This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons is entirely coincidental.
This work is intended for adults only. It contains substantial sexually explicit language and adult scenes that may be considered offensive by some readers.
No characters in this work are under eighteen years of age.
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Chapter 1
My wife Laura and I had known Pete and Donna for a long time. Laura and Donna had met in the first year at a training hospital when they were student nurses and had become firm friends, living in adjacent rooms in the nurses' accommodation. Pete was already going out with Donna when I met Laura, so it was natural that we all became friends and a solid foursome.
Over the years, we went on holiday together several times and would socialise regularly, have dinners together and even help each other out with mundane stuff like DIY.
Donna was average height, medium build, with longish dark hair. Attractive in an ordinary kind of way, her breasts were only modestly sized and she did have a tendency to rather plump thighs. So it's fair to say, that whilst we were great friends, I never really actively lusted after her. But she was a big personality! You always knew when she was in the room - or even on the same street, for that matter. Her North London genetics could make her sound very loud and brash. Most people would describe her as dominant and at times, overbearing.
Pete was the complete opposite. He was quite short, about the same height as Donna, with a very slim, boyish figure. He had a mane of collar-length hair, a matching moustache and always kept himself immaculately groomed and dressed. He was quietly spoken and was definitely the underdog in that relationship. I often wondered about his orientation, if I'm honest. One thing that Donna was always very clear about: she liked sex - a lot. She would frequently snipe a sarcastic comment at Pete, demeaning his sexual prowess and complaining about how he failed to give her what she wanted.
Laura was very slim, not far off my height, with an almost tomboyish figure, shoulder length blonde hair, long slim legs, quite small B-cup boobs, which were topped with the most perfect, suckable nipples. She had had a convent upbringing and it had been drummed into her from an early age, that just about everything about sex was Bad, Wrong and Dirty. And definitely only intended for Producing Babies. If you contravened any of the laid down rules, you were on your way to Hell, for sure.
All of which was a great shame, because when she was in the mood, she was an absolute tiger in bed. Or anywhere else for that matter. She was dominated by her monthly cycle - her horny hormones would hit her like a train, usually twice a month; around the time she was ovulating and just before her period started. When those wonderful chemicals surged into her bloodstream, she would turn from a frigid nun into a raging part-time nymphomaniac. I think she kind of hated it when this happened, because she loved it but didn't feel in control - and it was in conflict with the way she was 'supposed to behave'. But I was of course, more than willing to take full advantage of these happy situations when they cropped up, to the point where I started logging the dates of her cycle, to try and estimate when things might get frisky.
There would often be little warning... one summer evening, we had walked to our local pub and were enjoying a drink outside in the late sunshine. She excused herself, then a little later, was sitting opposite me and put one foot up on an empty chair. Allowing her summer dress to ride up her legs, she treated me to a 'Sharon Stone', displaying her naked pussy for me to admire. She had obviously slipped off her panties when she went to the loo. She fixed me in the eye, then ran her finger up her moist slit and brought that finger up to her lips and licked her juice off it - then put her foot back down, allowing her dress to become demure again. Such is the power of women over men... one glimpse of a willing and available vagina and we are irresistibly transfixed. I was turned on to hell.
Needless to say, we finished our drinks in a hurry and left the pub as it was starting to get dark. Our route home took us along a path under a railway bridge. As soon as I thought we were reasonably alone, I grabbed her and pushed her back against the wall, somehow hitching her dress up and freeing the front of my jeans at the same time. Lifting one of her legs, I parted her pussy lips with two fingers, then just rammed my cock into her sopping snatch. Her creamy juices allowed me to slide straight in, right up to the hilt. There was no foreplay, just wanton, animal lust. I wanted to stretch her cunt with my throbbing hardness, fuck her like the bitch on heat that she was, fill her up with my load. It didn't last long, a few dozen animal thrusts and I was spilling in her, shooting my thick spunk up deep inside her.
Whilst I was trying to regain my breath, and furtively glancing around to check that no-one was watching, I slipped out of her and tucked my cum-covered cock back into my jeans. With wobbly legs, we walked home hand in hand, giggling about what had happened... on the way, she lifted her dress and showed me my spunk oozing out of her and trickling down her thigh. By the time we got back, it had made its way right down her leg - a sight I found very erotic, and something I have enjoyed seeing ever since - the creamy results of my efforts dripping out of a satisfied pussy.
So our sex life wasn't without its occasional high points. Another time, we were doing the tourist thing and were visiting an old museum ship. Laura was attractively dressed in a short denim skirt and white cheesecloth blouse, with only a thin lacy bra to help prevent those lovely nips making too much of an appearance.
The old ship was frankly, pretty boring, had it not been for what happened next. I was leading the way through one of the ship's corridors when Laura took my hand and guided it between her legs. Pressing my middle finger against her pantie gusset, I could feel the warm wetness behind the thin fabric. As we walked along, I managed to ease my finger round the seam of her panties, to slip between her pussy lips. My finger was met by a delicious amount of thick, creamy pussy juice, which meant only one thing... 'I'm hot, I'm horny and I want to get fucked - hard!'
