rdinarily I wouldn't have been upset by my husband's
infidelity. After all we had never been monogamous and
both of us enjoyed the excitement of an extramarital
flirtation. We had enjoyed dabbling in the swinging
scene and visited a couple of clubs. He was turned on
by my adventures with other men and encouraged me to
be 'easy.' The only unspoken rule was that all our
extracurricular activity was outside our 'normal'
circle of friends and acquaintances.
As far as they were concerned we were a typical
suburban couple, good fun, but hardly outrageous. It
was at a party with our 'normal' friends that I
discovered that Gary, (my husband) was not quite
playing by the rules. While sitting knickers round my
ankles on the loo, I overheard a conversation between
two of the other women. Perhaps they were unaware they
could be heard, maybe they didn't care.
Anyway the jist of the news was that my husband was
shagging Sheila and that really it was no surprise.
'After all, although Lesley (me) is attractive, she's
a bit straight laced.' Apparently Gary had made this
comment, when complimenting her on her sexual
enthusiasm. 'What a bastard.' I doubted Sheila's
attitude to sex was as experimental as mine and her
tits were droopy to boot. The thing that really pissed
me off though, was that she was one of those people
who would delight in scoring points over me. No wonder
she had seemed so smug earlier. I knew she disliked me
and it made me spit to think that Gary had allowed her
this opportunity to gloat.
She would be unaware that such dalliances were an
everyday feature of our lifestyle and that she was
just one of many. Unfortunately I couldn't let her
know this without making our private indiscretions
public. When I recalled the fuss he made when I had a
brief liaison with a guy I met at a disco, but who
lived about a mile from us, I was even more livid. He
had whinged on and on about how the guy was too close
to home, how he might talk etc. It's a bit different
now, I thought ruefully. Subconsciously I was already
considering how I might turn the tables. For the rest
of the evening I maintained my sweetest disposition
and resolved to bide my time. Revenge they say is a
dish best enjoyed cold.
It was a couple of months before an opportunity to
obtain retribution presented itself. I had managed to
keep my cool and my husband was still blissfully
unaware that I knew of his latest 'bit on the side' or
that I was seriously annoyed. We were out one evening,
when Gary took a call from someone from work. It was
after eight, and I enquired who was working so late.
'It's Donk the driver, he's on a late delivery, and
was just confirming he'd got the parts to the
customer.'
Gary began to laugh and explained that Donk was short
for Donkey Dick the guy's nickname. 'According to the
women in the factory he's got a huge chopper' he
continued 'and spreads it about a bit. Mind you
they're not the classiest lot of women in our machine
shop.' he sniggered 'Then again, he's no oil
painting.' 'Sometimes,' I thought 'you're such a snob'
but I said nothing. My husband went on to enlarge
humorously on the rumoured antics of 'Donk' and his
conquests for the rest of the evening. Though Gary was
obviously hugely amused by how eager a variety of
'wives' had been to make themselves available to this
well-endowed but, in his words 'scarecrow' of a bloke,
I was sure he wouldn't be chuckling if his, and again
using his words 'classy' wife, was a notch on 'Donk's
headboard. 'Mmm.' I had the beginning of an idea.
The more I thought about it, the more intriguing it
became. How to get off with DD, let the news leak to
Gary but without it becoming general knowledge that
the manager's wife was getting shafted by the company
driver. Over a couple of weeks I managed, by sneakily
sifting through Gary's papers, to get a bit of info on
DD. His mobile number, and details of his regular runs
that sort of thing.
Now I needed a strategy to meet him. My husband had
only had this job a couple of years and I had not had
any occasion to get to know any of the workforce. They
didn't know me or anything about me, which at least
meant I wouldn't immediately be recognised as the
gaffer's missus if events went according to plan.
Conveniently I was between jobs, just doing a bit of
cover work to keep my hand in, so to speak and so had
some time to 'play' during the hours before the kids
came home from school. I had worked out that on one
day a week my quarry always travelled down the M5
first thing returning depending on 'drops' along the
same route sometime after 2.0 o'clock. My first plan
was to talk to him on the mobile, pretending I thought
I was talking to someone that I knew but then
realising I had a wrong number. Once I had spoken to
him I was sure that if he was as much of a skirt
chaser, as he was portrayed by my husband, the next
move would be easy.
Plan 'a' worked like a dream. I phoned him when I knew
he was on his outward journey. Pretending to respond
to a message from a guy trying to chat me up,
conveniently also called Brian, (DD's real name) I
rattled on, using an assumed name, suggestively for a
few minutes before he pulled me up. 'Err, I think
you've got the wrong bloke missus' He stammered in his
black country whine.
I persisted 'You are Brian, aren't you?' He explained
and I apologised for my mistake, by which time he was
becoming jokey and saying I could call him up any time
etc. I rang off. Just after lunch I rang him again.
This time we enjoyed a flirtatious little chat. I
asked him where he was he replied 'approaching
Frankley Services' 'what a coincidence so I am I, have
you time for a coffee? my treat!' He supposed 'it
wouldn't hurt.'
Standing in the entrance to the cafeteria I waited
first sight of my quarry. I had told him I was a rep
for a perfume distributor and had dressed with the
intention of knocking him sideways. Teetering on 5inch
stiletto navy sandals, I sported a little 'A' line
skirt 'just above the knee' and short jacket also in
navy, over a low cut strappy cream top. Underneath I'd
gone for ivory 'Lejaby' platform bra and French
knickers with matching suspender and seamed stockings.
Only my opinion but I thought with my size 10, 36b
figure I looked every inch the classy sales chick you
might see in Rackhams or Beatties.
DD approached, and I have to admit my husband's
description was no exaggeration. This was indeed a
shambolic looking guy. Not short, maybe 5' 10in but
unbelievably thin. He wore a scruffy check shirt
tucked into a pair of dirty blue work trousers. These
were held up with a belt cinched into his waist so
tight you thought he may fall in half. His outfit
completed with work boots the metal toecaps of which
had been lovingly polished. Facially he was a bit Mick
Jaggerish I suppose, full lips, and a mop of unkempt
dark curly hair.
His skin was sallow and though, when he smiled,
'hello,' shyly, I thought, his eyes had a cheeky glint
in them, his teeth were a disaster. At least one
missing at the front, some crooked and broken and
receding gums, Whatever was in his trousers must
compensate for some serious disadvantages if Gary's
reports of DD's exploits were to be believed. 'Hi
Brian.' I offered my hand 'Joanne, Nice to meet you,
after our strange telephone misunderstanding.'
'Oh yea' he grinned showing off his teeth to their
best effect I thought. Leading him to a table in the
cafeteria, I was aware of many eyes following this
curious couple and flattered myself the men were
perplexed as to how 'Worzel Gummidge' had landed such
a stunner. I fetched the coffees and knew my intention
had been fulfilled. Brian was clearly mesmerised by my
outfit and me.
Affecting a bit of a girlish manner, I asked him about
is job, where he went, who he worked for etc. He
responded enthusiastically, I suppose it was not very
often anyone showed such obvious interest. Slipping of
my jacket, I leaned forward conspiratorially to afford
him an unhindered view of my cleavage.' I've never
been in a truck, I bet its such fun being so high up
above the traffic. You wouldn't take me for a ride
round in yours would you?' He looked at his watch.
'Just for a few minutes?' I pleaded in my best little
girl voice. 'Well ok' He agreed 'but it's not very
clean and tidy, and there are pictures on the cab
wall, you might be offended.' 'I won't,' I insisted
and stood up to go.
He led the way through the back of the building to the
trucker's car park and a blue wagon carrying the logo
I knew so well. A few other drivers whistled as we
made our way, me almost trotting in my heels to keep
up with his ambling stride. Brian opened the passenger
side first and stood back to let me climb up. My knee
came up to my chin, to reach the first step and I
couldn't reach the pull up handle. The hem of the
skirt bunched up nicely to expose a fine sight of
stocking top and thigh. 'Can you give me a push' I
asked. Placing his hands on my hips he almost lifted
me into the cab, taking the chance for a look up my
skirt I had no doubt. He climbed in the other side,
and we were in an instant pulling off the car park via
the access road at the rear.
He was right, the cab was grimy and smelt of
engineering oil, sweat and something else. Brut
aftershave. Henry Cooper has a lot to answer for. The
picture gallery too was quite explicit. Girls being
fucked by huge cocks in the cunt and up the arse,
girls covered in sperm and dribbling it from their
lips. As we chugged along past the Bell at
Belbroughton, I ventured 'Bet you drivers are like
sailors, but with a girl in every town.' 'No we don't
have the time' laughed Brian. 'but what about hitch
hikers, don't you get a ride for a ride?' I persisted
trying to get the conversation round to sex. He
dismissed this wistfully 'You don't see hitchhikers
these days, every woman's got a car.' The truck
rounded the island at the end of the carriage way and
headed back in the direction we had come from.
The 'in car' phone rang. Brian put his finger to his
lips and pressed the receive button. 'Where are you
Donk?' I heard my husband's voice demand.' Just
pulling into the lay-by at Clent for a pee' said my
driver, and swung the lorry into a loop off the road
where I could see a number of vehicles parked up and a
few men drinking tea at a kiosk. He pulled in behind
another lorry, so we were obscured from the view of
the tea hut.
My husband continued 'don't get stopping out knobbing
some bird, we need the lorry back to load up tonight.'
As their conversation continued I decided to move
things along. Sliding to my knees in the cab, I
reached to unfasten the belt of Brian's trousers,
tugged open his zip and delved into his crotch. No
surprise, he wore no underpants. My fingers teased out
his thickening cock and I heard the strangled voice of
my companion assuring my husband he wouldn't be late
just as my lips slipped over the end of his dick
pushing back the foreskin as they went.
The phone went silent and I sucked deeply on the
drivers cock drawing it into my mouth. He was not
called 'Donkey' for nothing. Soon I had a hand-span
filling my mouth and another being gripped by my
fingers. Already my jaw ached from being held open so
wide. I felt Brian fumbling at my neck and sat up, not
wanting his grubby finger marks on my cream top.
'wait' I instructed sitting on my haunches to remove
my jacket, top and bra. Brian used the break to ease
his trousers round his ankles then leaned forward to
role a nipple between the thumb and forefinger of each
hand. 'fucking lovely tits.' he muttered as my mouth
once again slipped over his flagpole of a dick. In the
great scheme of things big cocks don't matter to me
much, but visually I find them a turn on.
His jutted out from his scrawny groin in quite an
aggressive way its broad head exposed and taut. I
bobbed my head up and down on his cock with genuine
desire. My victim lay across the passenger seat and I
felt his hand tugging my skirt up till it was round my
waist, followed by his thick fingers, unhindered by my
delicate French knickers, probing my moistening cunt.
The phone began to ring again. It rang off then almost
immediately sounded again.
Abandoning his exploration of my nether regions Brian
hit the answer button. Gary's voice again filled the
cab as Brian's fingers resumed their manipulation of
my clitoris. As he rambled on, Brian's digits suddenly
found the spot. I let out an involuntary 'oh yes,
that's it' and there was silence on the other end of
the phone. My husband's voice demanded 'have you got a
bird with you'? I could tell he was more curious than
angry, but Brian stuttered a denial as I continued to
gobble his cock.
A few more words were exchanged when Brian broke off
mid-sentence gasping 'bloody hell' as I teased the eye
of his dick with my tongue. 'You have got a woman
there' shouted Gary. 'What's going on?' Rather
sheepishly Brian admitted he was getting a blow job.
Instead of pulling rank, my husband the boss wanted to
know who she was, how had we met and was Brian going
to get a fuck. All this was on loud speaker in the cab
and I knew by his voice that Gary was intrigued by the
situation.
He continued to question my driver about me, what I
looked like, what I was wearing and asking Brian to
describe what he was doing to me, then encouraging him
to 'give her a bloody good fucking.' It was gratifying
to hear Brian breathlessly describe me as a classy
looking city bird called Joanne he'd met at the
services. 'Ask her to say hello to me' said Gary.
Lifting my mouth off Brian's engorged bell end, I
shouted 'hello' in the posh girly accent I'd affected
in my earlier conversation with Brian and hoped my
husband wouldn't recognise my voice.
Clearly he didn't but was excited by this remote
voyeuristic situation and asked me if I regularly got
picked up by drivers. 'No' I replied 'but it's always
been a fantasy of mine, and today I made it happen. Do
you think I'm a bad girl?' 'You're the best sort of
girl' responded my husband in a choked voice 'Are you
going to let him fuck you?' 'Oh I think I should,
don't you? he's got a huge dick, much bigger than my
husbands. Do you want to listen and jerk off, while he
gives it me?' There was no answer from the phone and I
was suddenly aware that Brian's tongue was vigorously
lapping at my left nipple in the same rhythm as his
fingers stimulating my cunt.
He manoeuvred me onto my back along the passenger
seats of the cab, pulled off my skirt and knickers and
I felt the end of his cock pushing at the greasy folds
of my fanny. It slid in without a pause and I was
aware of his bollocks resting against my arse. 'Oh
that is so good' I exclaimed 'are you still listening
Mr. Bossman, your driver has nine inches of fat dick
in me and it feels brilliant. Come on big boy fuck me
senseless!'
With that Brian began to piston his prick in and out
of me all the time slurping on my tits with his big
lips. I had my one leg over his shoulder and the other
foot wedged against the steering column. The springs
in the seating squeaked in unison with the squelching
of my vagina and the slap of his balls against my
behind. As no strings fucks go it was pretty
impressive and with the added frisson of having my
husband listening and probably wanking, I was well
into it meeting every thrust and then clenching the
vaginal wall as the drivers thick cock withdrew.
No doubt I was muttering and moaning as his tool
rammed relentlessly back and forth, but from the phone
my unsuspecting husband's voice applauded. 'Go on Donk
make her fucking squeal, she's some hot tart, send her
home to her husband full of spunk. The dirty slut.'
Panting I pushed Brian off. 'Let me turn round, fuck
me doggie fashion.' One leg kneeling on the seat the
other on the cab floor I bent over to present my arse
to his dick.
Without ceremony he guided it to the entrance and
again bottomed it out in one thrust before
recommencing if anything a more frantic pace. My face
was against the side window of the cab as he battered
my cunt. As he ploughed my thighs and tweaked my
nipples, I felt the unmistakable first spasm of
orgasm, shuddering in a few more relentless piercings
to a full blooded convulsive conclusion. Lipstick
smeared the glass as my face distorted against it in
unconcerned abandon. Arrg God!!!! I groaned as the
wave subsided. He too paused, mid stroke.
With a belch of smoke and a rattling roar the diesel
engine of the lorry parked in front of us sprang into
life and in the next second it was gone, giving a
clear view of the tea hut and the tea hut an equally
clear view of us. The three men standing there
momentarily were oblivious to us, but the chap in the
hut pointed our way. Donk was slowly resuming his
metronomic rhythm. 'Fucking hell' he said as the men
began to approach. 'Don't stop' I said . Soon they
were grouped around the cab standing on the steps to
look in.
Laughing and joking they shouted encouragement to Donk
and asked if it was their turn next. I attempted what
was meant to be a winsome smile as my face was once
more pushed against the window. 'What's going on'
demanded my husband's voice from the phone. 'We've got
an audience gaffer' muttered Brian without missing a
stroke. 'and I'm just about to shoot my load.' As if
on cue he jammed his knob against my cervix and I felt
the spurts of jism spattering my insides.
To the cheers of our observers I turned and took his
softening tool in my mouth and licked it clean.
'What's happening' demanded Gary. 'She's sucking my
dick clean boss.' said Brian. 'What a filthy slut
you've found there you lucky bastard.' murmured his
boss 'I wish I knew her.
I sat up 'Maybe Brian will introduce me to you one
day, you may be surprised. Bye.' I switched the phone
off. As the men outside stared at me hoping for more
action, I wound down the window. 'Shows over now boys,
maybe next time.' Brian struggled into his trousers,
started the truck and swung it out onto the highway.
In minutes we were back at the services. I had managed
to put on my blouse and skirt, put my knickers in my
bag and had a semblance of order about me.
I climbed out of the cab, again to the inquisitive
stares of the drivers of other wagons.
'Thanks Brian, maybe we can do this again? do you have
any workmates who would fancy a bit of fun with us,
but not your boss ok. Maybe I'll call you sometime.
You can tell your boss what a good time you had
though.'
Later that evening it was interesting to hear how Gary
had listened as Donk had been fucking the arse off
some cheap slut he had picked up on the Motorway
services.
Part 2
I met up with my new conquest a couple of times for
repeat sessions in the cab and made sure he gave my
unwitting husband the full picture, and while he was
not the most attractive or the most fastidious guy I'd
been screwed by, he was certainly up there with the
most well equipped. Not only that, he had an
enthusiasm for getting down and dirty that was
completely honest and a lot of blokes could do worse
than emulate this.
My lorry driver, Donk, pulled pints in the evenings at
a pub in Wednesbury, called the Fiery Holes I think.
He was mates with a bloke from the factory called 'big
Al,' who by reputation was as wide as he was tall.
Donk was organising a lock in for Al's birthday with a
few mates at the pub and they were trying to book a
stripper-gram. I volunteered and suggested they invite
their boss(Gary my husband) to 'take a look at the
slut Donk was shagging.'
Everything went smoothly and having left the kids in
the care of the Mother in Law. I arrived at the pub
just on closing time, dressed in my city girls outfit
grey pin striped suit, black seamed stockings, killer
heels and Warner's black underwear. By the time the
doors were locked, there were about 20 or so men of
all ages and variety left and I was the undisputed
centre of attention. I'm no snob but this pub was
rough by any standards and just the quality of my
outfit marked me out as from a different league to the
rest of the party.
No sign at that time of Gary. Free drinks were served,
then just after midnight Donk put on the stripper.
Corny I know but a great tune to take your kit off to.
I shimmied over to Big Al who was playing pool (or
maybe it was snooker) and pulled him into the centre
of the room. No soft lights, just functional
florescent. Swaying to and fro, draping myself over
his considerable bulk, I shed my jacket, blouse then
skirt under his nose, getting him to help with the
buttons and zips. When down to my bra, French knickers
and stockings I started on him, loosening his shirt,
unbuckling his belt.(no easy task under his
overhanging belly)
The audience completely taken by surprise, were quiet
at first but now were shouting encouragement to me and
to Al. He was grinning like a cat that got the cream,
his hands resting like bunches of sausages on my hips.
Opening his shirt I ran my hands over his immense
hairy belly and chest. He pulled me to him. I couldn't
touch my fingers behind his back. Turning my back on
him I wriggled my behind into his crotch. Al's shovel
hands came round to cup my breasts pulling the bra
down to expose them to the audience and rolling my
hard nipples between his fat fingers.
Twisting round in his embrace I deftly unhooked the
bra, discarded it and dropped to my haunches in front
of the birthday boy. His waist band button was taut
under the pressure of his restrained bulk. The tips of
my fingers hurt as they sprung it open and eased down
the zip of his jeans. I sensed the room go quiet as my
hands slipped behind to explore his buttocks. (How is
it that fat blokes can sometimes have really tight
hard arses?) Slowly I began to ease down his boxers.
His cock was in that half hard state surrounded by a
nest of curly black hair. There was an audible intake
of breath from the watching men and then a muttered
cheer as my tongue lapped round the thickening member
then drew it into my mouth. It was a pretty average as
equipment goes, uncut but no worse for that and it was
easy to work my mouth back and forth on it.
Engrossed as I was, I was only barely aware of a
change in the level of the background babble. Then I
heard someone say 'the fucking gaffers here.' Big Al
stopped my gorging on his cock and lifting me bodily,
effortlessly span me round, stripping off my silky
knickers with his other hand. Holding me under the
waist, he cursorily opened the moist folds of my fanny
before pulling me abruptly onto his cock till my
behind nestled under his belly against his crutch.
Gripping my hips firmly he jerked me back and forth on
his dick as easily as if I'd been a blow up doll. His
mates loved it.
'Dip your bread Al' shouted someone as my oscillations
became more frenetic. Every bit of me was on the move
under his onslaught. I tried to look for my husband
amongst the spectators as I was bounced around, but
without success. Attempting to steady myself I found
myself almost bent double and holding onto my ankles.
Out of the corner of my eye I spotted him at the back
by the bar. He looked uneasy. I knew this was not
because someone else was 'giving me one,' He was
always happy to watch that, but because the someone
else was one of his employees, as were many of the
audience. He would be worried lest they found out it
was his wife that was providing the entertainment.
Suddenly static, Big Al held me close into his groin
and I felt his prick pulsing inside me as he came. As
he relaxed I stepped away his softening dick flopping
into view. Brian (Donk) stepped in from the
surrounding circle of blokes, a big broken toothed
dirty grin and his prick erect, protruding from his
trousers. Turning me round to face Al he bent me over
and pushed me into the doggie position on the beer
sticky carpet. 'Come on girl, suck him back up, it's
his fucking birthday.'
With that he positioned his much more serious weapon
against my oozing cunt and began to push. His nine
inches slid steadily in as I began once again tonguing
the slimy tool of Big Al. Donk set up a purposeful
rhythm not to fast at the same time teasing my clit.
Al's rough hands kneaded my tits as I gobbled on his
flaccid member slowly feeling it respond and fill my
mouth. Soon I was the one jerking as every stroke
triggered a heightening of the sensation in my fanny.
A couple more blokes stepped forward and were wanking
close to my face, looking to me for the go ahead to
join in. Polite or what? Giving Al a rest I
accommodated both pricks alternatively until they
spasmed jism onto my face and hair. For a time, I was
there and not there, so close to orgasm I couldn't
concentrate on the now several cocks presented to me.
(after the first two it was apparently open season)
and just knelt there, head lolling and rolling with
the impact of Donk's thrusts, willing the wave of
sensation to engulf me.
Momentarily I caught sight of my husband watching my
performance, not jerking off as he almost certainly
would in any other situation , but certainly taking in
the scene albeit with some reserve. There was no
reserve on my part and as the climax took me over I
gasped wildly to whoever 'don't stop! don't stop!
don't stop! Donk took me at my word and continued his
battering until still cooing a series of oohs and
aah's I felt his cock pulsing its stuff against my
cervix. His cock withdrew and I felt its end being
smeared across my arse cheeks.
'Get in there mate' I heard Donk say and my vacant
cunt was plugged with another prick which began to
thrust vigorously. Hands gripped my head lifting it up
and a shiny bulbous knob pushed against my lips. I let
it invade my mouth and tongued it as it oscillated
through the pursed ring of my lips.
I sensed they were getting confident now and more
imaginative realising they had this woman who would
apparently do anything. 'Does she take it up the arse'
asked some bloke from behind me. Donk replied. 'Try
her, her doe say no to much, but lube her up a bit
fust.' My head was suddenly gripped tight as the cock
in my mouth jabbed violently spewing its load into my
throat. I swallowed to avoid choking. The prick
withdrew, its purple head trailing jism down my chin.
Suddenly my cunt was vacated and I felt the warm
spatter of spunk on my buttocks.
Pulled to my feet, I was hauled over to where a young
guy in a wheel chair was fisting his dick. 'Go on luv,
mek is day' commanded Big Al bending me double and
guiding my face down onto the protruding dick.
Thinking I was maybe doing a bit of social work I went
to it with enthusiasm. The chap was making all the
right noises and anticipating another mouthful of
spunk I was slowing down when without warning a couple
of thick fingers began to ream and penetrate my bum
hole.
The ease with which they slipped in reassured me they
were well lubricated. They were replaced by what felt
like a thick cock which slid determinedly past my
sphincter and up my arse. The weight of a belly on my
back betrayed Big Al as its owner as the prick began a
steady reciprocation.
'Never dicked a birds arse' I heard him grunt. Someone
behind me jeered 'Give her cunt some of this!' I felt
a cold sensation against the lips of my vagina and
realised Al was trying to ease a bottle of some sort
up me. Gently he manoeuvred it until I felt the neck
slide in. Then the pressure as he steadily pushed
until the full girth of the bottle was stretching my
cunt wide, heightening the stimulation from my anus. I
was unable to concentrate on the cock in my mouth, so
the young chap just gripped my face and jerked it up
and down on his member.
Globules of jism spluttered in my mouth as
simultaneously Big Al pulled me to him for maximum
penetration, his knob twitching inside my anal tract
as his sperm pulsed out. Almost immediately his cock
collapsed and I felt my contracting arse muscles eject
it, spunk dribbling down my legs.
There was a scramble to get at me now with every bloke
wanting a piece of the action, and the earlier caution
and courtesy forgotten. Hands grabbed and squeezed.
The wheel chair guy was pulled away and two pricks
competed for the attention of my mouth. Another larger
dick was pounding my arsehole while an anonymous hand
pulled and pushed at the bottle. I was held up by
groping hands and hard pricks placed in mine. It must
have been impossible to see me in the melee.
A second orgasm threatened, my legs began to shake and
in spite of the attendant hands I sagged to my knees.
The buggering continued as did the bottle fucking
until I shuddered and collapsed on my side. As I
spasmed on the floor my juices gushed round the
bottle. My various partners continued to probe and
fondle my body as I lay there, stimulating their
frenzied wanking. The cock withdrew from my arse
shooting its stuff over my buttocks.
One by one the remaining erections jettisoned their
contribution over me. Suddenly everyone seemed to have
had enough. I was sort of aware of chaps pulling up
their trousers and tucking in shirts as I lay in a
sticky mess on the lino.
Getting to my knees, I began to ease the bottle out of
me. Looking round I realised my husband had slipped
away, to avoid any embarrassing moments. I would have
to face him later. Donk came over and suggested a
souvenir photo.( Thank god it was in the days before
mobile phones could take pictures.) The publican
produced a polaroid from somewhere and snapped as the
blokes stood behind while Big Al snogged and groped
me. For the last photo Donk suggested I squat on the
bottle (Manns brown ale by the way), hold a dick in
each hand and suck on Big AL's prick.
By way of a finale it seemed ok. Everyone cheered and
it was all over. I began to gather my clothes and get
dressed. My stockings were ruined and Al asked for my
knickers as a keepsake. Guys were leaving in ones and
twos, coming to me for a peck and last minute fondle.
Donk walked me a little unsteadily to my car. It was
after 2.0am and I still had to face my husband.
