Waiting for My Husband

I always get up early, no matter what day of the week it is. Just a naturally early riser, I guess. Ron, my husband, hates getting up early, so I was quite surprised, Saturday morning, to find him getting out of bed at the same time as me. He explained over breakfast.

"We're going to be working on that old bomb we brought home the other week, seeing if we can turn it into a decent stock-car. I've got Mike, Alf and Ian coming over about ten and I want to have everything ready for them. The wreckers open early and I figured I can get down there, fill the list of parts we need, and be back with everything before they get here."

Shortly after that Ron headed out. Before he left he told me that if the boys rolled up early then to just tell them to wait as he'd be back by ten. With that he took off in a cloud of smoke. Maybe he should put effort into fixing his own car.

Naturally enough Mike, Alf, and Ian, arrived right on nine, an hour early.

I lounged against the doorframe and smirked at them.

"You're early boys," I observed.

"Yeah, well we figured we'd get here early and run down to the wreckers with Ron. Give him a hand there as well."

"Nice of you, Mike, but you're a little late. He left half an hour ago. He'll be back by ten, he assured me."

"Well, fuck," grumbled Ian. "I said we should have come earlier. What do we do now?"

"You're welcome to come in and have some coffee before you decide," I told them, stepping back to let them pass.

"Might as well," said Mike. "If we go to the wreckers after him we'll either go to the wrong one or he'll have been and gone with us passing him on the way. Damned if I'm going to play car tag."

"You could always call him and ask where he is," I suggested.

Mike promptly whipped out his phone and called. Then we all turned and looked at the phone happily ringing on the bench.

"Well, fuck," grumbled Ian. A man of few words, and most of them uncouth, but a nice guy for all that.

The three of them stooged around, slurping on their coffee and talking. Mike finally pushed his mug away and turned and looked at me where I was leaning back on the kitchen counter. He gave a sort of shrug and got to his feet and ambled over to me.

"Something I've always wondered," he said in an amiable voice, "is whether your figure is as good as I think it is? I think it's time to find out."

To my utter consternation he blithely started undoing the buttons on my house-robe. I hadn't been intending to go anywhere and I only had on this house-robe, which had a bunch of big buttons down the front of it. The top one was already undone and Mike made small work of undoing the second one.

"Hey," I yelped, slapping at his hands and grabbing at the button to do it up again.

"Hey, yourself," he replied, slapping my hands away. "Just relax. This'll only take a moment."

Not if I had my way. I slapped at his hands again and promptly found out I wasn't going to get my way. He caught my hands and held them in one of his while he continued to work on my buttons.

"Alf, Ian, a hand here," I yelped.

"No need," Alf said. "Mike seems to be doing OK by himself."

"Fuck, yes," was Ian's contribution.

"Can't you stop him?" I demanded and Alf just grinned at me.

"Why would we. "We're curious as to how good your figure is, too."

"Fuck, yes," was Ian's happy comment.

It didn't take Mike long to finish the buttons and then 'help' me off with my robe. He tossed it to one side, and stood back, checking me out. Thank god I had on some decent undies. I'd have been really furious if I'd been wearing granny panties and a tatty bra.

There were several appreciative comments, not that I was looking for them. Still it was nice and flattering. There was something slightly erotic about standing in front of some men in my undies.

"Um, Mike," said Alf, "while Debbie is very nice the way she is, why don't you take of the rest of what she's wearing? I'm sure she won't mind."

"The hell I wouldn't," I snapped. "Try it and see what happens."

Note to self - never dare a man to do something when you're in your undies.

Mike reached for me and I scratched at his hand. You notice I said scratched at, not scratched. That's because he was faster than me and caught my hands - again. He held them effortlessly while he unclipped my bra, brushing the straps off my shoulders and letting it drop down my arms. (I'm pleased to point out that my breasts have virtually no sag. They stood high and firm, pink tips pointing. (Unfortunate, that last bit, as I'm that the three of them were noting that little fact.))

Mike released my hands, which were now entangled in my bra, and very swiftly dropped my panties, leaving me naked. Especially considering he finished untangling the bra and tossing it aside.

So there I was, standing naked in front of the guys, who were all looking at me with great interest.

Now for all that I was standing there naked after being forcibly stripped I wasn't really that upset. It wasn't that they would do anything else. I didn't really think that it would cross their minds to actually rape me. Still and all it was a highly erotic situation and I could feel the warm wetness gathering internally.

I was breathing heavily which had the side effect of bouncing my breasts in a very enticing manner. Poor Ian was almost bobbing his head to the pace of my breasts as though they were conducting the beat. It was time to put my foot down.

"I am not, definitely not, having sex with you," I stated very firmly.

This achieved several things. It put the thought of a little bit of friendly rape (as much as rape can be friendly) in their minds. It also absolved me from any responsibility as to what I suspected would now happen. I mean, I'd just said no, hadn't I? It also made me feel even hotter and hornier in anticipation.

If you're wondering why I would put the idea in their minds might I point out a few facts? I was naked in front of men I knew and they were practically drooling over my figure. I was finding it incredibly erotic, the forced stripping, the flattering comments, the eager eyes. Finally there was the simple fact that I would probably never be in a position where I'd be a helpless plaything for three strong men. They were all in trades of various types and were heavy on the muscle and light on the gut, although that would change over the years. Right now they were Prime and they were going to attack poor little me.

I didn't get a chance to run (if I'd been contemplating it) as Mike reached over and caught my arm again. I raised my slapping hand and he had hold of that as well, pulling me firmly against him as he pushed my arms behind my back, pushing my hands together and holding my wrists in one hand. With that he left room between our bodies, using his free hand to deliberately stroke me from my throat to my mons, letting Ian and Alf see what he was doing.

There was an approving, "Yes," from Alf followed by an equally approving, "Fuck yes," from Ian. Mike started pushing me towards the table, his hand still wandering over my body in a most lascivious manner. He was going to lean me forward over the table and I wasn't having that.

I relaxed a little and he did, too. I used the chance to get one hand free from his grasp and turned to face him, the table now behind me. He moved closer and sure enough, I was still leaning over the table, but backwards now, able to look down the length of my body to where he was busy unzipping. This was a matter of principle to me. If I was going to be raped I was damn well going to see it happen. Subsequent rapes were another matter, but for my first one I felt entitled to watch the assault take place.

I looked at what Mike produced and my first thought was, 'Holy shit. I think I might have bitten off more than I can chew.' My second thought pointed out it wasn't going to be a blow job and I'd be fine."

Mike wasn't a man for delays. He was lining up and pressing home, a home that was fortunately ready for him. Ian and Alf had shifted their chairs so that they had a decent view of the proceedings, and all four of us were watching Mike drive into me, accompanied by a loud squeal from me.

Still no delays where Mike was concerned. He started surging back and forth, setting a nice pace that I was able to match with ease. His hands came up and covered my breasts and all I could do was lean back against the table, staring at him as he had his way with my unwilling body. (OK. For an unwilling body I was probably responding very nicely, but a girl does what she has to, yes?)

Mike was slowly increasing the pace, hitting harder and trying to go deeper. Listen man, you can only go as deep as your cock is long, and I think he'd reached that point. He had me coming along nicely and I was in no hurry to speed him up. The others were, unfortunately.

"Don't take all day, Mike," said Alf. "Ron will be home sometime."

Mike simply winked at me and turned up the power, hitting me faster and harder. Instead of leading me towards a climax he was effectively grabbing me by the scruff of the neck and running me there. It was working too. I could feel the tensions building up inside me, and then he went a bit too far and I went off like a skyrocket, erupting in flames and a scream.

I wasn't given a chance to rest up. Alf was up and turning me around, bending me forward over the table. (Maybe he didn't want me comparing him visually with what Mike had offered.) Anyway, number two was coming up and I was all hot and bothered and ready for it. Good thing I was ready because he came charging in, apparently in a hell of a hurry.

I never thought that I might have to give a critique of a man's sexual prowess but I was tempted to give Alf a detailed one. He didn't seem to know what he was doing. He started off hot and heavy and I thought I was in for a quickie that might or might not bring me to a climax. It probably would because Mike had already got me worked up somewhat. Alf slowed down suddenly, as if realising that he was going to blow his load too soon, moving only just faster than dead still.

After that he switched back to hot and heavy, and after a while dropped back down to what I considered a reasonable pace. He kept doing that sort of thing and I didn't know if I was Arthur or Martha. (Well I did. With a cock up me I was definitely Martha.) I was tempted to tell him to knock it off and to go home and arrange for some lessons.

About the only constant in the whole deal was that my arousal just kept growing, reaching towards the heights that Mike had triggered. Oddly enough it was one of those long slow strokes that Alf gave that pressed my buttons, with me doing the scream and climax thing all over again. Alf said something rude and plied on some frantic efforts to ensure that he did get to shoot his load.

Ian already had his erection on display and if I used Mike's as a yardstick then Ian's easily measured up to it. He turned me to face the chair he'd been sitting on, telling me to brace my hands against the seat. I did that and he moved around behind me.

His cock touched lightly against my slit, right where he needed to go. His hands clamped onto my hips and he thrust forward, fully home with that one thrust, accompanied by my obligatory scream and a very earnest, "Fuck, yes," from Ian.

Unlike Mike and Alf he didn't bother grabbing my breasts, apparently content to let them swing freely below me. His hands remained clamped to my hips, helping to pull me firmly against him every time he thrust. His thrusts were an odd contrast. He was taking his time giving them but driving in hard and fast for each one. I was giving a bit of a squeak every time he hit home, the noise jolted out of me by the force of his groin banging up against me. I suspected that if he hadn't had his hands clamped to my hips I might have been bounced across the chair. (Interesting thought. Did he hold my hips so tightly because he had bumped a girlfriend across a bed or something?)

Ian was doing quite nicely for himself (and for me, I might add) but he was taking his own sweet time. I figured that he'd already being going longer than either Mike or Alf and he showed no sign off stopping. Maybe there was a reason for his strange style.

I was gasping, all hot and bothered and incredibly aroused, but not quite ready to climax. Then Mike spoke up.

"Um, Ron just drove in."

I'm like fuck me, I'm dead, but Ian just grunted.

"Go and help him unload," he said. "I'll finish up here and be with you."

Mike and Alf laughed and headed out the door while my mind was boggling. Ian had to have the biggest set of brass balls around. It turned out that he also had the ability to change his style. He started banging away hot and heavy, a hand coming around me to clamp over my mouth.

Then he was climaxing and I was climaxing and my scream was muffled by his hand.

Then he was gone heading for the door and the stock car. Stopping at the door he turned and looked me over, his gaze making me even more conscious than ever that I was naked.

"Better tidy yourself up," he told me, and then he was gone.

I went and tidied myself up.

It had been an interesting day. It had certainly been rape because I'd definitely said no. After all, a loving wife such as myself would never cheat on her beloved. She would also take care not to upset him by telling him things he didn't really need to know. Let him enjoy his peace of mind. I'm considerate that way.