Abbys Mom And The Seven Cocks

All characters involved in any sexual situations are eighteen years old or older.

Abby's Mom & The Seven Cocks

Part 1 - Bashful

"My mother told me to wait until I was married, so I waited.

And I waited.

And I waited. Up until then, I felt guilty about masturbating because she told me some girls became addicted to it, and that it was the man's job to pleasure the woman. If I took to pleasuring myself all the time, I'd never try to get married. I met her halfway, though. I made myself come by rubbing my clit, but I didn't put anything inside me in an effort to keep my hymen intact - giving the honor of "deflowering me" to my future husband instead of a rubber dick-shaped toy.

Eventually, my wedding night came, and so did your father - several times. He could have cared less if my hymen was intact for my first time. It hurt, but only briefly, as I'm sure you know.

I wasn't sure what a vaginal orgasm was supposed to feel like, so after I became accustomed to having his manhood inside me, I imagined that I experienced several that night, too.

I didn't.

It's not that intercourse didn't feel good. I quickly found that I really enjoyed sex with my new husband. I was just having a hard time climaxing because I didn't know what I didn't know.

It wasn't until a few nights later, after my second or fifth Mint Julep, that I really understood what it felt like to have a vaginal orgasm.

I was feeling a lot more comfortable being naked for most of the day. In the course of rolling around on the bed, laughing, kissing, and trying what I thought were ridiculous positions, we eventually found a few that worked for me better than others. The first time I came while your father was fucking me, I shook like I was being electrocuted. For a moment, I thought he was afraid I was having an epileptic seizure - but that didn't stop him from continuing to thrust into me. When I kept moving my hips, wanting more, he realized that he had just given his wife her first, real, vaginal orgasm.

After that, I was a little nymphomaniac. I wanted sex as much as he did - if not more, and he really wanted to have a lot of sex. We were happy," my mother said, pausing to take a sip of her wine.

I remembered this was how our mother-daughter talk ended when I had my first period almost twenty years ago. She explained what a period was - reinforcing what they had already taught us in school. She also told me what a blowjob was, in the event a boy asked for one, some day. While she told me about the benefits and drawbacks of blowjobs, she didn't go into any details on how to properly give one.

My mom didn't tell me a lot of things back then, and I wasn't sure if she was embarrassed by the subject matter, or if she just figured I'd find out for myself, like she did.

That made this particular talk unusual. My once-sexy, now outwardly-conservative mother was about to share secrets with me that men had taken to their graves. I'm not sure what strange event triggered this need to divulge these secrets to her thirty-something daughter, but I wasn't going to ask for fear of interrupting her and causing her to think twice about continuing.

Months before, we had a similar talk in a hospital cafeteria before visiting her next-door neighbor...

The same next-door neighbor that had a heart attack while fucking me in a dive bar on the other side of town.

She didn't know that part, as far as I could tell. Very few people knew that part, actually.

That was before I took a little trip with Mort, one of my favorites at that bar. It took a few weeks for the trip to happen, and the story that I was "visiting a friend that was sick" in another Midwest State in the middle of winter was weak, but it finally happened. And, it happened in a big way. I didn't realize how wild things had gotten toward the end of the trip until watching the silent video Mort had provided on a thumb drive which captured just about everything. I watched it with Jean for the first time as soon as she drove me to her place from the airport, and she was quick to call some of her son's college friends to try some of the positions that I had been in. I watched it again with my husband not long after that, and it made for some fairly intense sex with him. I even caught him masturbating to it while he thought I was out. I didn't blame him.

I masturbated to it, too.

I was different when I returned from my vacation in paradise, to be sure. I was a very different Abby than I was six months ago.

The tan was probably the most noticeable change. I ended up looking good with a deep tan, having never had one before because I usually tended to freckle more than tan in the sun. But, I guess I also became a lot more chill, too, as my own daughter would say.

My husband, Ron, still fucked me whenever he wanted, wherever he wanted, so he was happy. He could still make me come, but mostly while I was thinking about someone else. Anyone else, actually.

I knew he was still fucking my friend-of-a-friend Jean, thinking I didn't know. But, Jean would tell me all about their little getaways almost as soon as they finished the act. She knew I didn't care. She didn't love him or have any other feelings for him. He was a good lay, and so was she.

"Good for him," I thought. "At least I know who else he's fucking."

He had some idea of who else I'd fucked at the infamous office party, but I hadn't told him everything about my dive bar gangbangs, or my recent trip to Cancun. I had no intention of him knowing, either, other than what he could tell from Mort's video. I thought that would be enough. At least, for the foreseeable future.

Asking my mom about Hall Passes the day we went to the hospital must have led her to believe I was about to cheat on Ron. Or, that he had already cheated on me, and that maybe I was determined to get even.

When I dropped the kids off for the weekend a week after I got back from the trip, she could tell something was different outside of the inexplicable tan.

I didn't tell her about the Cancun trip with Mort, but she was pretty sure I hadn't gotten that tan in middle-America in the middle of winter. She also noticed I was a lot more relaxed than I had been before the trip. I guess there was a time in her life when she felt the same way.

And, as luck would have it, she felt the need to finally tell me about it...

"I shouldn't have been surprised to get pregnant so quickly. Your father and I made love a lot the first few weeks we were married. I was his little "fuck bunny", to be sure," my mom continued.

My mom never cursed, so this was already getting interesting. It probably had something to do with finishing her first bottle of wine before six o'clock, and being about half-way through the second an hour later. I tried to remember when the last time was that I saw her drunk.

Never. She barely drank when I was growing up, and she might have had only two glasses of wine at my wedding reception. I looked at the clock on the wall, and then at my phone as if getting a second opinion on the time before easing back into the recliner, and crossing my legs.

"Your father won't be home until later tonight. I'll have sobered up by then, so don't worry, Abby.

Where was I?

Oh... getting fucked, and getting pregnant. That's right. I barely got used to masturbating before I found out I was pregnant. Your father had just left on a six-month deployment when he got the news. Before that, our conversations revolved around all the ways he was going to take me when he was home on Shore Leave. After I told him I was pregnant, things were just a little tense.

He thought - as did I - that I was not going to be as promiscuous after we had you, and he knew how much I was enjoying sex before he left. Apparently, it was more than either of us could have imagined. I wondered if he thought I was going to resent him for getting me pregnant so early in our marriage, even though I was just as responsible.

I wasn't going to resent him. We both wanted to start a family - eventually. It just happened a little sooner than expected. In hindsight, I would end up being even more adventurous with him after having you. But how could either of us have known that?

When he told me to go out and have as much sex as I wanted while I was pregnant with you... to get it out of my system... it was a lot to process. He thought giving me permission would make it so I wouldn't be cheating, or something like that. My gynecologist at the time knew he was deployed, so she was taken aback when I asked how late in the pregnancy was it still safe to have sex. I explained that your father and I planned to make up for the lost time while he was away, and she said I should be fine up until a certain point.

So, that set my timeline."

During our cafeteria talk, she had mentioned not one, but seven other men being invited between her legs. Not at the same time - as she thought that was low class - but individually. Although, she did mention having more than one "date" on the same day. She knew each of the men, and they all knew her and her husband, but as far as she knew, they didn't know they were each taking turns with her. At least, that's what she said, then. I wondered about that, though. And why seven? Why not stop at three? Why not ten or twenty?

I hoped I was about to find out.

"So, how does a recently married, recently impregnated woman go about finding a lot of sex?" I asked after a long sip of wine.

"Simple. You offer hypotheticals, set limits, and if they agree, you fuck," my mom said with a sly smile.

"That's it?" I asked. "No cat and mouse flirting or anything?" I asked, pretending that my mouth, pussy, and butt hole hadn't been available for free use at my favorite dive bar for the past several months.

"No need, Abby.

They obviously found me attractive. I found each of them attractive, in their own ways. They knew I was married, and I knew some of them were married," my mom said.

"Did they know you were pregnant?" I asked.

"Eventually. And that seemed to make things much more exciting for them. They knew they could come inside me without consequence, so they did. A lot. I worried that on the days I had more than one date, that the last gentleman of the day inside me would get suspicious. So, I made sure that I always ended a day or night of fucking with one of the more well-equipped studs. As far as I know, they thought I was just really wet for them.

More wine?" my mother asked.

I nodded. She filled my glass, and then continued.

"Don't think I wasn't nervous. I was. Very, actually.

The boy that took me to my junior prom was always very nice to me even though I spent most of the night dancing with my future husband, so I figured he would be most likely to say yes to my indecent proposal. He was very cute, but shy. I'll refer to him as Bashful, but he was no dwarf. None of them, were.

Anyway, Bashful was my age and a virgin - if you didn't count his incessant masturbation habit. His body still had some growing to do, but I quickly realized his manhood was pleasantly shaped when properly motivated.

He worked at an ice cream shop while paying his way through junior college. He was easy to find, easy to approach, and still had a crush on me, even though he knew I was married.

He also knew your father was going to be away for awhile.

We met for lunch, which was innocent enough. Then, we met for dinner, but kept the conversation friendly. It only took three dinners for him to sit next to me, close enough for him to smell my perfume.

When I flirted with him, his face would turn bright red. But when I rested my relatively small hand on his leg, and then his modest bulge, his face turned white. At first, he was embarrassed, thinking I mistakenly placed my hand there. When I squeezed and then stroked his hardened manhood through his trousers, the color returned to his face, but was quickly replaced with the look of confusion.

I explained that my husband was away, I had needs, and as luck would have it - I was pregnant. He didn't need to know that my husband had given me permission to have sex with other men, so I didn't tell him. I thought that would add to the excitement, and it did.

I could feel the sexual tension building, but he still didn't act on it. A peck on the cheek goodnight was all I could get out of him.

Finally, I went to where he worked at the ice cream parlor, looking as cute as I could be, and asked if he could show me where they kept all the ice cream. It wasn't where I thought we'd end up the first time we fooled around, but we ended up kissing in the freezer of the ice cream parlor.

I let him feel me up through my clothes, and it was mostly just a lot of heavy petting at first. It felt like we were back in high school, but he was finally getting to touch me in all the ways he had fantasized. He still wasn't trying to fuck me.

So, I took matters into my own hands, as they say. Somewhere between Rocky Road and Pralines and Cream, I pushed him back, pulled down his pants, and took his hard prick in my cold hands. I alternated between blowing him and stroking him until he finally came in my warm mouth. I swallowed, because that's what good wives do, and for his part, he quickly regained his erection.

He admitted that he didn't know what he was doing, but that he really wanted to fuck me. I imagined it wouldn't take long, so I stepped out of my capris, and pulled off my panties, but left my tennis shoes and bobby socks on. The floor was freezing, after all.

To my surprise, after he bent me over the double-chocolate ice cream, he proceeded to fuck me for close to thirty minutes!

Even though it was freezing in that room, we both worked up a sweat. At some point, I pulled off my top, and let him undo his first bra. He immediately fell in love with my tits. I think that was the hardest my nipples had ever been, and he couldn't seem to suck on them hard enough. I loved it. I even encouraged him to bite them. I sucked on his handsome dick before he resumed fucking me over several other flavors of ice cream. The whole experience was surreal. So many emotions were going through my mind. It felt good, but I still felt guilty in the back of my mind. I was so close to coming, but something kept holding me back.

Eventually, he filled my pussy with his come, but then he awkwardly helped me get dressed "before I got sick."

His coworker didn't know me, but given as long as Bashful was gone, and that we both walked out of the freezer with our clothes mussed and smeared with ice cream, he assumed the obvious. He didn't tease Bashful, though. He actually encouraged him to invite me back as often as he wanted. I wouldn't know until months later that the coworker was able to watch us through a two-way mirror on the other side of the freezer.

I could never get Bashful to get us a motel room. It wasn't that he was cheap - he just couldn't afford it. When it came to sex with Bashful, it was either going to be in the storage freezer of the ice cream parlor, or on the trails in the forest preserves. While the ice cream parlor was convenient, it was really cold! So, we had a lot of sex outdoors. He asked his coworkers and fellow college students for places to make out on nature walks. I was a little worried about that, at first, because if we went to any of those places, those same people giving him recommendations would probably be keeping an eye out for us, and I needed things to remain discrete.

We found a nature trail that was hardly ever used - until we came along. After that, it was used a lot. At least twice a week, we walked. We held hands. We kissed. And after we were confident nobody else was around, we stripped naked and pretended to be Adam and Eve. Eventually, I embraced what I was doing as being 'okay' for me and my husband, and I was able to feel comfortable with fucking another man. Which was good, as I really preferred to come and not feel guilty about it.

I think Bashful helped me perfect the 'getting fucked standing up and leaning against a tree' position, because we did that one a lot. I didn't want to get dirty by laying on the ground, but Bashful didn't mind. As a result, I learned how to fuck on top. I found that by setting my own pace, I could come very quickly, so that became one of my favorite positions. I'll never forget the look on his face the first time I came on top of him. My chest was heaving and my tits were bouncing in his face. When I came, my pussy clenched him for all it was worth. He really, really liked that. He presumed we were going to do that position a lot more after that.

He was right.

Part 2 - Happy

The next gentleman was a few years old than your father, and he knew him from Boy Scouts several years earlier. Tall, dark, handsome, with a beautiful smile he seemed to flaunt all the time. Who could blame him? He had the looks, and he married his prom queen. His father gave him a job at a real estate firm - a family business at the time - and provided the new bride and groom with a house as a wedding present. What more could a man want?

I happened to be wearing high-heeled sandals, a thin blouse, a short business skirt, and matching bra and panties the first time I fucked him, pretending to inquire about a new property for the new addition to the family. He was always a flirt, as most good-looking real estate agents are, but when I flirted back... well, he was not the kind of man that needed to be told twice. Let's just say he was coming inside me in the office restroom before anyone knew either of us had stepped out. It was a miracle nobody noticed the come stain on the back of my skirt, or the flecks of come that had soaked through several spots of my blouse. He kept my panties, too.

He seemed to have an instant-on switch in his brain that made his cock stand at attention in a matter of seconds. He put it to good use during a few more office visits, but he knew I wanted something that was going to last a little longer than a quickie in the office bathroom.

I presumed that he fooled around a lot, but he assured me that I was currently his only extramarital affair. Currently.

Happy, as I'll refer to him, had no qualms about getting a hotel room for us, and was a pleasure to look at naked in between our little romps.

He wasn't overly well-endowed, but the rest of him was gorgeous. He had a very talented tongue and must have gone down on me twice for every blowjob I gave him. He really loved the taste of my pussy, even after I had been fucked by someone else, earlier. I can only assume he didn't know.

He also had an insatiable foot fetish, which is why I think he was so quick to agree to spending as much time with me as he did. You and I have very pretty feet, don't we? Does Ron fuck your feet? Never mind. Where was I?

Happy was a fun, playful fuck. Thankfully, the only thing infectious about Happy was his smile, and smile I did, about five times each time he took me to a hotel room or showed me one of his many properties for sale. His dick was okay, but that mouth... and that tongue! I wondered if he went down on his wife as well or as often as he went down on me. I don't have the biggest clit in the world, but he knew exactly where to put his tongue," my mom closed her eyes and smiled.

I guess I had her beat, there. My clit was freakishly big when aroused, like now. If it had been anyone else telling the story, I would have already had my hand down my panties.

Part 3 - Dopey

"The third gentleman was just a boy a year behind me, the oldest in his senior class thanks to being set back a year in gradeschool. He was what a lot of the other kids referred to as a "loser." Your father was nice to him, though, because this loser actually helped his mom - your grandmother - when she had a dead battery at the grocery store where he was a bagger. Your father looked out for him after that, even though the boy never got much smarter. What your father may not have known was that Dopey had a really, really big dick. A few of the girls from school had seen him while sneaking into the boy's locker room after gym class to have a look, and swore they had never seen anything like it.