Playing Around at Paul's Cabin

Caution: wife sharing story ahead! If this subject is not your thing, please do not read any further and please demonstrate enough maturity not to comment. I'm most interested in feedback from fans of this genre.

Gusts of rain flattened the field of wild sage, and beyond it, the dark woods leading to the lake hissed and groaned in a very uninviting way. Staring out the cabin window, Mia told us of her urge to run into the dense maze of wood wearing nothing but sandals. I laughed, believing she wouldn't last five minutes in the mountain cold. She took it as a challenge, and I suddenly found myself seated on a pine-post railing, rain beating against the metal porch roof, and my girlfriend leaning naked on the railing next to me, describing how much she loved a good storm. Her bare tits rested in her folded arms and her bent over twenty-three-year-old ass looked round, tight and delicious. I reached out and caressed the top of her bad-ass bubble-butt. Top-fucking-shelf! I still had trouble believing I'd landed such a top-shelf piece of ass.

When we returned to Paul's warm cabin ten minutes later, she glided straight to the fire, breaking stride only to snatch the knitted blanket from the leather sofa back. She wrapped herself inside and flopped down on a buffalo skin rug a few feet from the fireplace screen. My vegetarian girlfriend never set foot on that rug before, but the temptation of the blazing pine logs finally proved stronger than her disgust. Soon Emily took a seat next to her, and together they watched the flames flicker and spit, while Paul and I heated up mulled wine in the cramped kitchen. We took a cupful to the girls and then he broke out a bottle of brandy, pouring a fair amount in two large brandy snifters.

It wasn't long before the wine hit the girl's and their conversation grew louder, bolder and full of laughter. They must have exchanged stories about every guy they'd ever known, as Mia shifted behind Emily and braided her long brown hair. She'd wrapped the knitted blanket just below her armpits, leaving her shoulders totally exposed and her arms free. The loose knit blanket let her skin peek through the holes, and my eyes kept finding the pink of her nipples. Paul carried a hot ladle across the room, topped off their wine cups, and then sat next to me at the small dining table. He angled himself towards the girls, as did I.

"I could watch that all night."

"No shit."

"So Mia sure does love nature,

rain

or shine."

That summer Mia had lead the four of us skinny dipping in the lake, but it had been hot, sunny and a totally summer thing to do, but stripping down at this time of year rang just plain insane.

When Mia completed Emily's braid, Emily removed her sweater, leaving her in a wife-beater and sweatpants. She has splendid tits, and seeing them braless in a wife-beater, the nipples poking at the fabric and the outside curvature of her boob visible from the side opening, warmed me in a way the brandy couldn't.

But it was more than her partially exposed boob––something about Emily told me I could have her if I wanted. Something about her thick lipstick, thick eyeliner, and her sparse tattoos, seemed... I don't know...

slutty

? But then Paul's girls have always struck me that way. He may have displayed a taste for refined luxuries, rolling about in a Mercedes and showing off his pricy wine rack, but he gauged his woman by their performance in the sack, and that's about it.

Mia turned her back to the fire and loosened the knitted blanket. She clutched it to her bosom but allowed it to fall from her back, leaving her bare skin sparkling in the firelight. Mia may have lived in a way that made minced-meat out of social norms, but she seemed oblivious to the affect it had on people, and never came off slutty. Weirdly enough, however, watching her get friendly with a girl like Emily blurred that distinction for me, and I couldn't keep my mind off fucking her super sleazy like. Maybe that's why Paul preferred the easy chicks––their willingness to do it all set fire to the imagination.

Mia caught me gawking, her sharp green eyes trapping me like a spotlight. She'd do that often––her eyes would bound wildly about the world and then lock onto me with a sudden razor sharp intensity. And while her cocky smile let me know she could damn well read my mind, her green peepers revealed the pure heat living in the depths of her soul. I literally found myself salivating, like a hot buttered carrot rested on my tongue, and I proceeded to swallow awkwardly.

Paul sipped his Brandy to hide his own shit eating grin, then whispered, "Dude, you're girlfriend's amazingly hot."

"Yeah she is. But so's yours, man."

"Isn't she though?"

I checked to make absolutely sure Mia wasn't listening, and then turned again to Paul. "Don't say anything to Emily, but I'm getting a ring for Mia in a couple of weeks."

"Holy shit! Seriously, Devon?"

I just smiled proudly and nodded my head.

"Fucking congratulations, man!" He looked back at Mia, naked under the blanket, and snorted a laugh.

"What? You wouldn't marry that?"

"No dude, that's not it at all."

"Then what?"

"Well I'm just glad you told me before I said anymore."

"Oh yeah, such as what?"

He punched my arm instead of answering.

"This is an excellent Brady, but I'm breaking out the choice Cognac for this."

He went to the liquor cabinet and brought back a brown bottle littered in calligraphy.

He then explained how he'd met a French electronics genius who bragged about a family making a Cognac to rival Hennessey's finest, and charged about one-sixth the price. So Paul spent a hundred dollars in long distance calls tracking this family down and then bought six bottles at two hundred a pop, which is nothing compared to the price of supreme quality Cognacs. .

"It was such a legit operation the bottles arrived on my doorstep in an actual wooden crate. How insane is that? But here it is, and now

you

can honestly say that you've tasted the

best

fucking Cognac in the world."

I took a sip and let it hover in my mouth before swallowing.

"Liquid silk, right?"

"Wow!"

"So alive, yet so tranquil––wakes up the throat, then leaves it cool and happy."

His dark eyes, which I've heard woman describe as seductive, ignited with devilish excitement. With his next sip he completely lost his customary cool composure and drifted away in an almost heroine like daze. Nobody appreciated life's finest more than Paul.

"So fuckin' smooth, smooth, smooth."

He then produced two cigars from his flannel shirt pocket. "Let's go finish it on the porch with these. You know your cigars?"

"Not really."

"Well this cigar is about on par with the Cognac, that's all you need to know."

Outside he passed a clipped and lit cigar as I zipped up my winter coat. The icy drops fell in sheets just beyond the eves and I asked if we might see any snow. Being a databank of worldly wisdom, Paul assured snow wouldn't show for at least another week.

"I'm back up here with a snowboard on the third, how about it?"

"I wish. We're pretty booked until the New Year." I took a drag off the cigar and felt myself turn green. I had to take Paul's word it was 'primo', because all cigars tasted like ass to me. Still, I was sipping the world's finest Cognac and smoking an equally fine cigar, and felt very Fortune 500 doing it. As I took another drag I wondered if that was most likely their universal appeal––the awesome taste of power.

I directed my thumb towards the cabin door. "So back in there, what was so funny about marrying Mia?"

He dodged the question by asking about our friend Mitch. "You think Mia is going to allow him at the wedding? I mean, when's the last time you've even seen him?"

"Months! There's no way he's not coming to the wedding, though."

"Hahaha! That girl holds a grudge worse than I do. Doesn't she get Mitch is just a scatterbrained surfer?"

"I think so."

"Doesn't she know

all

of us passed around a girl at one point or another? And shit, it worked out for her, didn't it? His loss, her gain, right?"

"Man, I haven't even asked her to marry me yet, I can't worry about all this now. Anyhow, it makes choosing my Best Man a whole lot easier."

"Well shit, Devin, thanks!" He took a drag off his cigar and exhaled with an I'm-up-to-something smile. "Well now I'm

really

glad I silenced myself back inside."

"Come on fucker, out with it!"

"If you really gotta know, I was going to suggest we swap score-cards for the night." He immediately broke into laughter.

"Swap score-cards?"

"Girlfriends!"

"Ah, got it!"

"I was just bullshitting, you know."

"Yeah, I got it."

"We were both bullshitting about our girls, right?"

I laughed a cloud of smoke. Every guy Mia met had a crush on her, and hearing Paul repeatedly stress he was only bullshitting lead me to believe he was at least horny for her.

Mia's a beauty. Her red hair hangs straight for a few inches and then turns into big looping curls that circle her head like the brim of a hat. She almost always hooks them behind her ears or ties them up into a springy ponytail, which I prefer because it showcases her elfish cheekbones and roundish forehead. She also has twinkling green eyes set into very shallow eye sockets, granting her a look I lovingly refer to as "Irish Exotic". At five-seven she isn't really short, but Mia has a long svelte neck, lowering her shoulder line and granting her a more petite body. Thankfully her slender ribcage and narrow tummy help maintain an elegant length to her proportions and make her smaller tits look substantial. They also help launch the gorgeous curves bowing around her hips and ass before they dramatically taper down her long shapely legs. Mia avoids make-up and sexier clothing, going for a natural sunnier look and allowing her God-given beauty to stand on its own.

But what really stole

my

heart was her spirited attitude. Her mission in life appeared to be waking mankind from a state of depression, with an arsenal of fun, fearlessness, and a total love of adventure. A few have referred to Mia as an attention whore, but time with her always amounted to one memorable moment after the next, and its a criticism made by bores and fueled with envy.

Paul, on the contrary, came off as an incredibly tactile guy, a trait typically at odds with Mia's spontaneity. Just that afternoon he'd led us twenty miles on mountain-bikes to a place called The Gorge, and about three miles out, Mia diverted us towards the remains of a burned out house. She searched the aged debris strewn over the old slab foundation, determined to find a lost belonging to reveal the lives of those who lived there. We were free to leave when I discovered an old picture frame in the bushes, which she held like some mystic channeling the past. By then no one seemed too interested in reaching The Gorge, and I could tell Paul was a bit annoyed his day had been derailed.

I also suspected he despised women he couldn't control, which is why it

really

surprised me to discover he'd go for Mia. And as Paul and I smoked down our cigars, I felt surging pride knowing that this man, who probably carried more debt than the government in his pursuit of the finest pleasures in life, desired my girlfriend. In fact, he desired her so bad he'd have me fuck his girl in trade.

I needed to hear more, my buzzed ego demanded it, and I baited him by suggesting he let me have one final night as a free man, and stuff Emily's cannoli full of some sausage.

He tapped the ashes from his cigar. "You couldn't handle Emily, my friend. She's one hell of a nasty girl."

"I don't know about that, I think Mia's prepared me for anything."

"Yeah, I can only imagine she's a pretty wild lay. But if you let me snake her plumbing I'll make an experienced woman out of her. I'll give you back a pretty girlfriend who knows more positions than a Rubik's Cube."

We split a gut laughing, and kept on 'bullshitting', until suddenly we weren't bullshitting anymore. He suggested we get the girls drunk and really swap, and if I'd been sober I would've flat out said no, but instead I used Mia as my excuse, saying she wouldn't go for it.

"I have a pretty good idea how Mia's wired." He tapped more ashes over the porch railing. "She'll go along with it just to spite us. She's a feisty one, man, she'd turn it around just to knock us down a peg. Am I right?"

It amazed me he thought he knew her so well. "That's a stretch, man."

"Come on," he persisted, "You complained she's always putting herself at the mercy of strangers for the sake of adventure, so put her at the mercy of a friend instead."

"I said she's too trusting of strangers."

"How's that any different? Listen, Emily does these exercises called Kegals. Let me tell you, you haven't ever felt anything like a Kegal tightened pussy. It's almost as good as this." He then displayed his glass before his face

"Almost

?"

"Hey, this is

really

good Cognac!"

The thought of Emily's tight pussy made his proposition very enticing, and after returning inside, Paul saw to it their mugs of mulled wine never went dry.

Eventually the girls were ready to call it a night and we headed off to bed. Mia had reached her giggly level of drunkenness. She'd agree to almost anything in that state, and as I shut the pine slated door to our bedroom, I searched for a way to broach the subject. Before I could, however, we climbed into bed and immediately began to fool around, and then it seemed impossible. I kissed her gently and let my hands roam up to her tits and my tongue wind down her neck. She has lovely youthful tits, just big enough to feel some heft as I held one, and to swell outwards as I squeezed. Her nipples are tiny, and because of this I tend to treat them delicately. I don't know why, other than they just seem so perfectly perched on top of her boob and I hate disturbing them. I rolled one gently between my lips, sucking no harder than I would hot soup.

Because she has a voice like Fiona Apple and a presence bigger than a house, I tend to forget her smaller size until I actually touch her, and then it just amazes me a one-twenty-pound creature can drive a six-foot one-eighty guy utterly helpless with desire.

She began to hum, and so I spread her legs, deciding I'd really give her something to hum about. My mouth found her exposed and wet. My thumb rubbed the little patch of bush above it. She didn't grow much pubic hair to begin with, and waxed those fine hairs into a narrow landing strip. As I tongued her with increasing intensely, her humming progressed into soft moans. The sound she made was so utterly cute and sexy I almost forgot I'd soon need to abandon her. But some 'strange' waited in the other bedroom, and Paul would soon be here between Mia's legs.

Weirdly enough, I wanted Paul to have her––I wanted him to know what a great fuck she could be. I wanted him to be there at my wedding, envying me for landing such a juicy hot fuck.

I lifted my mouth from Mia's drenched labia, and asked how badly she wanted it.

"Very!" she moaned.

I slipped two fingers inside her and began to frig her little bunny hole.

As feisty as she was, she let me direct all her wild energy during sex, so I took her hand and replaced mine with hers. She took over pleasuring herself as I kissed her delicate nipples. I couldn't see in the darkness, but the sounds of wet smacking flesh painted a vivid picture of her digging in two-knuckles-deep.

"Could you ever see yourself fucking Paul?"

The sound of her wet smacking pussy ceased. "

Fucking Paul

?"

"Yeah, Paul."

In an effort to ease any suspicions I might have, she laughed. "Paul's a little too into himself. That doesn't really do it for me."

"Yeah, but Mitch was never your type."

"

True

, he wasn't."

She spoke carefully now, trying to piece together where I might be headed with this. It may have been a mistake mentioning Mitch's name, but before growing fed up with chasing down the flighty, flakey, surfer dude, they'd had a hot and heavy couple of weeks dating.

"So I'm just wondering if you think Paul's looks are anywhere near Mitch's. You know, attractive enough to take to bed?"

I found her fingers, licked them clean and returned them to her wet pussy. She compliantly resumed business, and the room again filled with sounds of her wet pussy being pleasured.

"I suppose he's handsome. If I

found

him in my bed, I probably wouldn't kick him out."

Her sudden change of heart led me to believe she'd figured out the entirety of our plan, and did exactly what Paul said she'd do––acted into it just to spite me!

"So if he walked through the door while I was gone..."

Her fingers quickened and she moaned. "I'd keep him very warm."

"Good!"

"And I suppose you plan to keep Emily very warm?"

I

suddenly found myself having to choose words carefully. "That's the plan. This is one hell of an adventure, babe. It's a real chance to wander into the dark woods, naked and free."

"Into the woods where a big bad wolf is waiting for me!"

The sound in the room grew louder, wetter, and faster than before. God she was fucking hot. I muttered that I loved her, and then rushed out the door while I still could.

I met Paul in the dark living room and we flashed each other our square flat condom packages. He quietly boasted what serious balls we had, and we softly hi-fived before continuing on our separate ways.

As soon as I stepped inside, Emily spoke, telling me to hurry up and get into bed. The sound of her voice was strange and startling. She slurred her words and her throat crackled seductively. Not knowing what to say, I charged the bed and dove onto the bottom half, then quickly cuddled up next to her and unleashed my hands over her body. I trembled nervously, but once my mouth found a nipple to suck on, my fear transformed into need. I recalled the sight of those beauties earlier, the sides visible from the loose tank top, and now those globes of squishy fun were in my hands as I sucked back and forth between nipples. Unbelievable!

She seemed as cool as a marble statue about the arrangement, yet her body burned at the touch of my hands. It helped me grow bolder and hornier by the second, and I descended onto her pussy with a hungry mouth. My tongue made its way into her wishing well and instantly became a conduit between more than just flesh. Her pussy exploded with heat and secreted fluid like a sponge in vice grips. I tasted her, much like Paul's pricey Cognac, and that little slurp of her soul would remain in my catalogue of worldly pleasures forever.

Minutes later we fucked. I could tell she was tired, but I had to come inside her. We spooned as I slowly pushed my cockhead in, and she moaned a guttural, "uh!" Wasting no time, I soon pounded her in that position. My dick wasn't just inside her, it fucked her tight little cooch righteously. I lifted her leg up and placed my hand alongside the action. Using my palm, I tugged the skin away, opening her wider.

She moaned in her crackly drunken voice as I pumped that stretched open pussy hard for several minutes. Even stretched open, her pussy gripped me as tight as Paul claimed it would, and I concentrated on that fact to help bring myself off. After a crescendo of fuck-me's, she began to quiet down, and I realized she might be passing out, so I hastened my pace and headed towards climax like a dog on a fox hunt.

It was a short fuck, but it left me remarkably satisfied. I mean, when you're with someone for the first time, there's a tendency to hold back and keep to the basics, since you never quite know what she'll consider obscene, and while technically you might have fucked the girl, you can't really say you've

had

her––I mean, you've barely backed the car out of the garage and broke first gear, right?. Well I at least got Emily out for a perfect lap, during which time she was well and proper fucked. I'd

had

her, and felt very great about it in my afterglow.