Woring Wife

Lyn and I lived parallel lives for seventeen years, the same school, same class and same church, etc. After high school I went interstate to college and it wasn't until we were in our mid twenties that we met again; a blind date arranged by mutual friends.

One would describe Lyn as pretty rather than a great beauty; she ditched her heavy spectacles for a much more elegant gold framed style and coloured her hair auburn, from its natural, nondescript brown, while her previously tall, skinny figure had filled out more than a a little, a fact not hidden by the long loose frock she wore. We spent the whole evening catching up on the intervening years and I found that I was attracted to her, despite her shortcomings in the dress department and her ingrained conservatism, seeing some potential if she was to dress more liberally.

Our friends, Barry and Delys Coops, obviously thought so too and spoke to her about it, she revealed to me later. The next time we met was a cocktail party which Bazza had invited me to and she wore a little black number like most women there. However it revealed a lovely slim figure with round hips, nicely padded bottom and a gorgeous small bosom. Her black nylon-sheathed legs were rounder and more shapely than I'd remembered and her hips had a delicious sway as she walked away to the ladies room.

Although we'd both been persuaded to sign the temperance pledge at sunday school, a matter which caused a degree of good humoured levity when we told the other two, we were both drinking. I'd begun at university, but Lyn had only taken her first tipple on her leaving our home town in recent times to come east. When we arrived back at their house she was tipsy and there was no peck on the cheek to farewell me, but taking my arm, led me inside for a coffee before the other couple retired for the night.

She snuggled up to me on the sofa and we kissed for the first time ever, her lips like an inexperienced young girl's, soft and unsure. When I poked my tongue her lips parted for me and I explored her mouth, her breath then becoming a little ragged as she jerked at the thrill of this intimacy, but doing nothing to dissuade me. She was trembling hotly with what I hoped was excitement, as was I, thrilling as I felt her breasts through the fabric of her cocktail frock, gently tweaking a nipple as I realized that her boobs were unfettered by a brassiere. I reached behind to unzipper her dress and she relaxed her tight embrace momentarily as I pulled the bodice away from her chest, giving me a brief glimpse of two lovely white titties which were bigger than I'd thought, before pulling her body hard against mine once more.

"Love your boobs," I murmured tremulously as I forced my hand between us to fondle them again.

"I bet you say that to all the girls," she smiled shyly.

"Nope, only the ones with nice boobs," I responded and heard her giggle for the first time.

She twisted her upper body back from me for a better look at her breasts, watching and jerking while I pinched and twiddled her pallid, protuberant nipples atop large, shiny, taut areolae.

"Nice?" I asked.

"Mmmmmmmm," she agreed so I lowered my face to suck and nibble at each of them in turn, hearing our hearts pounding as one.

"Stevie?"

"Hmm?"

"Take your shirt off?"

I complied and felt her warm silkiness against my chest.

"I just wanted to feel your bare skin against me. It's gorgeous," she told me.

I put my hand on her thigh and slid it upwards to find naked flesh above the lace tops of her stayups. She'd put her hand on mine to prevent further progress and, as I felt her grip slowly relax, moved it up again to press it to the gussett of her panties. With luck I'd scored an almost direct hit on her clitoris, but she once more clamped my hand to prevent further manual exploration of her secret places. When she relaxed once again I pressed and found the swollen pleasure pearl before she jerked violently at the thrill and closed her thighs tightly.

"I'm sorry," she breathed tearfully. "This is all new to me. I've never been this far before. It's nice, but scary to me. Can you be a little bit patient with me?"

"You're a virgin still?" I asked, trying not to sound surprised.

Mind you, at that stage I'd only had sex on a few occasions, mainly with a tutor who'd taken upon herself to rid me of my unwanted virtue, with the connivance of classmates who knew my secret. In my first year of tertiary studies I got myself a skinful of gargle and, silly me, had blabbed about life's unfairness leaving me virginal while my peers fucked themselves to a standstill every day. With that out of the way I was persuaded to join a competition to seduce all virgins; the only thing to qualify them as chaste being their physical unattractiveness and I lost my fifty dollar entry fee by targetting super-fuglies who weren't intact. For the rest of my time at university they were both solicituously friendly and kept asking me out.

Lyn nodded sadly, hugging me again, then opening her pale thighs to allow me manual access to her warm, wet crotch. I slipped a finger under the elastic leg band of her lacy knickers and found well-trimmed circle of brown pubic fur above a hairless vulva with thick, frilly inner labia and a bigger clitoris than I'd ever felt before.

"Oh! Ooh! Ooooh!" she gasped as I pressed and circled the little nub then ran my finger up and down her vulvar cleft before delving inside her with a slippery finger.

It was very tight and proved her chastity, although I was quite sure she hadn't lied about it. She lifted her bottom as I pulled her panties off, then stopped me.

"Come in here, it's more private," she whispered, leading me by the hand to her bedroom and a femininely appointed, queen-sized bed with teddies and other soft toys. "Take your clothes off. I want to see you nude Stevie."

As I got my gear off she wiggled out of her dress and stood there waiting in just her stockings.

"Oh Dear God!" she gasped when my erect penis, there's only about sixteen centimetres of it, sprang out of my descending jocks to quiver horizontally under her gaze.

She silently put her fingertip on a place above her deeply slit navel and frowned as she realized the potential depth of penetration.

"You'll have to show me what to do Stevie. I haven't the faintest idea."

"Just relax darling," I told her as reassuringly as I could manage. "Do we need to take precautions?"

She shook her head. "I'm on the pill. That's how I got these," she told me on cupping her breasts and shaking them. Suddenly I found her to be desirable and vulnerable and just so sweet; I didn't want to fuck it up by any foolish move on my part. I'd heard one guy I knew expounding upon defloration, he had a reputation as a bit of a lad, so I'd resolved to use his stated method. I pushed her down on her back and tenderly pushed her thighs apart as she lay holding her breath. Applying my mouth to her cologne scented pussy I poked my tongue inside her vagina until it hurt a little before using my lips to pull at, my teeth to tease and my tongue to press and circle her thrilled clit as she writhed and rolled around in pleasure-induced delerium. Her hips rotated and thrust with increasing urgency until crying out as her shapely figure became rigid and convulsions of pleasure racked her whole body in orgasm.

She clawed at my shoulders as I crawled forward over her supine body and prodded at her pussy, now unctuous with love juices, pushing my knob into her tight slit. "Oooooh!" she moaned, but without distress.

I pushed again firmly and she cried louder as my knob stretched her hymen, then penetrated her further when it ruptured with the pressure and I worked my cock right inside her with a series of short thrusts and withdrawals.

"You're right inside me?" she asked in a little voice.

I nodded and she smiled.

"It wasn't so bad. I've heard stories about fainting in agony and similar stuff. Del reckoned she didn't try it again for five years after her first time because it hurt so much," she told me.

She experimentally rotated her hips and, feeling no real pain, encouraged me to try some pelvic movement. Surprisingly, her vagina had loosened quite considerably in the absence anticipatory tension and I slid my prick in and out of her with increasing ease until we had worked ourselves into a wild, belly pounding gallop towards sexual relief.

"Oooh gawd Stevie," she cried abandonedly, "I'm going to come again."

With that I shoved my bursting tool deep within her belly to gush my warm load into her womb, triggering her climax as we lay locked tightly together in the paralytic embrace of orgasmic bliss, our sweat glistening forms then convulsing repeatedly.

"You okay Lyn?" I asked when her panting breath eventually evened again.

"Ooh yes," she said huskily. "You know, I think I could get used to doing that, after a while."

I hugged her and the next thing I knew was Del waking me to give me a cup of tea.

"Sounded like a Rugby match in here last night," she smiled easily at Lyn who blushed deeply.

"Well you know whom I learned it from," she retorted, then, to me. "These two really give voice to their pleasures. Really loudly."

"You need to show your partner how much you're enjoying yourself," Delys chuckled. "The louder the better, eh Steven?"

I just nodded in appreciation of her openness about our sex, knowing that we could whoop it up during sex in their house. They knew about Lyn's sexual status I assumed, so I supposed that their attitude was quite comforting to her, shagging unrestrainedly in their bedroom next door to demonstrate that it didn't have to be an entirely secretive activity.

"We got so horny when you lost your cherry that we had to get it on again too," she told us happily. "As good as a porno video to us."

Lyn and I remained in bed until lunchtime, exploring the delights of sex, particularly of the oral variety. She got to be an excellent fellatrix and grew to enjoy the mutual intimacy of soixante-neuf with me, though I really prefer each activity separately because it's easier to concentrate on one thing at a time.

*

I spent the weekend there and then thereafter until they suggested that I ditch my place and move in with Lyn. I resisted this idea until it became a matter of an urgent choice, the others already seeing Lyn and I as lifelong partners, between a marriage and a goodbye. As much as I liked her I couldn't really say I loved her enough to make a lifetime committment. She was more than just nice to have around, funny too, under Baz and Del's influence, so I found it hard to imagine my life without her. And of course there was the sex which she'd come to seriously love and vocalize in competition with Del.

Eventually I decided to take the line of least resistance to move in with them before drifting into marriage. I supposed that I could as easily drift out of it again, but didn't think that far ahead as I was using my dick for a job that required brainpower.

However fate intervened then and my firm sent me to work in the Port Vila office for four months where I met Stephanie Lane, a divorcee, who appeared to fancy me. The first fortnight was bloody marvelous and I learned a great deal about lovemaking as well as good old-fashioned shagging. I fell deeply in lust with Stef, but after a month she went to move in with an older guy, leaving me with a reminder that she'd told me at the beginning it was just a casual affair; just for fun. There were other girls, all younger than I, but by week eleven I was constantly thinking about Lyn. I'd developed an awful empty ache in the gut that I'd felt after Stef gave me the big flick. With her departure it lasted ten days, until I met Jill, but it was now all of three weeks and I really wanted Lyn. I prayed I hadn't burnt my boats by just dropping out of her life without a word, but didn't dare send a letter in case I got the answer I didn't want to hear.

Even worse followed as I was required to spend another four weeks in Vila. I thought of resigning, but understood that the only thing harder to handle than arriving home without a girlfriend was arriving home without either a girlfriend or a job.

Anyway, when I did get home there were no messages so I rang Lyn.

"Would it be too late to ask you to marry me?" I enquired with nothing to lose then.

"Never too late," she told me. "Let's not be too precipitous though. I'm quite alone over this weekend, so why don't you come on around for a bit of rumpy-pumpy and we'll talk about it. I need to make sure that you're sure."

I couldn't believe my ears, but on arrival at her front door with as many roses as I could carry found the most gorgeous vision of womanhood all made up and completely nude beneath a sheer, black pegnoir. The others were away for the long-weekend so we made up for lost time with gusto, Lyn shedding a lot of her natural reserve as we fucked lustily all over the house.

*

We were married a month later with Baz and Delys as our witnesses. They'd convinced Lyn that they had all pressured me a bit too hard about moving in and a break was a certain way for me to find what I really wanted; a future with her, or elsewhere. It all sounded a little like falcon training to me, but I was glad to be back.

Our families got their noses out of joint over not being included, but we soothed them by swearing we'd have a ceremony when we next visited our home town.

* A couple of years later we'd moved into our own place with the obligatory morgage, lawnmowing and gardening, etc. We'd also taken to visiting a nude beach in the bush reserve at the bottom of our street with Bazza and Delys and had developed suntans like them. Lyn looked so absolutely fabulous with a full, golden tan and, with Del, had had her crotch, except for a triangle of fine, silky, pubescent regrowth hair on her pubic mound, after being both electronically and chemically depilated. She enjoys wearing stockings and lingerie for me, but only in the home; still going to work in conservative suits or frocks with mid-calf hemlines.

One night she seemed distracted over something, distant and off her food, before I got her to open up about her problem.

"There's these two guys, both married, who are competing to have sex with all twenty-seven females in our office during this calendar year. They keep at the girls until they give in, I mean they don't make threats over losing your job or anything like that, just the pressure to join their game. Today I found Ross and Olivia Cranston banging furiously in the stationery store and last week saw Penny Devlin, very flushed and looking rather pleased with herself after being inside with Ted. Penny's only my own age, but Olivia's well over forty. Even that mousey Monica Leppitz has been ticked off on both lists after spreading her legs for them, so I'm dreading a proposition any day now."

The concept got me horny, visualizing all those attractive married ladies putting out in the cause of a wager and even my own lovely bride joining in to enjoy a knee-trembler in the stationery storeroom. Olivia was stupendous; tall and statuesque, with a bust that you could suffocate in and legs which would crush you in her excitement. Even though Lyn had revealed that her bosom was mainly saline inserts, they jiggled so naturally and I'd enjoy checking them out for defects. Likewise, Penny was tall and elegant, cool and blonde while Monica was shy, but less reserved than Lyn.

"Just refuse them," I suggested lamely, reaching over to feel her snatch.

She felt my super-stiff cock. "That aroused you!" she accused.

I nodded and she let me fuck her, but without real enthusiasm on her part.

The following day I got her a mini-cassette recorder and fixed the remote microphone in her favourite brooch, showing her how to operate it to record any propositions she received.

"I'm sorry I was irritable Steve," she told me. "I know one can't control what one finds erotic. Del told me that Barry gets horny from a fantasy of seeing her fucked by another man. Does it excite you too, another man doing me I mean?"

I nodded. "It does, I'm afraid."

She recorded both Ross and Ted trying to get her to have it off with them and it made me seriously hard when she played each new proposition to me in bed at night. Even Lyn was eventually aroused by the concept of a stranger banging her for no more reason than the fairly tenuous motive of a rogering competition, but it was something she never thought she'd actually do.

There was a rule in the guys' competition which allowed for substitution so, as it became obvious that Lyn was a lost cause, had her transferred to another branch and quickly seduced her replacement to take the money. In the meantime Lyn had found that her new situation was one of being out of the frying pan and into the fire. The new manager at her branch had come from an overseas posting and was used to an unusual degree of pampering by his female staff. A roster of all twenty-one women had been drawn up to see to small matters like mail, coffee maker, coffee for visitors, substituting for the receptioniste during absences and so on. These were in addition to the requirements of their duty statement on hiring and became necessary due to downsizing by the company.

There was also another non-compulsory duty, not mentioned by anyone, that Lyn discovered on one of her rostered days as she knocked and stepped into Mr Carruther's office to find Mrs Alison Dewar reclining across his desk as he thrust his truly comment-worthy tool in and out of the blonde, furry confluence of her long, shapely, nyloned legs. Her pink sweater was up under her armpit and her bra unfastened to bare her big lolling bust which jerked and quivered with each lusty shove of his hips.

"Thanks Lyn," he gritted when she dropped the mail on his desk and turned to flee. "Drop the deadlock button on the door?"

She'd described the scene with much less outrage than she'd done with her earlier experiences and I wondered then whether she might not have softened her attitude to casual nooky, but she said not.

"So what's in it for the girls besides a regular bit of adulterous nooky?" I enquired.

She blushed and lowered her eyes."They get their mortgage payment made," she told me simply.

"Oh," I said.

"Oh? That's virtually prostitution, in fact it's quite literally whoring! They're selling their bodies!"

"But they're not doing it for free, like sluts. He wants something; they want something. Everyone gets what they want," I said. "It finalises their mortgage more quickly for the sake of a quickie once a what?"

"A week, I think," she frowned. "Don't you see anything wrong with that? How would you feel if I went whoring for our mortgage?"

"I'm not sure," I said honestly, but the bulge in the front of my pajamas indicated how I felt about it in general terms and she took full advantage of my condition, popping it inside her warm, juicy love pouch. "I think I'd be very aroused if you did it."

*

"Oh that sort of thing goes on all the time in every workplace," Del said airily when we told her about the events in Lyn's office.

"Yes, so I gather," said Lyn impatiently. "But would you do it?"

"No, but I can understand why people do," said Del.

Barry stuck his head forward to stare at her in a manner signifying utter disbelief.

"Oh thanks a lot Barry," she said bitterly. "Tell everyone why don't you."

"It's not everyone just Stevie and Lyn. I do reckon we should at least be honest with them. We'd expect that," he told her.

She blushed deeply as we waited with bated breath.

"You heard about Barry losing his university research position and having to go out to do field work again? Well during that six months' hiatus we were really hurt financially. One of our top executives is a well-known rogerer of female staff, so I went out to attract his eye at the time his assistant was in the process of moving out, prepared to put out with him for the same money that I'd discovered that Carol had been getting for being his weekly, sexual playmate. I wasn't going to tell Barry at all, but I felt so guilty after my first time I just had to."