Sex and the Stranger

Our opponents arrived and the game began. I’m a very competitive woman and it wasn’t long before I worked up a sweat. With a touch of flourish, I shed my halter-top and showed off my skimpy bikini. That little move made me the centre of attention of all the guys. The interns became a lot more talkative, and Oscar and Hank were flirting constantly. It puffed up my ego to know I could still catch the eye of so many men.

It was a hard-fought game. We emerged victorious and I loved winning.

We were all a sweaty mess. Hank asked if I had worn the matching bottoms to the bikini and, when I said I had, he suggested we take a dip in the lake to cool ourselves off. I told him I had to let Steve know, but that I’d probably be around in a few minutes.

I returned to my husband and it was obvious he was well on his way to getting smashed drunk and showed no signs of stopping. I told him how the game went, but all he did was grunt ‘That’s nice,’ and took another drink. When I told him I wanted to go swimming, he just waved his hand. The casual dismissal really got me steamed. He could have at least acted as if he wanted me around.

I spotted Hank and Oscar. They were already in the lake, out far enough that the water was almost up to their necks. They waved me over. I shed my shorts and ran into the water and waded up to them. They said they were glad I came by and complimented me on my bikini. Their behaviour, which was the exact opposite of my husband’s, cheered me up and made me feel appreciated. I reciprocated by complimenting them on their own trunks, which showed off their athletic bodies. They returned the favour by praising my own figure.

There were few people in the water and none of them were nearby, giving us some measure of privacy. Out of earshot of anyone else, the talk became suggestive and there was a lot of sexual tension between us. Oscar positioned himself beside me as I talked with Hank. I discovered why he’d moved when I felt his hand on my bottom.

I’ve had guys make passes at me before and I’d always politely rejected them, but the instant I felt Oscar make contact I knew this time was different. I had never been this aroused or with two men this handsome. Rather than removing the hand, I allowed it to remain there. Taking my lack of protest as encouragement, Oscar began rubbing my bottom. In response, I moved back into his grasp. After a minute or so of groping he slipped his hand under my bikini and really started fondling me. I stopped talking and closed my eyes. It must have been the silence or the looks on our faces that made Hank pick up on what was happening underwater. He joined in, grabbing my breasts below the surface of the water. He played roughly with them, tweaking my nipples through the material of the top, then moved close enough to reach behind me and loosened the tie around my back. The top remained tied around my neck and the rest floated upwards, allowing him unrestricted access to my flesh. Oscar, not wanting to be shown up, slipped a hand down my front and began fingering my pussy.

I couldn’t believe I was letting them do this to me, especially with people standing just several yards away, but no one seemed to notice. It helped that the guys played it cool, talking with each other casually while they worked me over with their hands. They were convincing actors. Me, I should have known better. This could create the kind of gossip and scandal that could harm my husband’s career. But I could not get myself to tell these two men no. No was not on the agenda. Yes filled my money-maker and my crotch. It is during these sorts of fleeting moments of sexual wanting that people often get in trouble and spend the rest of their lives saying, ‘I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me, I’m not like that.’ And this was true: I am not the kind of woman who would allow two strangers, two men I just met, to touch me this way. And it was the fact I wasn’t that kind of woman that made it more of a turn-on; it was easy to forget I was married, to forget who I was, and simply give in to this sordid passion.

Needless to say, it didn’t take long for them to bring me to climax. It wasn’t a big one. If anything, it left me wanting more. Hank whispered that he knew an out-of-the-way area in the park where we could continue things in private. I knew I should have refused, but due to how handsome the guys were and how neglected my husband made me feel, I couldn’t even manage a token protest.

The hell with it! Why not?

They gave me directions, then got out of the water and headed off for the rendezvous point using a different route. I waited ten minutes, each minute feeling like an hour, before emerging from the water and putting my clothes back on. I headed straight into the woods, growing more excited with each step. After a long walk through some overgrown trails, I finally came upon a small picnic area that had seen better days. Hank and Oscar were there, waiting anxiously or so their expressions told me. Hank said this was an older part of the park that almost no one used. Given the distance travelled and that the area was heavily wooded, I was certain we’d have all the privacy needed.

I came into arm’s reach and the two men were all over me. After a moment’s hesitation, I was doing the same. Within seconds they had me completely naked. Oscar stopped stripping me long enough to grab a blanket he had brought and threw it on top of one of the tables. Hank lifted me up and sat me on the edge, then pushed me on my back. As he sat down in front of me, I couldn’t help feeling like a meal being served. He pried my legs apart, and began eating me out like he hadn’t tasted pussy in years.

I writhed on the table and Oscar leaned over and started sucking on my breasts. I’d never had two guys before; I was sorry I had never tried it. Having a tongue buried in my pussy and my breasts sucked on simultaneously made me climax faster than I had in months. Hank kept a hold of my squirming legs as he continued lapping away through the orgasm, starting me on the way to another.

Oscar stopped working on my breasts and told Hank he wanted a taste. Hank let him take over between my legs, but instead of switching over to my breasts, he repositioned me so I was lying diagonally on the table with my head over the side. I was about to protest when he dropped his shorts and allowed his cock to spring free right in front of my face. I opened my mouth, beckoning him with my tongue. He grabbed the sides of my head and jammed half his cock down my throat. When it was obvious I wasn’t going to choke, he began face-fucking me in a way my husband never had. Despite the rough way my mouth was being treated, I was able to handle all of Hank’s average-sized cock.

It didn’t take long for me to have another orgasm but I couldn’t cry out with a cock buried in my throat. Unlike Hank, Oscar stopped eating me out as I came. I began to wonder if he was going to switch with Hank again when I felt my legs lifted over Oscar’s shoulders and his cock nestling itself against my pussy. Oscar jammed his entire length into me with one thrust. While he wasn’t as long as my husband, he was wider and I definitely felt stretched open by the rough way he took me. He hammered away as hard and as fast as he could. I hadn’t had an intense fucking like this in years, and even I was surprised by how quickly I loosened up so he could really slam away. I could feel his ball-sack slapping against my ass with each thrust. Hank stopped pumping and left his cock buried in my throat. I felt his rod twitch a split second before he began spewing his seed. It tasted good and I savoured the flavour of a man other than my husband on my tongue. It is a curious thing how every man’s semen can taste different, just like they say no one vagina is like another. Hank was a healthy man. He ate healthy and his semen tasted healthy, unlike Steve’s which had an alcohol and steak flavour. I couldn’t remember the taste of any men I knew before Steve, and there hadn’t been that many, three or four maybe, but I knew they were all different too.

Oscar was decent enough to pause while his friend came in my mouth. Once Hank removed himself, he picked up right where he left off. I came around his cock a second time, which sent him over the edge and he erupted in my pussy. Now I had the sperm of two men that weren’t my husband in me and, rather than feeling shame, I was aroused and wanted more.

Oscar pulled out and Hank was up and ready again. He rolled me over so I was lying on my stomach with my feet on the ground and my bottom at just the right height for him to mount me. He had no problem plunging all the way in and started to pound me as hard as Oscar had.

I had forgotten how great a hard fuck could be.

Oscar got on the table and waved his cock in my face. I opened my mouth and leaned forward to take it in, but he pulled back at the last second. He thrust forward again, but when I tried to suck it, he pulled away and said, ‘Damn, woman. You really want this, don’t you?’

‘My husband hardly every fucks me any more,’ I confessed.

Hank said, ‘Shit, if my wife was as hot as you, I’d be fucking her every day, every hour, every second, twenty-four seven.’ As if to prove his point, he picked up speed.

Oscar continued teasing me with his meat, leaving it just out of reach of my mouth. ‘You really are a cock-starved slut, aren’t you?’ he said.

I was ready to admit to anything if it meant wrapping my lips around that hunk of meat. ‘Yes. Now give this cock-craving slut something to suck on!’ It was a turn-on to call myself that, to be that.

He laughed and said, sincerely, ‘We’ll give you all the cock you can handle.’ He finally got close enough for me to suck him down, which I did with relish. Getting done at both ends was something else.

They lasted much longer this time around, Hank fucking me through another series of orgasms. I hadn’t come this much in years. But even he couldn’t last forever and finally shot inside of me. As soon as he was finished he pulled out and I felt empty inside. I was about to beg Oscar to take over from Hank when I felt a pair of hands on my hips and a hard prick shoved into my cunt. Confused, I released the cock in my mouth and turned around to see, to my amazement, Jack. He had a firm grip on my hips as he picked up where Hank had left off. He wasn’t the only one either; next to him were his fellow interns, Todd and Ron, who were already naked and pointing their hard-ons at me like guided missiles waiting for the final launch codes to destroy something – my pussy.

Now I understood what Oscar had meant about giving me all the cock I could handle. I wanted to complain to the guys for not clearing this with me first, but I couldn’t get mad at them, not with the way Jack was fucking me. Three more cocks were just what I needed. In gratitude, I returned to Oscar’s shaft and really went to town on him. He blew his load, but I didn’t have an opening available for long because Ron got up on the table and fed me his cock.

Now the gangbang was really on. I was a gangbang slut, just like in a porno movie. I wondered if I would feel shame later on. I didn’t feel shame at that moment and I knew if three, ten or fifty more guys showed up, I would take them all on.

The five of them took me in just about every combination possible over the course of the next hour. Ron, Todd and Jack came in my mouth twice, and Oscar and Hank managed one more time each. My mouth and throat were coated with the semen of five men, the tastes mixed together like some kind of nasty cocktail, and I felt my stomach filling up with their splooge. I thought about those urban legends of cheerleaders sucking off whole football or basketball teams and having to get their stomachs pumped because of too much semen. Maybe this was no myth after all?

But I could handle it. I could swallow more baby batter if it shot my way.

The interns were ready for more, but by then I was pretty worn out and begged off. Any protests were quickly squashed by Hank. Not wanting to anger their supervisor, the three younger guys thanked me for a great time and headed back to the picnic. Oscar and Hank were gentlemanly enough to stay with me until I got back some of my wind.

I knew I was a mess, covered in sperm and sweat. I knew I had some raunchy rancid sperm breath. Luckily, a part of the lake that was out of view of the picnickers was nearby. A quick dip in the water washed off all the obvious evidence of my gangbang. Even so, I was walking gingerly thanks to the pounding the guys had given me. It was Oscar who came up with the idea of saying I had strained something playing volleyball. Hank offered me some gum he had.

‘Gum to hide the come,’ he joked.

We all laughed.

We returned to the picnic, from different directions, five minutes apart. I stood around by a tree and thought about what I’d just done. I still didn’t know if I felt guilty because if the chance came – if, say, the three interns found me and whisked me away into the bushes – I would let them, and I would love it. The only thing I was concerned about now was what my husband would say about my prolonged absence.

It turned out I had nothing to fear since he was so drunk he hadn’t the vaguest idea of how long I had been gone or if I was even there. I sat next to him, informing him that I was sincerely glad he was having a good time, since I was having one as well.

We stayed at the picnic another hour before heading back home, Steve thoroughly drunk. I helped my husband to bed, no longer irritated with him since my itch had been scratched quite well and good.

Moondance

Rose de Fer

Fallen leaves crunched beneath Natalie’s feet as she jumped down from the stile. A neglected path led her to a small copse of trees with an informational sign about the Six Maidens. A handful of damp and out-of-focus postcards were on offer for 50p each, along with a badly drawn map of the site. An honesty box stood impaled on a post nearby but Natalie brushed past it, ignoring its request of a pound for entrance. Such places should belong to everyone. Even though the stone circle was on private grounds, she wasn’t visiting the grounds. Just the stones.

She’d only been here once before, but she remembered the way easily enough. The path wound its way up the hill, through tangles of brambles and nettles, until it opened on to a clearing at the top. She felt like a jungle explorer picking her way through the undergrowth. All she needed was a machete to slice away the thorny branches that tore at her clothes. Half an hour later she crested the rise and saw the lichen-encrusted stone circle ahead.

It wasn’t a well-known or popular site and it was certainly nowhere near as awe-inspiring as Stonehenge or Avebury. It was tucked away on a muddy hill that was difficult to find and even more difficult to get to. But its obscurity and isolation were part of the appeal for Natalie. The site rewarded those who made the journey with a spectacular view. The valley spread out before her, showing off the ravishing colour palette of October. The sun was just beginning to set. Natalie shrugged off her rucksack and began to unpack beside the large recumbent stone at the centre of the circle.

As with most megalithic sites, no one knew the purpose of the Six Maidens. The informational sign hinted at ancient sacrificial rites performed on the altar stone, but Natalie supposed that was mainly to sex it up for any tourists who ventured far enough afield to visit the site. The six upright stones faced inward, leaning towards the altar as though drawn to whatever magic had taken place there hundreds of years ago. Natalie unfolded a red blanket and spread it over the altar. Then she carefully laid out her things one by one. Candles, goblets, wine.

By the time she had finished the full moon was on the rise, glowing like burnished copper in the sky. The light transformed the stones, painting them with fantastic colours as though clothing them in gowns of fire. It was a perfect night for the ritual.

Natalie poured some Cabernet into a goblet and arranged the candles along the rim of the altar. They quivered in the slight breeze, throwing eerie shadows against the stones. Leaves had gathered at the feet of the weathered Maidens like scarlet snowdrifts and small animals scurried through them, unable to conceal their presence.

Natalie took a sip of wine and began to unbutton her dress. She wore nothing underneath. The night was chilly against her bare skin but she would be warm soon enough. She kicked off her shoes and stepped forwards, gingerly placing her bare feet on the ground. Mud squished beneath the covering of leaves as she began to dance. There was no music but the sounds of the night – the crunch of dry leaves beneath her feet and the whispering of trees in the breeze. The moon hung low in the sky like a giant eye, watching her.

She made shapes against the standing stones with her body, undulating her arms, arching her back, moving sinuously through the leaves. As a child she’d had a handful of ballet lessons, but any knowledge she’d gained had long since worn off. She simply followed her body, going where it wanted, moving as it dictated. It was like being guided by an external force, as though she were at the mercy of a powerful but benign puppet master.

Natalie had always imagined that the sensation of being naked outdoors would be scary. Instead, she found it liberating. Exhilarating. Even though there was no one to see her she felt watched by a thousand eyes. The crisp air against her naked skin, the cool mud between her toes … all of it made her feel primal and wildly sexual.

She didn’t really believe all that stuff Rhiannon had told her, that dancing naked under the full moon in an ancient site would show her the face of her true love.

‘Oh please,’ she’d scoffed. ‘I’m not after true love. Frankly, I’ll settle for a good shag!’

But in the end it had seemed such a lovely and slightly transgressive idea. How could she resist? Rhiannon had taken her along to coven meetings, read her Tarot cards and given her amulets and totems over the years. And while Natalie never really felt the presence of anything otherworldly, the pagan mindset appealed to her. She liked the idea of a religion that celebrated nature and sexuality instead of focusing on guilt, shame and fear.