All About Charlot

What greater gift of love can a man bestow upon his wife than to grant her sexual freedom?

My wife is 39, 5’8” tall, slender, with 34B breasts. She has short auburn hair and her name is Charlot. She lost her cherry when she was 22 and I met her three years later. That was 14 years ago. In those days Charlot was an easy lay for anyone. I fucked her the first time I met her and married her four years later.

Charlot likes fucking - hard, often, and with whoever is available. She likes it in her cunt, her mouth and her arse (preferably at the same time). She likes cock, but doesn't care whether it is cock, object, or a tongue (man or woman’s) invading her.

In her time, Charlot has been loved and humiliated, cherished and defiled, adored and degraded. Yet she has taken all that has been offered and has enjoyed every minute of it.

Since we met I’ve seen just about everything disappear into that versatile cunt of hers. She's been stuffed with cock, tongues, fingers (even a whole fist), stubbies, wine bottles, sauce bottles, port bottles, ice cubes, a frozen red icy-pole, dildoes, cucumbers, spray cans of deodorant, shampoo bottles, carrots, her underwear and even our daughter's plastic Banana’s in Pyjamas doll.

Charlot has had threesomes, foursomes and twosomes on the side. She’s fucked my friends, their wives and her best girlfriend. She has had soldiers and sailors, farmers and factory workers, rich men and poor men. All have deposited their calling card in her various orifices, yet she has never taken the pill or insisted on a condom. We have one child.

She’s been fucked indoors and outdoors, in beds, in cars (stationary and mobile) and on them, in showers and spa’s, on the floor, the couch, the verandah, the patio and the lawn, you name it. She’s been fucked on a train, in offices, on desks and probably in a lot of other places that she’s either forgotten, or never told me about. She has been spanked, beaten and pissed on. There are only two things left that tempt her, getting gang-banged in a professional porno, and prostituting herself. I can do nothing but encourage her.

One thing I know, if I wanted Charlot’s body all to myself then I married the wrong woman, but I am proud of her exploits and don’t mind sharing. I adore my wife and I like to show her off. Her ‘lovers’ can do to her what they like, but it’s me she is in love with, and there is no-one else for me.

I first met Charlot in 1984. It was getting on toward Christmas, when a friend from work invited me to a party she was having at her house. Knowing that I was recently single, she told me that she had invited a girl called Charlot and that perhaps we would hit it off.

Being newly single I wasn’t about to dive headlong into another relationship, and I didn’t like being set up, but I thought I would go anyway and drink beer with boys.

I arrived at the party before Charlot and knocked down a couple of stubbies. When Charlot arrived, she was introduced to me by Lillian, my workmate. She seemed nice enough and we chatted for a while but I wasn’t really interested in her. Soon we drifted apart, circulating among the rowdy rabble masquerading as guests.

At one point I noticed a beer bottle rocking backwards and forwards on the console gas heater. I could see no reason for the bottle to be rocking. The heater was on a wall separating the lounge from the dining room. I went to the door of the dining room and looked inside. I saw another couple, Ken and Terri, locked in a passionate embrace against the wall. Ken had Terri pinned against the wall, her legs wrapped around his waist. Her dress had ridden up, exposing her white satin panties. Her arms were stretched up, over her head, against the wall.

Ken’s face was buried in her neck and he was vigorously grinding his denim clad penis against her satin covered cunt. Ken couldn’t see me, but Terri could. She looked at me and smiled. I had heard that Ken would let you fuck her if he was there too. She was definitely worth fucking, but in those days I thought threesomes were just something that happened to others.

I don’t know how long I stood there watching, but I am sure that Terri had an orgasm. Her hands left the wall and grabbed Ken around the back of his head. Her legs rode higher up Ken’s back. Her body tensed and her head tilted back. Her mouth was open but no sound came out. Then she relaxed, still pinned against the wall.

Ken was still grinding away in his tradesman like manner when a crashing sound came from the lounge room. The beer bottle had finally done a kamikaze dive from the top of the heater to the hearth. I quickly left the dining room.

Watching Ken and Terri had aroused my cock out of its lethargy and reminded me that I hadn’t scored since my last relationship went down the shit chute. I wondered where Charlot was.

I soon located her sitting on the couch with a bloke named Warren. Warren had a beard, wore a check shirt and a cowboy hat. I had met him earlier and decided that he was a dickhead. I was insulted that this sheila was giving up on me for this wombat, so, draining my beer, I went and sat down in between them. I handed Warren my empty stubby and said “It’s your shout, mate". Warren dutifully got up and went to the kitchen to get a couple of beers. I looked at Charlot and said “I’m going, are you coming?” She got up and we left. It was as easy as that.

That night I had borrowed my old man’s limosine, but I let Charlot think it was mine. She was impressed. I said to her “Would you like to come back to my place for coffee?” I cringed when I said it and I am still cringing some fourteen years later when I write it. Still, she said “Yes” and I am proud to say that she is still waiting for that bloody coffee.

We may have talked on the way to my house but I cannot remember. When we arrived we went to the lounge room and sat on the couch. I put my arm around her and kissed her. “What about my coffee?” she asked. “Fuck the coffee” I replied and began groping her.

Charlot was dressed plainly. She wore jeans and a white T-shirt, covered by a vest. Memory fails me, but somehow we ended up in our underwear. She wore a white bra and white cotton underpants.

I was sitting next to her on the couch, kissing her. I reached behind her and made a total fuck-up of releasing her bra. She reached around and adeptly assisted my amateurish effort. Removing her bra, I caressed her breasts and sucked gently upon her nipples. I did not know at that time that Charlot was not into foreplay and liked her sex rough.

I worked my way from her breasts to her navel, inserting my tongue in a prelude of what I was going to do to her cunt. I then moved down, kissing and sucking her flesh until I reached the top of her panties. I ran my tongue along the inside of the elastic then reached under her thighs and lifted her legs over my shoulders. I buried my face in her cotton covered crotch. Between her juices and my saliva we managed to get those panties pretty damn wet. Charlot, I then discovered, was not the silent type. When she went off I was afraid the neighbors would ring the cops and complain about the noise.

I reached up and grabbed the waist of her panties and slipped them off. I kept them in one hand, as I had plans for them, and buried my face back into her now thoroughly wet cunt. Then she came, in one long continual orgasm, bucking against my face as I tried to keep my tongue on her clit.

I spread her lips with the fingers of one hand whilst gradually stuffing her panties into her pussy. It was difficult because the cotton was so absorbent, but Charlot was a good lubricator and I soon achieved my objective. Charlot was looking at me strangely while I was stuffing her. This was the first time anyone had done this to her and she was nervous, in a strange house, with a strange man and his strange fetish.

I was too randy to worry about her feelings and tongued her pussy once more. Pulling her hips toward me, I inserted my cock into her wanton cunt. It was a strange feeling, the panties didn’t leave much room and her cunt was dry. As Charlot wasn’t complaining, I persisted and shortly there were enough juices flowing to enable a regular rhythm to develop. I fucked her for all I was worth until I exploded into her panty filled cunt. I hadn’t fucked for some months, so there was enough cum in her to sink the Titanic. I slowly withdrew, cum dripping from the end of my cock.

I rested back on my haunches. Charlot was still sitting on the couch. I had my hands under her knees, her legs high in the air and spread wide. We just looked at each other. I then noticed my cum oozing from her pussy and running down over her yet to be fucked anus, forming a large wet spot on the couch.

I watched in fascination as the wet spot got bigger and bigger. Charlot lay back on the couch, her breasts heaving.

Eventually I inserted two fingers into her cunt to remove her panties, but I couldn’t. Getting concerned, I inserted more fingers without success. I then inserted all my fingers and the tip of my thumb. I was amazed at what her cunt could take. I was soon able to extract the recalcitrant underwear, now totally soaked in pussy juice and cum.

I sat next to her on the couch and massaged my cum into her vulva. She leant over licking my limp cock clean. I asked her to stay the night and she agreed. I then slipped her panties back over her legs and up to her pussy and led her to bed. We slept in a spoon like position. I could feel the wetness of her panties against my crotch.

In the morning I awoke with an enormous piss-fat. I ran my hand over her body and down to her panties, only to discover that they had stuck to her body like a second skin. Peeling her dried, crusty, cum stained panties from her, I entered her turgid cunt. I thought about the night before while gently fucking her from behind and decided I could take more of this girl. Since then I, and a number of other people, have enjoyed Charlot’s body.

Perhaps dear reader you were, or will be, one of them.