was barely breathing as
he pounded his balls against her ass cheeks over and over
and over. She had a look of pain on her face; maybe her back
I thought, but the way she was gentley biting her lip-I knew
she was loving every last inch. In the doggie position it
was amazing how far back he would leave her ass. And then
the Grind happened. He would pound her into submission
with the long stroke artillery, and then before she could
catch her breath, he'd crawl up really tight behind
her wrapping his arms around her chest and just press and
hold. She moaned and cried, AAAHHH! FUCK ME!
My dick was so hard at this point. I could see her ass pushing
back against his Grind technique: two opposing forces
in an equal and opposite state. Einstien would've
been proud. He pounded and Grinded her for another 20 minutes
and I was hoping the final completion. Unfortunately,
she grabbed some more water and flushed it on her face like
a triathlete and jumped back into the saddle position.
His naked ass sat on my couch with a one-eyed bandit starring
into space. She rode him another ten minutes or so until
he spun her around and finished the job. In the end, she was
sitting on him, kissing him passionatley with small strokes
up and down. When they both came (her first-of course) and
then his final explosion-they both collapsed into each
other's arms liked two tired heavy weights on pay-per-vision.
It was an exhausting ride; mostly for her, but I knew he was
having the time of his life. Later we found out he was a US
Marine who had already been to Iraq once and was scheduled
to go back in a couple months. All I know is that my wife and
I have performed our USO duty for the next ten years. Funny,
some how I feel like Bob Hope is looking down on me from Heaven
with a great big smile singing From the Halls of Montezuma
To the Shores of Tripoli;
We fight our country's battles
In the air, on land and sea;
First to fight for right and freedom
And to keep our honor clean;
We are proud to claim the title
of United States Marine.
Damn, I can't even watch the NFL anymore because they
have too many The Few, The Proud, The Marines
commericals. Sempre Fi! I guess...