The Generation Game Ch 04 1

This off-shoot is especially for readers who were concerned about Claire Swann, Graham's wife. I'm experimenting with tense and narrative structure, so please do let me know in the comments what you think :)

. . .

When, years ago, the stories broke about Michael Douglas' divorce, I had immense sympathy for his wife, Diandra. Whatever my envious friends - who considered it kind of adorable that Graham and I were always late for parties (the sight of me all tarted up having an aphrodisiac effect on him) and frequently disappeared during the course of the evening, returning flushed and dishevelled - might think, being married to a sex addict was no picnic.

My husband needs sex several times a day. I have no need for an alarm clock: I'm woken without fail every morning at half past five by his weight as he climbs between my legs and slides his fat dick into me. When he gets home from work he likes a more leisurely fuck, usually doggy style in front of our mirrored wardrobes but when the kids are out he likes to take me on the lounge floor, or couch, or on the dining table. Before sleep he wants me again, typically anally. At weekends, on top of all this, he wants my mouth. I don't know how he maintains this sort of stamina in his mid-forties. He shows no sign of slowing down and my only respite comes when he is working away and when he is fucking someone else - although even then when an affair first starts it can have the effect of increasing his libido.

Don't get me wrong: I love to fuck as much as the next girl - probably a good deal more, actually - but once a day would be enough for me, unless it's a special occasion. And he's a great guy, my husband: he's sexy, he's fun, he makes me laugh, he's awesome in bed - and he's extremely easy on the eye. I know he doesn't go actively looking for women, but they find him super attractive and, faced with a woman with a strong will, he is quite unable to resist. You might think this would bother me, but you'd be wrong. I love him, I really do, but his demands wear me out and once he's settled into a bit on the side I can look forward to a well-earned break.

We met at university, where I must admit I had a not-unjustified reputation as a party girl and something of a slut. I was up for most things and Graham was the first guy I'd met who was as kinky as I. We married in our twenties and now have twin eighteen-year-old children, a nice suburban house and a comfortable existence. My husband is a senior engineer. I am a housewife.

It's a Sunday afternoon in October. I have just returned from a spa break with a group of girlfriends, including my closest friend and widowed neighbour, Vanessa. Vanessa drove and I thank her with a hug and a kiss on her doorstep.

{{ A cold Friday morning in February. I am holding Vanessa as she sobs. She is only in her early thirties and is quite alone. Her husband, a lorry driver, stopped to help a stranded woman on the motorway shoulder and a HGV ploughed into them both, killing them instantly. It is tragic, but that's not precisely what she is crying about now. She is crying about feeling helpless and unloved. She is not a practical woman and jobs around the house that her husband would have completed in minutes pile up. She has also just confided that she hasn't fucked a real live man since he died six months ago and she is desperate for sex. She is hooked on porn and gets through mountains of batteries wanking herself off with various sex toys, but it just isn't the same and she's heard too many horror stories about dating agencies and online hook-ups.

I have a sudden brainwave that could work well for us both. I continue rocking her in my arms while her cathartic sobs subside, stroking her dark hair. She's slim and pretty and sex-starved. I'm confident he'll find her irresistible. All my friends know about Graham's continual sexual demands on me: I don't need to explain that. There's only one thing I need to ask her: "Would you like to fuck my husband?"

I've told Vanessa to watch for Graham's car pulling up on the drive and give us an hour. When he gets home, I set about warming him up. He doesn't usually want a blow job on a weekday evening - probably because he fucks his secretary and doesn't want me to taste her on him - but tonight he lets me bury my face between his legs to suck his shaved balls and he groans at the silky sensation of my wet mouth. I bathe his shaft in my saliva and it stiffens and swells. He is holding my head in place and thrusting into my throat when the oven timer goes off downstairs. We ignore it, but Beth shouts up the stairs: "Mum! The pie's ready!" I've waited dinner on him so he can't unilaterally decide his need to cum outweighs the family's need to eat. He growls in frustration and I soothe, "We'll finish after dinner."

We don't, because Vanessa calls the house phone right on time. I answer, listen for a few minutes and say, "I'm sure Graham will be happy to help." I return to the table, where my husband is finishing his fruit salad and say, "I'm so sorry, darling, but Vanessa can't make her shower work. I said you'd go over and take a look at it."

He stares at me. "Right now?"

"Yes, right now. You don't understand, Graham. She's had a terrible day. She was over here crying earlier and this could be the last straw."

He's the best. He doesn't make any more protest, but pushes back his chair and is straight out of the door.

He's gone for hours. Vanessa clearly has a lot of time to make up for and is draining him dry. I retire to bed at half past eleven and drift peacefully off to sleep. I don't know what time Graham joins me as - bliss! - he doesn't wake me. It's not until - a virtually unprecedented - eight o'clock on Saturday morning that I'm woken by a tray of breakfast in the hands of a delectably clean, just-showered husband.

He doesn't ask me to finish what I started the evening before until late morning, just before he and Jack leave for the football. I happily swallow the mouthful of semen he deposits on my tongue, and once the boys have gone I tell Beth I'm popping over to Vanessa's to see how she's doing after yesterday's meltdown.

My friend is looking radiant and I tell her so. Her eyes and hair are shining and her cheeks are pink. She greets me in relief and kisses me gratefully, thanking me repeatedly. She confesses that she was worried I would regret sharing my husband with her. "Not at all," I reassure her. "Any time. I had a brilliant night's sleep - the best since he was last working away."

She pours me a cup of coffee and tells me everything.

"I opened the door to him wearing just my bathrobe [her shower genuinely wasn't working: the subterfuge was that she had only just realised as she was about to step into it] and he was fantastic. He went straight upstairs and fixed it in a few minutes. I knew it was a simple job: just one that was beyond me. Repairing the shower wasn't what took the time."

"So, how did you initiate sex?" I ask, curiously.

She laughs. "I offered him a coffee and a biscuit and asked him if he'd like to wash his hands at the kitchen sink before sitting down. While his back was turned I just dropped the bathrobe. Oh, Claire - his face! His eyes bulged like Marty Feldman's. I don't know exactly what I said: the words just all tumbled out, about how I couldn't thank him enough, about how lonely I was - how frustrated - and how attractive I found him. I went over and put my arms around his neck and kissed him very tentatively on the lips. That was literally all it took. His hands slid down to my arse and he lifted me up. I wrapped my legs around his waist and he carried me to the kitchen table. Then he was dropping his trousers and I saw how thick his cock is. Fuck, I was worried for a second. It's been so long for me I wasn't sure I could take it. But I was massively turned on and practically dripping.... sorry, Claire, I can't quite believe I'm saying this -" She breaks off, blushing.

"Go on," I say, encouragingly. "Was it good?"

"Amazing!" she breathes, suppressing her embarrassment. "He rubbed my clit with his thumb and sucked my boobs, and then he thrust it into my pussy just like that. I was so hot for him it slipped straight in. I hooked my ankles behind him again and he just hammered into me, hard and fast and deep. It was .... oh .... *animal*. It was only a minute or so and I was cumming and screaming in his ear. He pulled out, turned me over and thrust back into me again. The table began to jerk across the room, propelled by the force of his thrusts. I know he was holding back for me, though, because as soon as I cried out that I was cumming again he came too. Oh, and there was so much semen. When he withdrew from me it ran down my legs in rivulets. I could smell that bleachy smell -"

She's been completely caught up in the memory but now she stops again, looking stricken. "Claire, are you sure you want to hear this?"

I laugh. "Yes, I want to hear. What happened next?"

Her eyes search my face uncertainly, but she must see I'm sincere as she continues. "He pulled me to my feet and pressed his softening cock into my back, cupping my tits in his hands and kissing the back of my neck. And he said, 'That was fucking great, Vanessa," and I laughed and agreed that it really was. He took my hand and led me upstairs to my bedroom. Once we were in bed I had the chance to properly explore his body. You are so lucky, Claire. He is gorgeous. I think I kissed and licked and sucked every inch of him - his throat and chest and nipples and belly, and then the soft, loose skin of his scrotum. (Do you shave his balls or does he do it himself?) Anyway, obviously I then sucked on his lovely cock. He tasted of me, of course, and traces of his spunk. Mmmmmm. His dick hardened again in my mouth and I sucked and licked and swallowed his cockhead. I've always liked to suck dick and it didn't take as long as I thought it would, given that he'd just cum, to get him to shoot another load down my throat. We fell asleep for a while then, but I was woken by his tonguing my arsehole and then he sodomised me."

She is blushing again and embarrassed enough to hold back on the details.

"In what position?" I ask.

"Face to face," she admits. "I've never done it like that before, but I got such a kick out of looking into his eyes while his cock was filling my arse that I came almost immediately. I've never had an orgasm from anal before, either. It felt so very dirty." A shudder of lust shakes her body.

On an impulse, she kisses me on the mouth. She hasn't done this before and, on top of her story, I am turned on. My nipples tingle and my clit throbs. I kiss her back, hungrily.

"Thank you, Claire," she whispers. "Thank you, thank you, thank you." }}

I'm not sure I can explain it, but sharing my husband with Vanessa really cemented our friendship. We had been superficially friendly before, but now we share something really intimate I feel able to tell her anything at all. I haven't had such a close female friend since primary school and it's fantastic.

I had felt completely relaxed and chilled out after our weekend away, but coming through my own front door is like being doused with a bucket of cold water, such is the icy atmosphere I walk into. Both my husband and son are monosyllabic, so I ask Beth to come and keep me company whilst I unpack, intending to winkle the truth out of her.

"What on earth is up with the boys?" I ask.

"Jack's in a foul mood," my daughter explains. "And he's mainly been taking it out on Dad."

"But *why* is Jack in a mood?" I persist.

Beth hesitates, fidgeting. "He's been seeing Tabi," she says. I roll my eyes. In some ways it's very convenient that my family think I am so oblivious to what is going on under my nose, but it also irritates me. I really would have to be stupid not to know that Jack fucks Tabi when she stays here on Friday nights. (I also know that when Jack goes to sleep, Tabi fucks my husband.)

"Yes, yes," I say, waving my hand impatiently.

"Well," says Beth, "he found out she'd been seeing someone else."

I sigh, heavily. "When did this all come out?"

"Friday night," Beth replies, sadly. "Uncle Dan was round and -"

I groan, cutting her off. I can hazard a pretty good guess at what must have happened. Inwardly, I curse my husband and his need to push boundaries. He and Daniel share everything.

{{ A Christmas party at Graham's offices in Docklands. I am wearing a short, tight red dress and fishnet hold ups. When I first dressed I had underwear but my husband fucked me before we left the house and wouldn't return it to me. (Fortunately, my breasts do not droop much when unsupported. I didn't breastfeed the twins for long: Graham suckled from my milk-filled breasts for much longer than the babies did.)

I am having a lot of fun. I'm dancing, sweating, drinking to excess. Couples are forming on the makeshift dance floor and bodily fluids are being exchanged in the surrounding offices: I'm turned on by the erotic atmosphere and my nipples are hard as bullets, clearly visible through the fine knit of my dress. My husband brings his boss over and tells me to dance with him. We move together, pressing close, grinding. Daniel's hands are all over me, creeping up my thighs to my stocking tops towards my dripping cunt. I try to back away before he gets higher and realises I have no knickers on but he holds me close and whispers in my ear, "I told Graham I wanted to fuck you tonight. He said it's fine by him but I'd need to ask you. What do you say?"

Daniel isn't just my husband's boss: they are close friends, close enough that my kids call him "uncle". He has been to our home many times and flirts with me outrageously. His wife, Lydia, never attends work events and rarely comes round to ours. She is a deputy headteacher, rather matronly and careful of her dignity. They make an odd couple. If I'm honest I am powerfully attracted to Dan and tonight I am drunk enough to act on the attraction.

"I say yes, please," I reply and he takes my hand and leads me to the corner office with panoramic views of the city. He locks the door and now his tongue is exploring my mouth as his hands progress up beyond my stocking tops to my naked arse-cheeks. I feel hot breath on the back of my neck and then my husband is unzipping my dress for the second time in two hours, pushing it off my shoulders as he presses his hard-on into the small of my back. I am sandwiched between them and will remain so for some time.

Daniel takes a step back to look at my body, now entirely exposed to him, and gives a low whistle. "Jesus, Claire," he exclaims. "No wonder your husband can't keep his hands off you." I gasp when he takes my breasts in his hands. I am incredibly turned on, my own pussy juices oozing down my inner thighs, and my nipples are swollen, deep red and sensitive. He lowers his mouth to them and when his tongue flicks over them I nearly cum there and then. His lips close around my left areola and he sucks so hard I shriek. When he releases it I am ready.

I drop to my knees and unbutton his flies. He hastily kicks off his shoes and pulls off his shirt, and by the time my tongue is circling the ridge of his corona and flicking over the head of his penis to taste the precum he is producing he is - in classic British style - naked but for his socks. I suck his length into my mouth, running my tongue over all the ropey veins and around the base and weigh his testicles in my hand. Daniel gathers my hair in a ponytail and his cock twitches in my mouth as he looks down at me, my lips pressing against his pubic stubble as the tip of his dick invades my throat. My impatient husband kneels behind me, lifting my hips, and feeds his own stiff dick into my sopping pussy.

Daniel pulls out and kneels himself before feeding his penis back into my hungry mouth. I am skewered by two cocks, spitroasted on Daniel's office floor. It is amazing. They fuck me in both ends in synchronicity. Dan's eyes are closed, his head thrown back and I brace myself for a flood of semen in my mouth, but he unexpectedly pulls out. "I want some of that pussy," he tells Graham, crudely. I am no longer a person to him, I realise - just a collection of wet holes - and it's intoxicating. I fall forward onto my elbows so my husband's throbbing penis slips easily from my cunt and shuffle around inelegantly on my knees so Dan can take his place.

Daniel pounds my pussy, groaning at the feel of my tight, wet passage gripping his dick, as Graham rubs his cock over my face, smearing it with my pussy juice. I try to catch it in my mouth, eventually managing to suck him in. He clearly has other ideas, though, as he's telling Daniel to withdraw and lie on his back and directing me to straddle him. I sink onto Dan's dick and Graham, triumphant, pulls my buttocks apart and spits into my arsehole. I am not ready for this and ride Daniel faster so it's hard for my husband to access my anus, but he won't be denied.

"Hold still," he growls, digging his fingers into the flesh of my hips so I have little option but to stop moving. I tense, but then force myself to relax, knowing I'm only making it harder on myself.

"Are you going to fuck her arse?" Daniel asks in awe. In answer, Graham begins to force his thick meat into my poor little arsehole, tighter than ever with Dan's dick filling my pussy. I whimper a little and Dan pulls my face down to his and thrusts his tongue between my lips. The kiss is delicious and distracts me enough from the tearing of my tissue that I am able to push back on Graham's cock so it pops through my sphincter and into my rectum. I am stuffed. He asks Dan, over my back, "Tight enough fit for you, mate?"

Dan stops kissing me and says, "Incredible." They begin to double-fuck me. Dan's right. Once my holes have been stretched out a little it feels amazing. I can do nothing but focus on the sensations in my core. I can't move, kiss Daniel back or speak. I'm just a mass of hyper-stimulated nerve endings.

My head buzzes as they continue to move inside me. I feel an unmistakable gathering sensation in my pelvis, which spreads outwards from my centre. I squeeze my eyes shut as my abdomen churns and I cry, "Oh God, oh God, I'm cumming!" I buck between my husband and his boss as the wave breaks. As my climax ebbs, they continue to fuck me and I struggle fruitlessly to get away. My clit is too sensitive: the continued stimulation is unbearable. But they hold me firm, still thrusting into me roughly until I cum a second time, and then they unload in me, filling my insides with hot, sticky semen.

My limbs are like jelly and I cannot move so, once they are clothed again, they zip me into my dress and lift me to my feet. They support me between them and I stumble from the office. In the large open plan area a version of musical chairs is being played out. In the middle of a circle of seated executives, a dark haired young woman in a short, flippy skirt is dancing, topless. Her arms are above her head as her hips gyrate to the beat; her pretty tits bounce and jiggle as she moves around the circle. The men clap their hands to the rhythm and chant her name: "Rachel, Rachel, Rachel!" When the music stops, she straddles the occupant of the nearest chair. The lucky guy unbuckles his trousers and reaches for her breasts. I look back as we leave to see her impale herself on his cock as his colleagues cheer and wolf-whistle. I wonder if she will fuck all of them tonight.

Outside, Graham and Dan find a cab to take us to the hotel Graham and I booked for the night. I doze between them in the back seat. They somehow get me up to the room and on all fours on the bed. In the morning I will have only a hazy memory of Daniel's cock pushing between my lips as my husband penetrates my wet pussy again. I have no idea how many times they take me before Dan leaves. I am woken by Graham spreading my legs and mounting me, entering my sore, well-used cunt. }}