Quic! Get Under the Bed!

I have been happily married for almost ten years to a wonderful man and we love each other dearly. We had met in college at Charlottesville. I was a virgin when we married and he introduced me to sex. We have a wonderful home in northern Virginia and my husband is a very good provider. He treats me like a queen. And I feel like I am his queen. He gives me lots of wonderful things and for our third anniversary, he gave me a Nissan 360 Z convertible. I love driving with the top down and the wind in my blond, curly hair.

We belong to a fabulous country club where we golf and Harry has three regular golf buddies, who are also very close friends. Their wives and I often have lunch together. We like the social events at the club and have frequent parties at our home for Harry's friends and business associates. Harry runs a very successful business that requires him to travel a day or so once a week throughout the northeast. But the best thing about Harry is that he trusts me to be ever faithful to him. That is very important to me – I never want to lose that trust. This story is about the time I blundered and came very close to losing his trust.

I always thought Harry was a normal guy. Since I had never seen any sexual equipment except his, he was my standard of reference. The first time I suspected that he might be smaller than most other guys was shortly after we celebrated our third wedding anniversary. Harry was in New York and I went to the club for Happy Hour – the club does this every Thursday night. Harry has this very good friend George who plays in his regular Saturday foursome. George's wife had gone to Chicago see her mother who was in the hospital for some kind of operation.

George and I sat at the bar, spouseless, and drank together. I had a little more than I should have, so I agreed when George suggested we go out to get a light dinner at Tommy Bahamas. I left my Nissan in the club parking lot and rode with George. I had three of those big, sweet, tropical drinks loaded with rum with dinner. When it was time to leave I was staggering in the parking lot and no way was I gonna be able to drive so George took me home. He had to help me upstairs to bed. I must have passed out on the stairs.

I have only vague recollections of that night, but the one thing I do remember for sure is that George fucked my brains out and I had a bunch of orgasms. It was after seven AM when I woke up in bed with him. Both of us were naked and he was lying next to me playing with my tits and sucking on my nipples. I reached down to my crotch and it was wet and sticky with his semen. The sheet under me had a large wet spot. I was still trying to figure out what the hell had happened when George rolled over between my legs and started to fuck me. I was groggy, almost like I was dreaming. But I had an orgasm and he came right after me. Getting fucked finally woke me up.

"Oh my God! What have I done?" I screamed frantically. Then I started crying.

George laughed. "You just got fucked! And that was a damn good fuck!"

"I've never been with anybody except Harry," I sobbed.

"Jesus Reba! You gotta be kidding. I'm your first?"

"You're my first. How do I tell my husband?" I kept on crying.

"You don't tell him is how you tell him. Do you have any idea what he'd do? I know Harry. He thinks unfaithful wives should have their tits cut off and their pussy sewed shut." George laughed again. "You don't tell him a thing!"

I lay there trying to get control of myself. "Oh God! You're right! I've heard him call unfaithful wives very dirty names."

"Come on baby," George said, getting out of bed, and pulling me with him. "Let's hit the shower. I'm gonna be late for work."

He led me into the bathroom and into our large double shower, which was Harry's pride and joy, although we rarely used it together. We stood under the triple sprays of hot water and the room got all foggy around us. George started lathering me up with liquid soap. He started with my tits. What the hell, I thought, in for a penny in for a pound! I squirted out a handful of soap, rubbed my hands together, and went to work on his belly, his ass, and down to his balls.

That's when it happened! Even to this day I remember the shock when I felt the size of his balls. They were huge! They had to be at least an inch in diameter. And his cock was big. He was bigger soft than Harry was with a hard on – his dick was almost five inches long. It filled my hand soft! Harry barely did that when he was hard. I started telling George how big his equipment was and he pulled away from me suddenly, looking angry.

"Come on baby. Are you putting me on? Are you making fun of my dick?"

What had I done to upset him? "No, I mean, you have a very nice dick."

"I thought for a minute you were kidding me. I'm average. I got a six inch dick when I'm hard and that's about average I guess. I've always been a little nervous in the shower room with other guys. I didn't mean to jump on you. But ... well ... you know."

We dressed and I blow-dried my hair and as he drove me to the club to get my car, I couldn't get my mind off of his cock. If George was average, then what was Harry. Harry's dick was about four inches with a hard on and his testicles were tiny compared to George. If George was average what did it mean when gals said a guy was "hung?" My God! I thought. What would "hung" look like?

Harry got home that afternoon and we went to the club for dinner. George was having a drink at the bar and Harry led me over to join him.

"Did you get us a tee time for tomorrow?" Harry asked.

"Ten o'clock sharp," George answered.

"Great! If you're still a bachelor, why not join us for dinner?"

That night my husband and I had dinner with a guy I was fucking less than twelve hours earlier. It felt very strange sitting with him at the same table. In the course of a routine conversation George asked about Harry's next trip and when Harry said Tuesday, George looked at me and smiled. I felt like a whore when I nodded my head slightly. I was gonna fuck him again Tuesday night and I was looking forward to it!

I fucked George regularly, maybe a couple of times a week, for over a year. He would get away from his wife one evening when Harry was on the road and stop by for a "nooner" when Harry was at work. We developed a comfortable, affectionate, sex routine and I had regular orgasms – at least two every time George fucked me. With Harry I was lucky to get one orgasm out of three fucks, except when he ate pussy.

The problem with Harry in bed was not just that he had a little dick. His problem was that he could only fuck for three or four minutes, before his little pecker started to squirt, and he almost never fucked me twice. George thought that was funny and suggested things I could do to make him last longer – like give him a blow job before he fucked me. I tried that.

I could take all of Harry's little pecker into my mouth without gagging – it just didn't go that far back in my throat. Harry would get real macho and put both hands on the back of my head and hump to make me take it all – but I almost laughed when he did that because I remembered that George's big (excuse me – average) cock would make me gag if I took it deep. Once or twice I got Harry to fuck me after I blew him and George was right – he did last longer, but that routine got to be a pain in the ass.

Another difference between George and Harry was the load of semen each pumped. George would just fill up my mouth and some would drip out on my chin, but Harry's load was small – like his balls. That was an advantage though, because when Harry fucked me in bed it was never enough to make me have to change the sheets. If George fucked me in the afternoon, I had to put on fresh sheets before Harry got home, otherwise Harry would have been sleeping in a wet spot.

Harry was a lousy fuck, but he could eat pussy like a connoisseur. He would bury his face in my thick, curly haired beaver and go to work on my clit and pussy lips with his mouth and tongue. He could bring me off every time. The trouble was that he went through phases – he'd eat pussy every day for a month, but then stop for weeks at a time. That's why I needed George.

George and I had a wonderful affair. We never got tired of fucking each other. But then one day, George said that his wife was suspicious that he was having an affair. She didn't exactly accuse him of it and he was never sure why she suspected him, but she started checking up on him and he got scared and we stopped seeing each other.

I got a new bikini and started hanging out at the club pool. The guys liked to look and I figured sooner or later I would get some action. I had gotten used to being well fucked on a regular basis and now Harry was just not enough to satisfy me. Another guy in Harry's golf foursome, Bob, seemed interested. I smiled at him when I saw him inspecting my body.

While I was looking for a new guy, a funny thing happened in our political climate. One of our state pols had had the bad luck to have his wife, Gretchen, get caught having an affair, and the local papers were filled with pictures of her and motel signs and all sorts of scandalous details. I thought Harry was going to have a stroke. Every evening, reading the paper, he would shout "BITCH" or "CUNT" or some dirty word and say things like, "Kick the slut to the curb." He got very angry at the newspaper and shouted at the television set. But strangely, his sex life got a lot better.

Harry now wanted sex several times a week. But best of all he'd eat pussy – a lot of pussy. I found out that telling him what "the ladies at the club" said about Gretchen really set him off, and I got to saving up stories to whisper to him after we went to bed. He always got a hard on when I told him stories about Gretchen cucking her husband. And then he went down on me and slurped up my juices till I had an orgasm. Then he would jack off and tell me how happy he was that he could trust me to be true.

It was about this time that I discovered Harry using his computer to read sex stories on dirty websites. I looked over his shoulder a couple of times when he didn't notice. The next day when he was at work I turned on his computer and checked where he had been in the "History" of his websites and I discovered he was reading stories about loving wives who cuckolded their husbands. Then I noticed he was writing really ugly comments to the authors of these stories. Sometimes he even shouted bad things at his computer monitor.

Then I noticed something else. Often, when he was reading the cuck stories on the web he got an erection. I could see his little pecker just standing up in his pants. Those nights he was much more horny than usual and always ate pussy. He got even more excited when I whispered things the girls at the club had said about Gretchen. I don't know why these things turned him on but it was nice to have a way to excite him. I began to make up rumors about couples he didn't even know. It was fun. It was like having an on/off switch for his libido.

I went about two months without a replacement for George. Harry had stopped eating pussy, even when I told him cuck stories about Gretchen, and I was starting to get really horny. Harry's golf buddy Bob, finally walked over one day at the club pool and asked if he could join me. I was very friendly and gave him some good views of my body – I really looked great in a bikini. He knew that Harry was out of town.

"Would you like to have dinner with me tonight?" Bob asked. "I know that Harry is off somewhere till Friday and you look so lonely."

I flashed him my biggest smile. I threw my shoulders back to make my tits stand out. I was so horny it was hard to stay calm. My pussy started to get wet just talking to him. That bastard had a sure thing going for him – like shooting fish in a barrel, and I think he knew it.

"I'd love to have dinner with you," I said. "What should I wear?"

"Something short and slinky," he said, laughing.

I knew just the thing. I had a black, thigh-high mini that showed off my boobs and legs and seemed to cling to my body, showing off my ass. With spike heels, my legs looked great. Harry hated that dress because it made guys look at me when we went out.

That night we went to a quiet little place in another town and he got us a nice table in a dimly lit part of the restaurant. We had drinks and then a light meal. He looked at my cleavage – my dress showed off my boobs really well. I leaned forward a lot to let him look. Walking back to the parking lot he had a chance to grab my ass – and I giggled. When we got home I invited him in for drinks and suggested that he put his car around back, out of sight.

He had not a single doubt in his mind that I wanted to fuck him. I was just too damn horny to hide it. I needed it and that bastard could read me like a book.

"What time does your wife expect you back home?" I asked.

"Around midnight," he replied. "I usually go out with the guys from the lodge for a couple of drinks after the meeting."

I smiled. "That gives us three hours."

We had another drink and then went up to the master bedroom. We kissed and started to undress. I was horny and in a hurry. So was he. When I got naked, I gave him a good look at my body. I'm five-four, 110 pounds with a flat belly, a really hairy beaver, great legs, and nice tits. I have a great suntan except where my bikini keeps me milky white. I posed naked in my spike heels and gave him a good look. He could see that I was not a natural blond.

When Bob dropped his shorts he was beautiful. A cock much bigger than George – it had to be over eight inches long – and it was thick and sticking straight out. He had low hanging balls and they were huge. When I measured his cock with my fingers it was over twice the length of Harry's little four-incher. I realized why George might get intimidated in the shower with this stud. I think this was what the gals meant when they said, "really hung." Too bad I couldn't brag about him to some girlfriend.

I pulled the covers back and jumped in bed. Bob crawled on top of me and I guided that monster into a dripping wet hole and Jesus! It felt good! I hadn't been fucked like this in over two months. He fucked with long, slow, deep thrusts and I was pumping my ass, desperate to get him deeper. I came in just a few minutes, well before he did and he laughed when he felt my contractions. That bastard could tell how horny I was and he thought it was funny.

"Damn that pussy is tight," he said. "Let's see if I can loosen it up a little."

With that he started pounding me really hard and fast. I'd never been fucked like that in my life and it felt wonderful except it didn't last long enough for me to come again. He pumped a huge load into me and I could feel it running out of my pussy, down over my asshole, and onto the bed sheet. Well, I thought, gotta change those damn sheets tomorrow before Harry gets home. I didn't try sucking that monster, but he fucked me twice more before he had to leave. I'd had three orgasms by the time he left. For me that was a record for three hours.

I fucked Bob regularly about twice a week for almost two years. We had a wonderful affair. I learned to appreciate a really big dick, although George had taught me that if a guy was skillful and took good care of a woman, a big dick was far less important that most women thought.

I figured I would have a long dry spell after Bob and I drifted apart – again because of his wife's suspicions. Damn wives! But there was no dry spell at all. The third partner in Harry's golf foursome, Mike, hit on me at the club the next time Harry was out of town.

That was just too damn convenient to be a coincidence and after I'd fucked him for several weeks I challenged him.

"Mike, was it George or Bob that told you about me?" I asked straight-out one night lying in bed as we recovered from the first fuck of what was to be a long evening.

He looked at me for a moment. "Well, don't get mad, but it was actually both of them."

"You bastards!" I laughed. "You've been sitting around drinking beer and talking about fucking me. Haven't you? Who else knows?"

"Nobody! I swear! Nobody! Jesus Reba, we're all three married! And we're married to three very jealous women. If word got back to any one of them they'd talk to each other and take us for every penny we have."

"You're sure?" I asked suspiciously.

"I'm sure. I swear it," he said and I believed him.

From that time on it was so easy to get laid that I could get fucked whenever I wanted. The guys could get away from their wives real easy now. They just said they were going out for a pizza and I think their wives were not suspicious when two or three guys went out together. By now I was smart enough to have them park their cars down the street so no one would notice.

These were wonderful, fun years. I got all the sex I needed and a lot of funny things happened. One night Harry got home just a couple of hours after George left. For God know what reason, that night Harry decided to eat pussy. I had wiped myself off but I still had a pussy full of thick, creamy cum. And as Harry was eating me out he noticed a change in the way I tasted.

He looked up from between my spread legs. "You taste different," he said.

Jesus! I thought, he's eating out George's cum. "Maybe it's my new deodorant," I said, desperate to say something - anything. "I'm using a new one."

"Yeah," he said and went back to eating pussy.

"Do you want me to stop using it?" I asked.

"No, keep on using it," he said. "It tastes kinda good actually. I like it."

I made the terrible mistake of telling that story to the guys a week later when they all came over to fuck me. I guess it was just too funny not to tell it. We all laughed, but within a week, poor Harry came home from a round of golf telling me how the guys said their wives were using a new deodorant that made their pussies taste different. Those bastards were joking about him eating George's cum out of my pussy. And my poor husband had no idea that they were laughing at him.

I was more careful about what I told them after that. Harry was going through a pussy-eating phase – this happened every few months - and he got to eat a lot more cum out of my pussy, but I stopped telling the guys about it. I just needed to fuck those horny bastards! I loved Harry and didn't want him laughed at. Cum makes your pussy smell bad when it gets stale, so I tried to feed it to him as fresh as possible – after all, Harry treated me well and he deserved the very best.

I got to be really good friends with their wives. We would often have lunch at the club and our "girl talk" got to be more intimate. Quite by accident I found out why George's wife suspected he was seeing another woman several years ago. She was telling Mike's wife that a couple of times she thought she smelled pussy on his shorts when she did the laundry. Jesus! Men! Why the hell can't they wash their dicks after they get laid? You can be sure I warned the guys about that!

One day I was having lunch with the girls at the club and they invited me out to dinner with them that night at a fancy restaurant. "This is the boys' pizza night," they said. Of course I had to decline their kind invitation. The boys' pizza night would have been a total disaster if I had gone out with their wives. Besides I had a hell of lot more fun with the boys – especially in that big shower.

Some of the best fun I had was in that shower. Harry had built this big double shower with several nozzles and the three guys would get me in there, play with me to turn me on, and then butt-fuck me. Jesus that felt good! All that water cascading down on us! All foggy and steamy! They bent me over and I grabbed a big chrome bar. I stood with my legs spread wide while they lubricated their dicks with liquid soap. Then I'd take it up the ass and they'd take turns butt-fucking me. A guy would have one hand on my tits and the other on my clit. Damn! Taking it up the ass felt so good that I'd start talking real dirty – I didn't usually do that in bed – and the guys would laugh at me and make fun of me for talking like a slut.