Reader I Pimped His Cock

Transcribed from tape ...

Why am I here to talk to you? Well, first of all, I've consumed a lot of erotica and enjoyed most of it and I've always thought maybe I could contribute something to the archives. I've had a lot of fun out of being a sexual woman and I want to record that I don't regret it. I don't want to encourage other women to do what I've done, necessarily, but I do want other women to know it is possible to follow your urges and still have a happy marriage. And in particular, I want them to know there is more than one way to be a 'loving wife'.

As you know, that usually means fucking other men while your partner watches, or doing it with his consent and telling him about it. I can understand why some men want that, God knows. And I can understand why some women enjoy it. It could be the ideal arrangement, couldn't it? But I've seen videos where I doubted whether it was what the woman really wanted. There is something in her eyes that says she is going along with it for his sake. I might have done the same myself. Ron was the love of my life but he was not the first and I know that from both sides of a relationship, you do get to a point where the same old same old is sometimes not quite enough any more. When I sensed me and Ron and had got there, I would have done anything I needed to do to get the spark back. And he was interested in sexual games all right. He loved to hear me fantasise about getting fucked by more than one man, or watch me getting horny watching it happen on videos. But I wasn't sure he would take it well in real life. And I wasn't sure I really wanted it, either. Happily, I found another way, that made us both happy. You're guessing it, I can see. I thought this line might make the start of my story -- Reader, I pimped his cock.

It was a nice cock. I'd had a lot of fun out of it. And like any satisfied woman, I had friends who were a bit jealous of what I had. You might be surprised how hard it is for an older woman to fix a fuck which doesn't come with a lot of unwelcome baggage. But I didn't do it as social work. I did it because it turned me on. Same way some guys want to see their women open up for another man, I fantasized about seeing his cock going into someone else. I wanted to see what others would see if they were watching us. And once I'd made it happen, I got hooked on the experience. As for Ron, well, what man could ask for more?

It started with a birthday treat. I didn't mind sucking his cock but it's not my specialty and I always wanted to switch to fucking before he unloaded. He was good about it but I knew he would like a full blow-job. And I wanted to watch him get it. In the back of my purse, I had a card I'd picked up from a professional I got talking to one night, out on the town with the girls. She was classy and funny and we were all fascinated when she confessed how she made her living. Also, she had a little angle which I found intriguing at the time and had never quite got out of my mind. Her business card had a little picture on it of a woman in hat and sunglasses and full make-up, looking sultry behind a half-opened window onto the back seat of one of those big square London-style taxis. It said: "BLUE CABS. Mobile personal services. Meet me on a wide leather back seat, behind tinted windows, and tell me what you want." And then there was her name, Sally, and a mobile number.

Anyway, I called it, sometime in the run-up to Ron's **th birthday, and met Sally for a drink and asked her what the deal was. She said it was like it said on the ticket -- her working space was the back of a specially converted cab, all closed off and private. It was £100 for her, for up to an hour, and £50 for the driver, plus whatever was on the meter. She said there was some legal angle concerning premises which made it a good gimmick and, anyway, the punters liked it. Also, she said, it concentrated the client's mind, the old meter ticking away. I remember she said: "You could call it a productivity strategy."

I just had to fix to get Ron in the right place at the right time, but that was easy enough. I arranged to meet him after work, in a bar in the city centre, and at the appointed time, just as dusk was closing in and the lights were coming on, I said: "Right. We need to go now. I've got a surprise waiting for you."

He followed me out and Sally's cab was waiting on the corner. I checked the licence plate and got in and took one of the bucket seats, facing the rear. Ron was a bit taken aback when he started to follow me and saw Sally waiting in the back seat. But he just smiled and shut the door and sat at the opposite end from her and waited for me to explain.

I said: "Happy Birthday, darling. This Sally and she's going to give you your present while I watch."

Sally grinned at him. She looked great. She was wearing a green satin suit with a short skirt and big green ear studs to match. She lifted her legs onto the seat to give him a look at what was under the skirt and I could see it too -- nothing, in short, except a neatly trimmed but still darkly hairy pussy. His favourite. She said to me: "Are you going to get him ready, darling?" And I reached across and unzipped Ron's fly and got his cock out. It was uncoiling nicely and she gave him a complimentary mm. She reached into a pocket and took out a johnny and opened it with her teeth, looking at both of us for an okay. Ron didn't normally like them but he wasn't going to say no to this one and he was already big enough for her to get it on him when she knelt forward. She had chin-length brown hair and she held it back with one hand, on my side, so I could watch her doing her. Ron moaned and laid back a bit and gave me a half-disbelieving but ecstatic smile and helped her to pull his trousers and pants down, so she could get hold of his balls while she sucked.

I was interested to see the little tricks she used, like pulling down on his cock to make the knob end swell up into her mouth. I was getting as hot as Ron was and I shifted to the other bucket seat, so I could get a hand up Sally's skirt. She wriggled herself onto my fingers and went down deep on Ron. For a couple of minutes, we all writhed and gasped against each other in that little space, with the lights of the city illuminating the scene and people looking in from other cars and the pavement, but seeing nothing behind the tinted glass. Ron came in three great shudders and Sally fell forward into his lap, holding the johnny in place, and turned her ass round towards me so I could ruck her skirt up and get my face into it. With my nose in her asshole, I could just reach that whore's pussy with my lips and tongue and I ate it until her sugar and spice ran down my chin. Ron liked me to say it like that when we talked about it after. I still haven't forgotten the taste. I could see why people get hooked on it. Much nicer, if I may say so, than semen.

We all got straightened up and, funny, we then all shook hands. I got out my purse and Sally knocked on the driver's partition and checked what we owed him and I paid up. She kissed Ron and me both good night before we got out and I told her she'd been worth every penny and she said why thankyou, sounding really genuine, like she didn't normally get that sort of appreciation. Can we just pause the tape while I have a drink of water?

**

Well, Ron and I fucked on the memory of that little episode for a good while. And I was so pleased with it, and so full of it, I eventually couldn't resist telling a friend, Shirley -- about most of it, at least. I forgot to mention my introduction to muff-diving. But I talked about the thrill of the observer point of view. I thought she might want to do the same for her old fella. A few days later, she called me out for coffee.

She said: "Look. You know you said it was a turn-on, watching Ron with that girl?" And when I said Yes, she said: "Would you like to do it again?" And when I said Yes again, she told me what she had in mind. She wanted to be watched. And she wondered if I could come to terms with watching her with my man. She'd always fancied him and things weren't too good at home and, well, she thought it might suit us all.

I took the proposition calmly and said I'd consider it. But I already knew I wanted to do it. And after I failed to hit the ceiling at the very idea, we were quickly into discussing details. After that, it was just a question of preparing the way.

The tart in the taxi, Sally, was a pretty girl, under 30. My friend Shirley is around the same age as me, and I'm only six months younger than Ron was. She looks after herself well. But it was a different sort of offer. Generally, let's face it, you pay for sex in order to get it with somebody younger than you are. However, Ron was just as keen as I hoped he would be.

I told Shirley my rules: no kissing and no follow-ups without me being there. And we fixed a date. Then she rang me just about every day until it happened.

First, she wanted to discuss what to wear. We had a good time on that but when I suggested stockings and suspenders, as a sort of gesture to tradition, she dug her heels in, so to speak. What she wanted, it emerged, was to wear tights so Ron could tear a hole in them and fuck her through it. I told him about that.

Second, she wanted to know what Ron liked. I said that was simple -- pussy. She wanted to know whether to shave hers. I said it was up to her. He would appreciate the trouble, and he would be turned on by her concern for the look of it, but he would be very happy with au naturel. She said she worried about being a bit bushy. I said he would like that. I was quite looking forward to seeing it myself, to be honest

Finally, and endlessly, she wanted to talk about pictures. She didn't just want to be watched, it emerged. She wanted to be photographed. Up close and personal.

She kept saying she wanted to go "quite explicit" with the pictures. Did I know what she meant? I would say I thought so, in the hope of making her spell it out, but she would not get more specific. And actually, I knew fine what she meant. She wanted the photos I wanted to take. I bought a little video camera and sat in front of a mirror, practising zooming in on my own cunt.

When it came to it, she had upped the game a bit on the tights idea. She was wearing jodphurs. She's a little bit plump and if we had been going out, I would have warned her off pants that tight. But they did a good job of making her look ready for fucking. They hugged up her juice box into something that looked like a ripe fruit, ready and waiting to nestle into a welcoming hand. It must have taken her half an hour to do the zip up.

We drank a couple of martinis and ate some nibbles at the kitchen table. Then we moved into the living room for a smoke of wacky. Shirley sat on a cushion with her knees up and her punani on show. I couldn't take my eyes off it and I was getting very close to saying something about it when Ron spoke up. He said it out straight: "If you'll excuse me saying so, Shirley, I just can't take my eyes off that fine fat thing you've got waiting inside those pants."

Shirley took another pull at her joint. Then, she got up and stood in front of us, sat together on the settee, and started shimmying to the music we were playing, which was old r'n'b -- the real sort, not the stuff they give that label nowadays. She was shaking her fanny right in Ron's face. He got up and started to dance with her and I reached for the camera.

He put his hands on her ass and she got one on his back and one on his crotch. I filmed her stroking him and then him undoing her white shirt. Her tits were loose underneath it and he took one in each hand and crouched and flicked his tongue over each of her big pink nipples. They swelled up instantly, like little clitties, and her eyes filmed over and her mouth dropped open. She knelt down and unzipped Ron and hauled his cock out and clamped her mouth around it. She had chosen lipstick for the occasion and it made a nice picture. Ron was quite dark-skinned, so you had this brown penis easing through her white hand and in and out of this startling red O she had lippied up. She's always had these very bright blue eyes and she used them to hold my gaze and the camera's.

Ron took her arms and lifted her upright again and played her nipples with his thumbs while I got behind him and undid his laces and then his belt. I got his shoes and socks off first because I've always had a thing about socks before trousers, please. Then I got his chinos off, so he was wearing just a polo shirt. Then I picked up the camera again and followed as he gently walked Shirley backwards to the end of our chaise longue and leaned her against the high end of it. He pulled down the zip in her jodphurs and they opened like cut rubber. She was wearing no pants and her mound, covered in a light blond fuzz, swelled into view like a peach being unwrapped.

Ron knelt and gave it a lick, then got one big finger into the bottom of her fly and tore downwards and there was Shirley's pussy, gaping out of the torn fabric, already open. I remember thinking it looked like one of those jungle flowers designed to attract and swallow insects. I kept watching through the camera and I followed Ron's tongue as he licked her from asshole to stomach. Then he stood and shoved halfway into her and I focused in close as he pushed deeper and deeper until he was up to the hilt, with his black curls all tangled up with her fine blonde fur. I put my fingers in there and eased him out a bit so I could get a shot of his cock all shiny with her juice before he went in hard again. Shirley was leaned back against the chaise, holding herself up with her arms on the raised end, shuddering and squeaking as she was fucked. It wasn't clear whether it was cock or camera which was getting her going but it definitely worked for her, anyway. And I knew what she was feeling so well I felt it myself, deep in my own tummy.

When Ron came, and fell out of her, she dropped down and sucked him dry and then got up and kissed me, shoving her spunky tongue into my mouth, so we shared the taste. A bit like seawater, if you've never tried it.

I fetched some beers and a towel and after a bit of a wipe, she sat down to drink hers with her swollen puss still out on show, while Ron got dressed. It looked so rude it was another turn-on, and it gave me my end shots. I could see her pussy twitching in response to the camera. Then we went into the bedroom and found her some jeans to wear home.

Excuse me while I light a cigarette?

**

Anyway, like I said to you on the phone, there is a lot more to tell. You would not believe the women who came running when they got word of free cock on offer, with no strings. It was like a lightning bolt going through our little suburban scene. It woke up a lot of dormant pussy. There were some younger girls, too, surprisingly, who just wanted the experience, but mainly it was women my age or near, or even older.

Later, when there was a group of us, all exchanging emails, one of them wrote: "The magazines seem to think all we need at our age is chocolate, or some hunky tv baker kneading dough, or some cute little boy-bander to dribble over. But there is nothing like a real man giving you real cock out of real lust, and I thank you and Ron for reminding us all it is what we were missing."

I got my kicks out of it but I started to think I was actually doing some good. Everyone is fixated on young bodies. All right, a middle-aged minge might not be as pretty but it can still be a very live thing and filming it in action, in real-life fucking, I captured that animal hunger which is what is really sexy. Same with Ron. He was big and burly and hairy-assed rather than slim and six-packed and polished, but a lot of women quite like that bear thing, same as a lot of men like granny fanny. And he did like that, by the way. The more he got it, the more he loved it. And I loved it too. He saw real women getting their pants off and he knew he was about to get one of the fucks of his life. So he as getting hard-ons like a teenager out of bodies like mine. And when I wasn't giving him a fresh one, he'd come into mine like a train.

We got to be quite a society -- Ron's Blue Girls. We'd go out together and having something so intimate in common made it special. Getting fucked, and getting photographed like a porn queen, gives a girl confidence, and we made quite a spectacle, the way we dressed and the way we were so close. Occasionally, somebody would ask what it was that made us a club, and that gave us a lot of laughs, thinking how we could tell them and what they would say.

Since we lost Ron, we've talked about posting the tapes as a sort of archive in his honour. There are still a few hesitations about that, but it was what a lot of the girls wanted in the first place -- not just the fuck, but immortality for their cock appeal.

Anyway, the first next thing was Shirley coming back to see her film. She wanted to bring somebody with her. When I asked who, she said I'd never guess. And she was right about that. But I'll save that story for next time?