Abigail and I know that most of our married friends don't have the sort of open marriage that we enjoy. That does not, however, stop my horny wife from wanting to fuck all the husbands in our little social circle, and it certainly doesn't prevent them from wanting to fuck her. So we've worked out a very special arrangement which allows everyone to get exactly what they want in the most exhilarating way possible, without a single jealous wife ever finding out that their spouse is routinely banging mine.
Once a week, we host a dinner party for our married friends at our place. We invite anywhere from three to seven couples over for a big meal, followed by drinks and socializing for an hour or two. Being the gracious hosts that we are, we have just one openly stated rule for our invited diners—no one but me is allowed to go into the kitchen to assist Abigail in preparing the food. All of her female friends think this is because she's so considerate that she doesn't want any of them to feel like they have to work while they're guests in our home. In reality, it's a rule that only applies to the women in attendance. Because while they're all sitting in the living room, sipping ice tea and chatting it up, their husbands take turns finding excuses to slip out of the living room, sneak into the kitchen, and fuck my filthy little wife's eager, waiting snatch.
Abigail typically wears a sun dress or other loose-fitting short skirt for these gatherings, making it easy for her to hike up the fabric and give each rock-hard visitor to the kitchen easy access to the pink, panty-less pussy underneath. She also likes to keep the skirt short and the neckline relatively low when dressing for our dinner parties, because the more shapely leg and deep cleavage she flashes (without making it too obvious), the more aroused and ready her clandestine kitchen "helpers" are when they arrive to sample her hot hole. Our friends are all used to seeing her in clothing that accentuates her round, 36D tits and tight, hourglass shape for most occasions, so none of the women question if she hosts a shindig looking a little more exposed than they might consider occasion-appropriate. But that little extra inch of bare skin here and there can mean not only the difference between my wife getting to ride some or all of the big cocks at the party, but also the difference between one of those cocks blowing its load quickly or taking so long to climax that an impatient wife in the other room becomes suspicious.
Typically, we both greet our friends at the door as they arrive, Abigail making certain to make smoldering eye contact with each man as he walks in, so they all know exactly what's really on the menu for the evening. After getting everyone set up in the living room with drinks and hors d'oeuvres, my bubbly beloved and I head off to the kitchen. While she gets dinner on the stove, I kiss her hyper-sensitive neck and ears, and finger her twat from behind to get her good and primed for what's to come. By the time I leave the kitchen to return to the party, Abigail is usually so horny she can barely stand still, the sweet juices of her delicious womanhood already running in musky rivulets down the inside of her silky, tanned thighs.
Not long after I get back to the living room, one of the husbands will look at me and say he needs to use the restroom. I'm not quite sure how the guys decide among themselves who gets to go first, but there's never any confusion or awkward jockeying for position. My guess is they all know they've got such a good thing going, none of them wants to screw it up by getting greedy. Whatever the case, I'll nod my consent to the first man up and he'll hurry out of the living room, toward the staircase just off the front hall. Unbeknownst to his wife, however, this lucky lead-off man will abruptly turn down the corridor before reaching the steps, heading into the kitchen from the other side of the room. There, he is greeted by my cock-starved better half, who undoubtedly wastes no time wresting his engorged dick-meat from his fly and bending over to let him jam it into her to the hilt.
Regrettably, the intricacy of our arrangement and the inherent need for alacrity prohibits me from being there in the kitchen when Abigail gets her first highly anticipated shot of adulterous cock. I imagine that first urgent impaling is the hottest, because the hours spent getting ready for the party and the few minutes I take to double-knuckle finger-bang her before the real fun begins always have her beside herself with desire. In any case, I usually have enough time to excuse myself and make it back into the kitchen while the first tryst is still in progress. Without fail, I find my blushing betrothed sprawled across the counter or kitchen table and one of my neighbors behind her mercilessly pounding his fat shaft into her like he's trying to hammer her through a wall. Often, they're going at it so hard that she has an oven mitt or dish towel stuffed in her mouth to keep her from crying out in pleasure or spewing some vulgar urging which would be heard by the wives in the living room.
By that point, it's usually just a few seconds before the guy tenses up from head to toe, bites back a feral howl, and dumps the contents of his bloated balls deep in the clenching valleys of Abigail's grateful gash. Ever the thoughtful hostess, my girl always turns around quickly, squats down, and thoroughly cleans the freshly milked pecker from base to bulbous tip with her luscious lips and lapping tongue. Then, without a word, she tucks the happy joint away, zips up my friend's pants, and sends him on his way back down the hallway. It's not uncommon for us to hear the man's wife in the other room asking, "Are you okay, honey?" as he rejoins the others, since burying one's prick in my beloved's beautiful baby box tends to leave a man more than a little flush-faced and out of breath.
