Menage 2

She was on her belly, naked. Her bottom was in the air as her husband pounded into her from behind. The feeling was sweaty, rich and thoroughly exquisite. It was just short of painful. Her fingers drummed her clitoris. She moaned loudly, inspiring her husband to redouble his efforts. Sweat drizzled from his brow. He gripped her hips roughly. It was then that he began to speak.

"Are you enjoying this?"

"Yes," she hissed sharply.

"You love to fuck, don't you?" he asked almost under his breath.

"Yes," she said, moaning at the same time.

"Are you ready to cum?"

"Almost," she gasped as she spoke, "Oh, God, it's so delicious. I don't want it to be over just yet."

"You love cock, don't you?"

"Yes, ohhhh, God!" She quickly removed her fingers from between her legs to delay her imminent orgasm.

He slowed and lengthened his strokes, seeing that she was so close. Her orgasm would inevitably trigger his, and he wanted to prolong this encounter even as did his wife. She loved it when he talked dirty to her, and he loved the effect it had on her. Carefully chosen words would send her into a writhing, squealing frenzy. Her long, low moans and out-of-control movements were to him as a decadent dessert to be savored. As he continued to fuck her with long, painfully slow strokes, he contemplated the new territory he planned to explore with his words. The thoughts made him shudder.

"You really, really love cock, don't you?" he asked as he slid into her deeply.

"Ohhhh," she emitted a high-pitched squeal, "Yes! Yes, I love it! Oh, God, I can't hardly stand this!"

"Don't touch yourself."

"I'm not," she whispered breathlessly.

"Want to know what I'm thinking?"

"Mmm Hmmm," she responded.

"I'm thinking about what you'd look like with a cock in your mouth right now."

Her orgasm hit her like a blunt instrument in her solar plexus. "Unnghh!" she grunted, writhing, spasming, her entire body stiffening completely out of her control. Wave after wave after wave of orgasm rolled over her being with no seeming end in sight.

The wild, steaming contractions of his wife's vagina, coupled with the orgasmic contortions of her body sent her husband into his own climax. His thick, sticky seed spurted into her. His head jerked back, his spine flexed concave, his jaw tensed and clenched. From deep in his throat came a long, gutteral grunt that ended with a satisfying sigh as the spasms of orgasm began to subside.

Both wife and husband slid softly to the bed and into a quiet, gentle embrace.

Her name was Cindy. She cuddled and kissed her husband lightly. She loved him very much, and sex with him was always lots of fun. She was pretty, more than a little beautiful. She had big, bedroomy hazel eyes and a wide, generous mouth. Her skin was peachy, soft and silky, her breasts, while not necessarily huge, were firm and round, with perfectly pink nipples. Her figure was sweetly voluptuous, a classic hourglass. Although her bottom was wide and plump, perfectly formed, and creamy. Cindy was delectable and her husband, Michael, could never get enough of her.

Michael was average, average size, average height, average weight. He was both talented and enthusiastic in bed. Best of all, Michael was dangerous, unpredictable, and was about to do something very, very different.

"You're bad!" said Cindy. She screwed up her pretty face in a mock frown and playfully slapped her husband, who ducked as he laughed.

"You like bad, don't you?" he said.

"You know I do. You heard me come, didn't you?" she slapped him again, "But you're still bad!"

Cindy and Michael snuggled a few minutes longer, then fell asleep.

Richard Dean was one of Michael's best friends. Like Michael, he was in the "generally average" category, but tended to drift from one girlfriend to another. None of Richie's relationships lasted long, and there were usually long gaps between them. Richie was currently mired in the midst of one of those gaps.

"Damn, Michael," said Richie over coffee in the student union, "I'm so backed up I can hardly stand it! It sucks when you're right hand is your best friend."

Michael laughed, "Why don't you go out and get yourself a girlfriend, buddy? There are tons of girls all over campus."

Richie rolled his eyes, "Sure, easy for you to say. You get laid every night. I have to go through all that awkward, 'getting to know you' business. It's not easy, man. In fact, it's nerve-wracking. I hate dates, and I hate rejection, and I really hate trying to break it off with some chick who's whack or something like that. If I had any damn money I'd just line up a regular hooker to keep the pipes cleaned out, you know?"

It was Michael's turn to roll his eyes, "Richie, Richie, Richie. With a hooker you get the 'Me love you long time, but I eat apple while I fuck you and no extra charge for sexually transmitted disease, big boy'"

"Life sucks and then you die," Richie glanced down at his palm, "At least I got you, my friend."

Michael cruised through his afternoon classes on auto-pilot, thinking that Richie might be the perfect person to help fulfill his fantasy. Cindy liked Richie. He made her laugh with his endless, self-deprecating patter. Michael was sure, though, that Cindy had probably never thought about Richie in any kind of sexual way. Michael could change that. In fact, that would be part of the fun.

Classes complete for the day, Michael headed off to his work-study job at the college. He served as an administrative assistant for the College of Nursing. It was a Friday, and most of the faculty had already left for the weekend. The only faculty member left in the offices was Mr. Kebler. He taught the hard sciences, biology, physics, pharmacology. Mr. Kebler was pretty cool. A few days before he had been chatting with Michael as Michael stored some older files in the department's storage closet. As they chatted, Kebler had shifted some boxes to help Michael find room for the filing boxes being added to storage. The box Kebler was holding was filled with all manner of medical detritus, but Kebler pulled out one particular item he seemed to find of particular interest.

"Well, now, check this out," Kebler held up a tangle of straps with foam padding, velcro strips and plastic clips attached, "Something each and very budding dominatrix can use in the most practical terms...four-point restraints...although this piece, knotted up as it is, is just a one-pointer."

They had laughed and made a few more crude jokes about the odd item in the box, which would soon end in the school dumpster.

Michael was working on a revision of an in-house evaluation form for students' clinical performance as Mr. Kebler left his office for the day. Noticing that he and Michael were alone in the office, Kebler stopped to tell Michael a quick joke.

"A little boy asked his grandpa how many different kinds of breasts there were. His old grandpa sighed and told the boy that there were only three types of breasts. 'First,' the old man said, 'there are melons. You find those on young women. They're round, firm and fresh. As a women gets older those melons turn into pears. They're not quite as round or firm, but they are ripe and delicious. And then there are onion breasts.' The little boy asked what his grandpa meant by onion breasts. He understood about the melons and the pears, but the onions had him confused. His grandpa sighed again and said, 'Onion breasts are found on old ladies. They call 'em onion breasts because, when an old woman takes off her bra you can't help but cry.'"

Both men laughed, and then Kebler took his leave. This was what Michael had been waiting for. He had purposely kept the box of "junk" until he could retrieve the restraints. It took him several minutes, but Michael found all four pieces to the set and put them in his back pack. He wrapped up his work for the day, dropped the box and its remaining contents in the school dumpster and headed for home.

Dinner was finished and Cindy and Michael cleared the table. Michael stepped up behind his luscious little wife and, wrapping his arms around her, slid his hands up and squeezed her breasts, which were definitely melons. Her nipples hardened with the squeezing. Then Michael ran his hands down her sides, tracing the curve of her waist and thighs. He brought his hands together at the "v" of her anatomy, where her thighs and belly met. He could feel the heat of her sex beneath his hand.

"I don't think you want to watch TV, do you?" she asked in a low, almost husky voice.

"No," Michael answered and, with that, he pressed his hand a little deeper between Cindy's legs. She moaned in response.

"Let's go in the bedroom," Cindy suggested.

As they stepped through their bedroom door, Michael took Cindy in his arms and kissed her deeply. Their tongues rolled over one another and Cindy whimpered into his mouth.

"Why don't you put on one of your more interesting outfits?" asked Michael.

"Do you have a preference?"

"Surprise me."

With that, Cindy rummaged surreptitiously in her lingerie drawer, then disappeared into the bathroom. Knowing he had a few minutes before she would emerge, Michael quickly strapped the four-point restraints in place on the four edges of the bed. No sooner had he finished with that task and dimmed the lights in their bedroom than Cindy came gliding out of the bathroom wearing a red, see-through bra, red lace panties and red fishnet stockings. Michael's cock swelled and hardened.

He pulled Cindy onto the bed and kissed her deeply. His hands roamed all over her body as she moaned and pressed against him. Michael pulled her over on top of him and enjoyed her grinding against him, her pelvis pressing deliciously against his raging hard-on. They kissed and writhed against each other for a time, then Michael began to draw Cindy's body up the length of his until her knees were placed on either side of his head. He pulled the crotch of the tiny red panties aside and began to lick her swollen sex. This elicited a low, growling moan of ecstasy from deep within Cindy. Michael continued to suck and lick his dripping, groaning, squirming wife until her breathing became shallow and labored. Her hunching against his mouth quickened, signalling that she was dangerously close to orgasm, and Michael wanted to delay this for some time. He whipped her body off his and onto her back.

"Roll over," he whispered into her ear.

"Mmmm," Cindy cooed as she complied.

Michael drew the whispy panties down her body and off over her ankles. Cindy lay on the bed humping against the covers and whimpering quietly. She was thoroughly consumed by her lust at this point and was willing to subserviantly comply with any suggestion Michael might offer. In fact, she was hoping he would do any number of things to her without advance warning and without her permission. The very idea made her throb and drip. She was about to get her wish.

Michael quickly grasped his wife's right arm and secured her wrist into the restraint.

"What's this?" Cindy asked mischievously.

Michael said nothing, but firmly secured Cindy's other arm and both ankles. She was now unable to move but a few inches in any direction, and she was obviously enjoying her husband's little "surprise."

"You've tied me up before, but this is interesting," said Cindy, "What, exactly, are you planning to do to me?"

Again, Michael did not reply, but quietly removed his clothing as he watched his helpless wife strapped face down on their bed. His eyes were inexorably drawn to her ass, exposed and vulnerable in the middle of the bed. He stared at it, noticing for the millionth time it's perfectly round shape, it's plumpness, it's creamy whiteness, and remembering it's smoothness and softness. He reached into the bedside stand and withdrew a bottle of baby oil. Kneeling beside his wife on the bed, he dribbled some of the oil on her ass and began to gently smooth it into the skin of her cheeks.

"Mmmm, that feels nice," breathed Cindy into the mattress. She moved her ass in tiny motions, like a cat arching into a pet.

Suddenly, Michael slapped her ass cheek.

"Oh!" Cindy exclaimed with a surprised squeak.

Michael slapped her again.

"Oh!" she said again, but this time the noise quivered with just a bit of lust.

Another slap.

Cindy groaned and arched her ass into the air to receive another blow.

Another slap.

"Oh, God! Don't stop doing that! Spank me! I love it!" she sounded as if she might come from just the spanking , and her plump ass was starting to become reddish pink from Michael's ministrations.

Michael began to sweat; he was focusing on slapping his wife's soft, round ass. The blows were completely irregular in timing, but identical in force, just hard enough to sting.

"You love to be fucked, don't you?" he asked.

Cindy only moaned and wiggled her ass in response. Michael slapped her tender white bottom again, this time harder than any of the other blows.

"You really love fucking, don't you? Tell me!" he slapped her ass hard again.

"Oh, my God! Oh, my God," Cindy whimpered breathlessly, "God, yes! I love to fuck! God, I just love it!"

"Are you enjoying being spanked?" Michael asked, his voice full of teasing.

"Oh, yes!" Cindy panted.

Michael adjusted his position to make it easier to do something he wanted to do, but he continued administering blows to his wife's wiggling, pink bottom.

"So, you love being spanked and you love to fuck, huh? What about eating cock? Do you like to eat cock?" he inquired.

"Unh!" Cindy grunted involuntarily. This was a sign of approaching orgasm. The tingling and spasms of her climax were beginning to form deep within her. She would not be able to take much more mental or physical teasing without coming.

"Do you enjoy the sensation of a dick in your mouth? The taste of cock?"

Cindy's voice was quavery, husky, absolutely dripping with lust, "Yes. I love sucking cock."

"I'll bet you'd enjoy having someone fuck you in the mouth while I spank your hot, fat ass, wouldn't you?" as he spoke those words, Michael reached below Cindy with one arm. Angling his wrist and hand, he gently began to slap her pussy in such a fashion that the light, little smacks stimulated her clitoris. That was much more than Cindy could handle. Her mind was flooded with a fantasy image of her mouth filled with some strange, swollen dick, even as she thrilled to the very real sensation of her hotly stinging ass. The sudden jolt of her clit being stimulated, completely unexpected and delicious, sent her careening into total sexual overload. She came with one of the most explosive orgasms she had ever in her life experienced. She wailed; she thrashed; she grunted atavistically, and the orgasm went on and on and on. Then she collapsed, boneless, on the bed.

Richie Dean woke up in his little apartment with a start from yet another wet dream. He was only 20 years old, and he thought about sex all the time. Despite the fact that he jacked off almost every day, fantasizing deliciously about this girl or that girl, he had these wet dreams almost twice each week. It seriously pissed him off and, since he had a limited number of pairs of underwear, forced him to do laundry more often than he cared to, which was never. Still, there were enough women in the laundromat to provide fresh fuel for his "jack-off" fantasies.

He preferred to fantasize about girls he knew. His favorite musings dealt with Michelle, the girl with whom he'd broken up most recently. She had a couple of delightfully sexy tatoos, one on her lower back. He'd always enjoyed fucking her doggy style, gripping her ass cheeks and just staring at that tatoo. He liked thinking about Mrs. Gerling, too. She was the wife of an English professor whose course he had taken during his freshman year. He still saw her from time to time, because she worked in the financial aid office. She was older, but she just looked like she enjoyed sex. He didn't know why he thought that; she wasn't especially attractive, but was not unattractive, either. You could just tell that Mrs. Gerling liked to fuck, that's all. Richie also liked to think about his buddy, Michael's wife, Cindy. There was no doubt about Cindy; she definitely liked to fuck. She never really flirted with him, and he would never dream of hitting on Michael's wife, but she just exuded sex. Sex oozed from every pore of Cindy's lush, curvy body. Her mouth, her tits, her thighs and her ass were all built for fucking. A lot of men would say Cindy was too fat, not the supermodel type. A lot of men were idiots. Michael was no idiot. It was obvious to Richie that Michael knew exactly what he had in Cindy, and loved every minute of it. Lucky Michael. Damn, Richie needed a new girlfriend!

But Richie Dean was painfully shy and awkward around most girls. It was always a long interval between girlfriends. Richie could score with high school girls, but that never was a good thing. Dating high school girls meant pissed-off fathers, embarrassment at college functions and, worst of all, stalking, rabbit-boiling, 200 phone calls-per-night teeny boppers. Who needs that?

Richie just filled up his kitchen sink with hot water, dribbled in a little dish soap and dropped his cum-sticky underwear in. It was a disgusting thing to do, but who would ever really know besides him? He just couldn't deal with the laundromat this week, that's all. Richie was going to have to hurry to shower, shave, dress and meet Michael at the Student Union for coffee before classes.

"I tried something new and different with Cindy last night," said Michael, sipping his coffee.

"Oh, shit," Richie spat, "Do not talk to me about sex with Cindy, for God's sake! I'm so backed up I'm drenching my damn shorts with sperm while I sleep! Have a little pity, okay?"

Michael burst out laughing so hard that coffee actually shot out from his nose. He choked and coughed all at the same time, nearly falling off his chair. People at other tables were staring at the two men.

"Shit, man," Richie said with genuine concern, "Are you gonna be all right?"

Michael nodded, still coughing and laughing. He waved his hand at Richie to send the message that he was expecting a complete recovery.

"No, seriously, Michael, I have got to find a girlfriend soon. I just can't stand this anymore. I'm still whacking and thinking about Michelle, man."

This sent Michael into fresh fits and coughing and laughter.

"Would you please not laugh at me? I'm serious here."

Richie sat quietly staring into his coffee cup while Michael regained his composure, coughed a little more, and cleared his throat. Michael blew his nose into a napkin, wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and, shaking his head slightly said, "God, I'm sorry, Richie. I'm really not laughing at you, I swear. It's just the way you said that, really. I'm sorry, man."

"A little respect and human decency here, okay?" said Richie.

"Yeah, " Michael replied, sipping what was left of his coffee, "Really, I mean it, I'm sorry. You forgive me?"

"Okay."

"I tied her up and spanked her till she came."

"Goddamit, Michael!"

Richie was all alone in his apartment. It was deep in the evening. He had tried watching TV, but his mind just couldn't focus on a sitcom or a movie, and he definitely could not follow the news. Richie's cock was stiff inside his pants, so hard that it hurt.

Richie swung his feet to the floor off the couch and, sighing deeply, he leaned forward and cut off the TV. Standing straight, Richie stretched and ambled toward the bedroom. He stopped in the bathroom and brushed his teeth. It was in his mind, festering. He washed his face, but it was bothering him and bothering him. He sighed deeply again and felt his aching cock right through his pants.

Richie disrobed completely and tossed his clothes in a hamper in the corner of his bathroom. The hamper was already full, so several items of clothing slid off onto the floor, but Richie didn't care at all. He was more than ready for bed. Before he headed out of the bathroom to his bed, Richie reached into his medicine cabinet and palmed a bottle of lotion. He carried the wash cloth he'd used on his face with him, too.