It Started in January

Christmas then January and Ted’s four weeks annual leave and he just couldn’t wait to get to the shack. We had bought the place a year after we got married. That was about eight years ago and we had spent every Christmas and January plus other times at the place since then.

We had got the place cheap as it was so run down. It hadn’t been too bad at first because we spent most of the time putting it in order, you know, repairs, painting, that sort of thing. That had been fun, but now all that had been done a long time ago and I must admit that the novelty of owning the shack was long over for me and I found it somewhat boring.

It was okay for Ted because he’s a mad keen fisherman, a pastime I don’t share. He’s got a boat and he goes out in it almost every day while we are there, leaving me alone in the shack. To be fair he does keep us supplied with fish, and because we freeze a lot of them it lasts the year round.

I’m not complaining about the shack itself, it’s very nice since our work on it, but ridiculously big for a just two people. It’s really two shacks. You see the people who owned it before us had bought the place like us when they first got married. That would have been about fifty years before we bought it. Then it had two bedrooms, living room, kitchen and shower. As their children came along they expanded and virtually doubled the size of the place adding two more bedrooms another kitchen/dining room and shower room.

Ted and I intended to have children. In fact we’d been trying to have them for a long time with no success. At the time in question Ted was thirty four and I was thirty and it was getting close to the time when we might have to have tests to find out if anything was wrong.

You see, the problem with the shack as far as I was concerned was its isolation. It is about three hundred kilometres from the State capital, Adelaide, and forty five kilometres from the nearest town if you needed to do some shopping.

The place itself wasn’t all that salubrious with nowhere much to walk. You could walk along the beach one way or the other way, and inland there was really nowhere to walk that was of interest.

We had invited friends, usually married couples, to come and spend time with us at the shack. The general idea was that I would have some female company while the men went off fishing. That worked fine for a while but eventually our invitations were rejected with excuses like, “Oh, we’ve made plans to take an overseas trip,” things like that. I had little doubt that they, or at least the women, found it as tedious as I did.

By now you must be thinking that I’m just a complaining bitch, but when we weren’t at the shack I had my part time job at the local pharmacy, some work for the church and a couple of volunteer jobs. So you see I was normally quite busy.

Now alongside all that negativity let me put a positive. Ted was a manager with “The Company.” It was a rather stressful job and going to the shack relaxed him. The more he relaxed the randier he got, and the randier he got the happier I was.

You must understand I am a very eager lady where sex is concerned. Depending on your point of view I am one of those fortunate women who come very quickly and frequently. During one coupling with Ted I often have three orgasms one after the other. It’s bloody agonising and wonderful.

Once down at the shack Ted takes me at least once a day and often twice, and if I get lucky three times in a day. I don’t think I’m a nymphomaniac or anything like that; it’s just that I enjoy sex, and I can’t recall a time when Ted approached me when I wasn’t ready for him.

As I’ve said, I wanted children and I held to the view that the more times Ted made love with me the more chance there was of getting pregnant. That’s a bit illogical I suppose since it only takes one of those little spermatozoa to do the job.

That’s enough about all that, so on to the time in question.

On Christmas Eve of all times we took off for the shack. Pulling a bloody great trailer with Ted’s boat on it, and the car packed to the brim with food, clothing and other paraphernalia, we headed out of our suburb.

It seemed as if everyone else was heading somewhere as well, and the roads were jammed with traffic. After what seemed like endless red traffic lights we finally got onto the main road. Pulling the boat trailer meant that our speed was limited, and one could almost feel the impatient fury of those behind us waiting to make the suicide dive past us.

After about eighty kilometres we came to a town that seems to consist largely of petrol stations and eating places. Beyond the town roads began to branch off, and taking a left hand turn we were on a relatively clear road.

Through wheat and barley country with some scattered towns we drove, and after about three hours we were on the last leg of the journey. Then at last we turned onto the track that led to the shack.

We unloaded and stowed away, and Ted unhitched the boat trailer and re-hitched it to an old tractor he uses to pull it down to the beach.

“I’ll bet he’ll be out there fishing as soon as he can,” I sighed to myself.

I was wrong.

I was in the kitchen reaching up to a high cupboard to put something away when I heard him come in. The next thing I knew he was cupping my breasts with his hands and saying, “You’ve got beautiful tits, Kate.”

Since he’d obviously handled them and sucked on my nipples many times, it might seem odd that he made that comment, but it was one of his standard approaches when he was going to fuck me.

In all modesty I must say that I had always thought of my breasts as one of my most alluring features. They are large, firm with nice pink nipples, and certainly Ted, and a couple of boyfriends I had before Ted, appreciated them. Ted would often spend ages just fondling my breasts and suckling me, and frequently went to sleep after we’d made love still holding one of them.

He started to undo the buttons of my shirt and since I was not wearing a bra he soon had my naked breasts in his hands. God I love the way he fondles them, so gentle yet so sensuous. My breasts are about the only thing about me that is big, the rest of me is quite small, including my vaginal tunnel, and that makes for an added thrill when Ted penetrates.

Ted picked me up and carried me into the old dining room that we now use as a lounge area. There we have a huge divan on which we often make love, and now he laid me on it; off came my shirt, jeans and panties, and then Ted stripped himself.

My God he had a massive erection. I could see his blood engorged shaft that appeared to be throbbing in time with his heart beat. I looked at his testicles and they seemed to be swollen with semen. You might have gathered that Ted is very well hung – very well indeed.

He came down beside me and took a breast into his hand whispering, “I’m going to fuck you to death, you beautiful slut”; another common expression with him when he’s really worked up. If I’m going to die I can’t think of a better way to go.

I pulled his head down to mine and deep kissed him, raking the inside of his mouth with my tongue. That got him even more worked up and he was pressing his body to mine and then started to suck on one of my nipples. Then when he pushed a couple of fingers into my vagina, he had me writhing and in no time I was having an orgasm – I told you I come quickly.

I must have been flooded with my female juice, but Ted swung me round, knelt on the floor in front of me and parting my legs began to give me oral sex. A minute of that and he had me going again. I was clutching at his head and yelling blue murder, screaming for him not to stop.

As soon as I’d calmed down a bit he was on top of me and probing for my opening. He knows his way in, but I like to take his penis in my hand and guide him; I suppose it’s a way of bidding him welcome.

I yelled at him, “Fuck me hard you horny bastard, make me pregnant.” He loves that; I think it’s the idea of getting me pregnant. There seems to be something special about making love when you are trying to get pregnant. It seems to add extra zest to the coupling.

I knew Ted was right on the edge and he wouldn’t last long, so I was glad I’d had the two orgasms. I clamped my vaginal muscle round his shaft, trying to suck the sperm out of him. I needn’t have bothered. He gave a loud groan and then fired into me like a cannon going off. In seconds he had me clutching at him and howling as I felt him filling me up with his sperm. I was just aware of his final grunt as he ejected the last of his baby making juice into me, but I was still going.

There are many good things about Ted that make me love him, but one stands out supreme. He never pulls out of me until he’s sure I’m finished; not like the two guys had before he came along.

Even when I have finished he’ll sometimes just lays there looking into my eyes, telling me he loves me. I hope all you ladies have the same experience because it’s so beautiful. It makes you feel really good and female and loving.

That’s how it was this time. He lay there on top of me, fondling a breast and I pulled his head down to mine and planted nice wet kisses over his face. Sometimes that would get him going again and he’d shoot another load into me. It didn’t happen like that on this occasion, but he said the most wonderful and loving things to me, telling me how beautiful I am.

Now I don’t think that it’s strictly true that I’m beautiful. I know it’s hard to be objective about your own looks, and as the Bard said, “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder,” or something like that, but apart from my breasts I wouldn’t put myself high up in the physical attraction stakes.

Perhaps pleasant best describes it. I’ve got quite nice auburn hair that I wear just to my shoulders and it does have a good natural wave in it. My face tends to be a bit long and my chin a little pointy. Green eyes, a nose a bit longer than is fashionable and it tilts up slightly at the end. My mouth is quite wide with full lips, and that’s another feature Ted tends to concentrate on, especially when I wrap them round his shaft.

As for the rest of me, well, I’m rather slim but my hips do swell in appropriate female fashion, and I often feel that that part of me is very well designed for baby making. My legs are okay but nothing special, but then again, Ted loves it when I wrap them round him.

When all is said and done, who am I to complain? If Ted loves me and thinks I’m beautiful, what the hell does it matter if others see me as ordinary? As long as he makes love with me often, I rest content, and as far as I know Ted rests content as well.

There is one thing that did disconcert me about Ted’s love making. When he’s getting steamed up to ejaculate he often says…but no, that’s to get too far ahead of myself in this account of what happened.

Ted finally withdrew from me with a sigh of contentment, but went on hugging me for a while. That’s another nice thing about him.

If he’d wanted to take me all over again I wouldn’t have objected and I’d have played the yielding female. He loves that, I think, because it makes him feel all manly and masterful, and I love it too because it makes me feel all female and giving. But on this occasion he didn’t take me again…well, not until we went to bed that night.

We were to be on our own until New Years Day, when one of Ted’s friends from work would be joining us for a week. I had never met the guy and the two of them were to go off fishing together so there wouldn’t be much company for me.

On Christmas Day Ted and I drove the forty five kilometres to the nearest town and joined the local revellers in the pub for lunch. It should have been a happy occasion, but seeing families there, husbands and wives with their children, it made me a bit sad at our own lack of offspring.

I spoke to some of the children as they told me what Father Christmas had brought them and played a few games with them until it was time for the drive back.

Ted had taken on board a few too many, and since I hadn’t drunk much I drove the car back to the shack.

Ted continued his celebrating at the shack, and that night I didn’t get a special “Christmas bonus” because Ted went straight off to sleep. I confess I did a little self relieving to quell the passions as Ted snored beside me in the bed.

Next morning Ted had a hangover so there was no “good morning” mating. He made up for it later that day when he took me on our favourite place, the divan. Really, that piece of furniture was just made for sexual intercourse.

What was notable about that day was that Ted did not go out in the boat, contenting himself with doing a few odd jobs round the shack and fucking me three times. In the days that followed Ted did go out in the boat, but not as often or as long as he usually did.

I didn’t know what had come over him, but this normally ardent and frequent lover had become even more ardent and frequent. We made love in nearly every possible way – except anally since after trying that a couple of times we decided we didn’t like it. Mind you, if Ted had liked it I would have agreed to it, and I’m sure if I’d wanted it Ted would have complied. It was like that with us; anything we wanted the other to do, we did.

With all this love making I felt as if I was in heaven. I mean, Ted always made it so exquisite for me, and I hoped I did the same for him. Let’s just say that neither of us had grounds for complaint. No…that’s not quite true. I never said anything to Ted, but it was hard to be so often filled with his baby making juice, and no baby made.

New Years Day and I heard a vehicle coming up the track. Ted was outside doing something to the boat, and after the car stopped I heard the rumble of male voices and Ted and our guest came into the kitchen where I was working.

“Kate, this is my friend Michael,” Ted said. We shook hands and I bade him welcome and then asked, “Would you like something to eat or drink, Michael?”

He was a nice looking guy, a bit shorter than Ted, but perhaps a bit broader. He had nice wavy brown and eyes coloured to match. As he smiled at me I saw a row of beautiful even teeth. To cut a long description short, he was a well set up man of about twenty eight or nine.

“I stopped for something to eat on the way,” he replied, “but I could do with a cup of tea.”

“Right,” I said, “Ted, show Michael where he’ll be sleeping and help get his things in while I make the tea.”

They went out with Ted talking about fishing. “Wow, I thought, “Michael looks as if he’ll be good to have around.” That hopeful thought was somewhat dashed for the next couple of days. The two men went off fishing straight after breakfast each day, and didn’t come back until late afternoon.

Michael’s arrival had one rather annoying aspect to it; Ted wasn’t around to make love with, and even if he had been we could hardly have copulated in Michael’s presence. True, Ted was as eager as ever at night and first thing in the morning, but it wasn’t quite the same as it had been over the previous days.

Like I said, I’m a very eager lady and the more I get the more I want. Having got used to a goodly supply of what was wanted, the shortening of the rations came a bit hard.

It was after breakfast on the third day of Michael’s stay with us that something occurred that had me a bit surprised. Ted said to me, “Why don’t you give Michael a thrill and put “The Thing” on?”

Now how to explain “The Thing”? Well first, it was a very expensive gift from Ted. It might be easier to say what it is not rather than what it is, but here goes.

It’s an item of clothing, the purpose of which is somewhat indeterminate. I mean, you couldn’t swim in it; its not something I would care to - or rather dare to - wear on social occasions. It’s not for working round the house in, and to tell the truth I don’t really know what it might be for except to expose more than it covers.

Its really two strips of thin yellow cloth tied at the back of my neck, then passing over my breasts and meeting at my groin, then as one narrow piece of cloth it passes over my vulva and my anus, then becomes two pieces of cloth again and comes round the front of me to tie low on my hips to the pieces of cloth that come down the front of me.

My breasts being so full the cloth does little more than cover my nipples, and where it passes over my vulva the cloth is so narrow and presses into my outer lips, I had to have my pubic hair removed.

As far as Ted is concerned it is not so much seeing me in The Thing as removing it that interests him. I reserve it for special occasions and Ted only needs to see me in it to get horny and start the removing process. In addition, just to wear The Thing gets me so randy I’m near to raping Ted.

So Ted’s suggestion that I wear The Thing just so as to give Michael a thrill came as a bit of surprise to say the least.

“I couldn’t do that, darling,” I said. “Michael might think I’m disgusting.”

“Of course he wouldn’t,” Ted replied, “and besides, I want him to see what a beautiful wife I’ve got. Come on do it just for me…be a sport.”

“Oh, all right, just to please you.”

I went to the bedroom and got into The Thing. It had the usual effect on me and I was a bit concerned in case my love juice started to soak the cloth under my groin.

I left the bedroom and entering the lounge area I found the two guys standing there talking. The affect on them was electric. They were both clad only in shorts, and in seconds I could see large lumps pressing against the cloth.

I suppose it did my female ego good to see the effect I was having, but it was a bit embarrassing as well. After pausing a moment I went on into the kitchen. I was regretting wearing The Thing because I was so worked up myself and saw little chance of getting relief short of doing the job myself.

I was shaking all over and tried to distract myself by clearing up the breakfast things. I felt I could hardly masturbate with the two men still hanging around, so it was a relief when I heard the tractor engine start and then move off down the track. “Thank God they’ve gone fishing,” I thought.

I waited until the sound of the engine faded, and giving them another ten minutes to get the boat launched and moving, I then made my way to the lounge. I wanted to use my favourite sex place, the divan, to deal with my now urgent problem.

Entering the lounge I got a shock. Michael was sitting there. He jumped up as I entered and I could see that he was still suffering from the effects of The Thing. In fact he was so stirred up I could see the tip of his penis just showing above the waistband of his low slung shorts.

He tried to speak, but it seemed that something was choking him.

“You didn’t go fishing,” I gasped.

“I…ah…er…didn’t feel…er…didn’t go.”

I could see he was shaking as much as I was and didn’t quite know how to go on.

I was struggling to breathe but managed to pant out, “Why…aren’t you feeling…er…well?”

Michael is a strong looking man and in his shorts and with his sun tanned body it seemed almost ludicrous to see him looking so fragile and overwrought. His legs seemed hardly able to support him and I must admit I was in no better condition.

We were in that ludicrous situation where two people, sexually aroused, are confronting each other, neither knowing what move to make next. I felt as if I was performing in some stage play farce.

I could see Michael making a tremendous effort, then out it came.

“K-K-Kate…y-y-you’re…s-s-so b-b-bloody g-g-gorgeous.”

Having got that out he seemed to become deflated and looked as if he might flee out of the room.

The Thing gave me no defence, and if he had reasonable eyesight he must have seen my love juice wetting the cloth and starting to soak my inner thighs and my nipples standing out like ripe cherries. As I said, the cloth barely covered more than my nipples and in my agitation I hadn’t noticed until that moment that one breast had slipped out completely.