Ann and Hank are 20+ year friends of mine. They are white, mid 50's, empty nesters. The wife had been a kindergarten teacher for years. Ann was a full figured red head. Ann was about 5'5", 150-160. She was about a 38C with hips to match.
Hank was the owner of a small business. He was a big Irish guy. He was about 6'4", 240 lbs. with the pronounced gut and the florid face of the heavy drinker.
They are friends of my ex-wife. The friendship with them had outlasted the marriage, but that is another story. The glue that held us together was Hank and I love of golf and pro football. Even after my divorce, he continued coming by to watch football. Once a month or so we would play golf and he would make his contribution to my entertainment fund. He was an enthusiastic but marginal golfer. When he teed it up, the ducks would move to the safe spot in the center of the fairway!
Occasionally one or the other of us would invite the other by for dinner. Ann fancies herself a pretty good cook. So do I. Four or five times a year we would have a "cook off". We would choose a menu and each of us would prepare one of multiple courses for our many friends.
Over the years I watched move from social drinkers to alcoholics. It was a gradual thing. First there would be a glass of wine with dinner. Then it became a couple of bottles with dinner. And let me admit right up front, I did nothing to discourage it. Hell I drank with them!
But A few years back they got in the habit of getting drunk and fighting. It probably started at their home. But it became a very public thing. The dinners stopped as others in our little circle shied away from them. There may be a morbid fascination with watching a train wreck, but you don't want to be on the train.
But I hung in. They had been through a lot with me. I owed it to them to stand with them. Perhaps I could help. If nothing else I would be there to help my friends pick up the pieces.
But my role of ad hoc marriage counselor transitioned to referee. Perhaps it was inevitable. Perhaps I should have seen it coming. But I truly valued their friendship.
They began using my house as the neutral corner. They would fight and then one of them would come by my house. At first I saw myself has a friend who was providing them a place to cool off. But it became intrusive.
Ann in particular became a problem. They would get drunk and fight. Ann would drive to my place in whatever she was wearing at the moment. She had come by in everything from loose fitting jersey shorts and a tee shirt to a nightgown. Usually she would pass out on my couch after complaining loudly about her husband. More than once I had to cover up as her hairy pussy was on display.
Eventually I had a heart to heart talk with Hank. I explained that I wasn't going to be the ad hoc marriage counselor anymore. In particular I told him about his wife's pussy being on display. I explained that friends or not, something could happen.
He was totally indifferent.
"It would serve her right, he said, We ain't fucked in months."
"TMI, Hank, Too much information!"
"I really didn't give a fuck, he said."
Weeks pass. One night about 1 a.m., the doorbell rings. I sleep raw. So I slipped on a robe and answered the door. There was Ann, dead drunk and leaning against my door sill. All she had on was a tee shirt and panties.
She pushes pass me, heads to the fridge and gets a beer. I tried to take it from her. There was a brief tussle and the beer split over both of us. Her wet tee shirt was transparent.
Her 38C had slight sag but she was in pretty good shape for a 50+ woman. She had a slight belly pooch. Her legs were full and well formed. Her ass was full and hadn't developed that older woman sag. Her reddish hair was streaked with grey. Beneath that shock of hair were these startling green eyes. All on all, she was not a bad looking woman.
My robe was also soaked. I pulled it off. She stood weaving, looking at my nakedness. I was pissed and really didn't give a shit about her seeing me naked. This had to stop.
I called Hank and told him to come get his wife. His slurred words told me he was drunk also. He mumbled something about fuck her, let the bitch stay there. I yelled at him to come and get her and hung up the phone.
She was stumbling toward my couch, intending to sit down in her beer soaked tee shirt and panties. I grabbed her. Angrily, I stripped off her shirt and panties. It then occurred to me that we were both naked. I grabbed another robe for me. I was looking for something to put on her when the doorbell rang. It was her husband.
He went straight to the fridge and grabbed a beer, seemingly oblivious to his naked wife. He and I get into a shouting argument about her, them and our friendship. While we argued, she passed out on the couch naked. He stumbled, nearly fell and sat on my lounger. It occurred to me that neither of them should be driving. Resigned to having two drunks as house guests, I sat on the arm of the couch. His wife was flat of her back snoring. Her legs were gapped open and her naked pussy was pointed at me.
A half formed thought entered my head. Maybe a little shock therapy might help. I lifted her legs and slid onto the couch with her legs in my lap. Bleary eyed, Hank watched me.
"Wha cha doin', he slurred?"
"You don't give a shit about her. Drink your beer and watch."
I leaned over, grabbed a tit and lightly bit her nipple. She stirred and made a weak motion to push me away. He tried to get up but fell back in the lounger.
"Wha ya doin', Hank asked drunkenly?"
"Shut up and watch. This looks like some pretty decent pussy!"
I took her other nipple in my mouth. I grabbed it with my teeth and pulled on it. Again she tried to push me away. I sat up and started rubbing her pussy while I talked to him.
"You say you don't give a fuck. Maybe I should get some of this pussy!"
I eased my finger into her pussy. I slowly began finger fucking her, letting my thumb rub her clit. Hank watched slack jawed. There was a bulge in his pants. At first she tried to push my hand away. Then she began a slow humping motion. She was getting wet.
"You need to think about a stranger finding her drunk like this and abusing her."
He listened but was watching me intently. I used my thumb to rub her clit while I added a second finger to her pussy. She was moaning loudly now and humping my fingers. I could see he had a whiskey hard on watching me use his wife of 30 years, watching her get finger fucked by his black buddy.
Ann was bucking against my fingers. At first she would grab my hand and try to push me away. Eventually she held my hand against her hairy pussy, forcing it deeper in her wetness. For a late 50's woman, she was incredibly wet. The grey tinged reddish brown hair of her pussy was matted with her secretions.
"Stop it, he screamed!"
He assayed standing again and fell to his knees. The alcohol slowed his reflexes. It prevented him from mentally comprehending or physically reacting quickly
"Leave my wife alone, you black bastard!"
"You said you didn't give a shit so why worry! See how wet she is, Hank?"
Ann's ass had lifted off the couch. He body was covered in a thin sheen of sweat. She sounded like an old car trying to start, uh, uh, uh, uh came out of her mouth. Hank was crying, tears streamed down his face. He pleaded with me to stop. He was trying to crawl to us but was too drunk.
Ann came violently. Her legs and arms thrashed about as though she was having a seizure. Her head rocked back and forth. He body was covered in sweat. Her mouth was open and saliva ran freely out of her mouth and down her cheeks. My hand was soaked in her juices.
Hank collapsed face down on the floor. He bawled like a baby.
"Oh god no, no!...please...stop! Ann....Ann....you ok, baby? You bastard, you fucking bastard!"
I stood. My dick was so hard it hurt. My little object lesson had me incredibly aroused. I could feel and hear the pulse of my blood in my ears. What the fuck was I doing?
Ann lay wide legged, her pussy oozing juice onto my couch. Her eyes were unfocused. She was breathing heavily and sweating profusely.
Hank was a hulking mass of crying, sweating flesh on my floor. He struggled to get to his feet. He got unsteadily to his knees. I grabbed an arm and pulled him to his feet. Emotion scudded across his face like storm clouds.
His fists were balled as though to hit me. I saw anger, confusion, and yes, lust. I looked down and his cock formed a small tent in his jeans. I ordered him to grab Ann's arm. He looked from me to Ann. We pulled her to her feet.
She stood wide legged, swaying slightly. Her mouth was partially open. Ann's eyes were unfocused. As though some signal triggered our actions, Hank and I looked at her pussy. Her thighs were wet with her cum. It was beginning to run down her thighs. Her bush was soaked and matted.
He was drunk and little help. But we finally got her to the bedroom. I left them there and went to my room. After a few minutes of guilt I dozed off.
The next morning I was fixing breakfast when they both came down. They both looked terrible. He was dressed as he was the night before. The rumpled look said he had slept in his clothes. She had on a robe I had left for her.
Over breakfast I told her what had happened. She was at first shocked, then angry and finally embarrassed that she had allowed herself to be used like that. As we talked my robe, which was way too big for her, exposed her tits to almost the nipple. She would pull it together; it would fall open again. I noticed him watching me. His expression was unreadable.
They left in one car, promising to pick up the other later. It was Saturday. I puttered around the house. I did the laundry, including her beer soaked panties and shirt. I put them on the front seat of her car. I dozed off during the afternoon. When I woke up, her car was gone.
Sunday he called and asked if I was watching the football game. He brought a 12 pack and a quart of rum. Half way through the game, the 12 pack and the rum, he brought up Friday night.
