Suburban Legends and Voluptuous Women

I grew up in a large city and most of my adult life was spent living an urban lifestyle. To say, my only contact with suburbia was a few college and workplace friends that would invite me out for an occasional weekend party. It wasn't until my divorce that I decided to abandon anything that reminded me of the city or my ex wife. Something always seemed to be missing in our relationship, maybe because I was always fantasizing living the lives I envisioned in magazines, like the images of the bachelors in Penthouse and Playboy. I was particularly fascinated about the supposed suburban lifestyles and all the "swinging" that was supposed to be going on in those large single family dwellings with the two-car garages. With the crime, congestion, and only a few friends left in the city, I decided to move to a suburb fifty miles from what I knew.

With my migration from the city, the opportunity of a position in my field, social services came about. Here, working for an agency in the "burbs", I began to meet many women of my age, thirty something. For some reason many were divorced, as me. Maybe it was all the so-called liberal mentality that came with this particular profession. Sometimes, I felt it was the fact that people in the field became very critical of themselves and their partners, over-analyzing and dissecting every piece of a relationship. Anyway, it made the ratio of available women to men overwhelming and there weren't too many men in the case management field at that time anyway.

I was always gregarious, making friends easily. I seemed to be invited to many after office gatherings. Whatever, the reason, I enjoyed the attention and found myself enjoying the friendship of suburban women who seemed to be less uptight than their inner city counterparts. A previously married woman did not seem so obsessed with looking slim and trim and all the specified dating criteria. They would not hesitate to prepare a meal and invite you over. I preferred women with mature minds and bodies. Maybe, being divorced acted as a tension reliever, the women I hung out with had no issues speaking their minds or stating their desires.

I avoided any commitments, enjoying this new playground of openness, that is, until I met Myrna. She was recently divorced and lived in the suburbs, a few towns over from where we worked. Myna, in appearance was contrary to my fantasy woman of generous proportions. She was several years older than me, divorced (of course) and had a better than average body for most men. She knew this, because she worked at tanning, keeping fit and wearing some pretty clingy clothes. She even had some plastic work done to take natural sag out of her breasts. I think she added a cup size or two. She would never admit to anything, but it didn't matter. Because of the great sex, I forgave her lack of having the fantasy curves. Even though the sex was great, there came a point in time when I could not keep up with her cravings. I thought this would open a door to that fantasy of mine, the suburban sex party. Maybe, with her insatiability, she would let other men briefly into our relationship. In turn, I would reciprocate with her fantastic divorced, cock hungry, big legged, top-heavy friends. At least that is what I envisioned from my erotic literature! Oddly enough, Myrna seemed to gravitate to the city for activities, while I enjoyed the leisure living of the suburbs. This should have been a warning flag for me.

We did go to many suburban gatherings together, backyard barbeques and such, but nothing like I had fantasized or read in my magazines. Could all those stories be fabrications? I became disillusioned with the suburbs and my new existence, until one day, Myrna told me about a party at a friend's. She cautioned me that the host Barbara was a little strange and had made a stipulation "couples only". My ears perked up and my mind went into orbit. After a year of working and living in the suburbs, was my fantasy coming into play? I tried to maintain an air of calm in front of Myrna, stating that I had that Friday evening free and would pick her up. I tried to suppress my expectations, by rationalizing that if nothing extraordinary transpired, I would always have Myrna to go home with and nature would take its course. We could get pretty innovative, but the thought of being with other women often crushed my desire to be in a committed relationship.

The night of the party came, waiting seemed like an eternity. We drove to Barbara's abode, your typical suburban two-story, single family home, two-car garage, with a finished recreation room, I was told. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. However, Barbara fit my mind's ideal of the mature divorced suburban woman, five-seven, blonde, and a sporting a curvaceous one hundred and sixty or so pounds. My eyes were glued to her body as she introduced us to the other couples; some were married and some in some form of relationship. I sized up many women that I would have jumped and ravaged in a heartbeat. This was something that I always did at social gatherings, kind of like going into an auto showroom and admiring the flashier cars that are out of your price range. I'll stick with that analogy!

After many glasses of wine and a few plates full of various conversation snacks, I began to wonder why Myrna had called Barbara a strange being. We were an hour into my night and it was dullsville. Where was our host, anyway? As if she heard my thoughts, Barbara came from a door that I was told lead to the basement. She announced that we should bring our drinks and follow her. I thought if we are going to play charades or watch home movies, I'm out of here! We followed our voluptuous host down the stairs into a dimly lit area. It was your typical finished basement, but something was different. The furniture had apparently been pushed to the walls and two rows of chairs, back to back, individually wrapped with white fitted sheets formed a neat island in the center of the room. Someone had taken meticulous time to set this up. I counted and there were seventeen chairs. I counted heads and indeed, there were nine couples including Barbara and her boyfriend, who I earlier discovered was newly separated because Barbara was said to be "the other woman" and the precipitating factor of the breakup.

It struck me with the force of a Mack truck! This reportedly "strange" dynamic host, a room full of sex goddesses, a recreation area designed for...my mind went to overload. Could it be? I looked at Myrna to see if my thoughts were so loud they had somehow leaked from my head and she could hear them. She would not look in my direction and appeared to show little emotion as my brain overheated and my Johnson tried to escape my Jeans. Barbara began describing the game, a version of musical chairs. However, she stated with an exception that she labeled, her "house rules". Since someone had to operate the music, she had the option of picking any chair to sit on, whenever she pleased, whether the music played or not. Any other person ending up without a chair or "lap" to sit in. Oh, and did I forget mention, each chair was to be occupied by the lucky men in the room, each wearing a blindfold. Whichever woman was left standing, she and her partner each had to remove an article of clothing.

My mind raced and again, I glanced in Myrna's direction, trying to read her expressions. No hint there, but with all that inventive sex, we had regularly; I figured she would be a freak for this. I began to visually take garments off each woman in the room. I studied each body as if I were taking an exam. I wanted to remember who belonged to what curvaceous figure as they presumably sat in my lap and introduced themselves to Johnson, who was just as excited at the prospect of the game as I. I took my seat and adorned my blindfold.

It seemed like forever, before the music started, a slow sultry sax solo, reminiscent of that orgasmic stripping music. I felt material brush past my knees and an occasional foot grazed my toes. The various shampoos and perfumes heightened my anticipation. It also seemed like forever before the music ceased and someone came crashing down into my lap. Old Johnson managed to slip between two gorgeous thighs, avoiding being crushed by warm flesh. I surmised it was Cathy, Laura, or Becky, because each wore a type of light sundress. Johnson was very happy and I think a tear came to his eye. The music started once again, that low melodic wine of that sexy instrument. After about thirty seconds, the music stopped and a voluptuous figure slid into my lap and wriggled a little. It was Barb, who had taken her house privilege and jumped in, picking yours truly. As she got up to resume her music duties, I could feel the absence of panties. I knew they were there earlier, because I had given her a visual inspection, while sipping my wine. A few rounds later, I guess Myrna had been left standing, so I was instructed to remove an article of clothing. I assumed Myrna had removed her shoes or socks or something trivial, but I went straight for my Jeans. I had to give Johnson some room to stretch, you know! A few rounds went by and couples lost various articles of clothing. Most of the women chose panties and bras, and the guys seemed to have no complaints. During the turns, Myrna kept missing my position. Her body, I could not mistake. I cheated, like most of my comrades and tilted my blindfold a little to get a peak at all the action.

Around the sixth, seventh, or tenth round (who's counting) one of my more voluptuous divorcees, a woman of generous proportions eased herself down onto Johnson. I believe her name was Joy. By this time, Johnson was peering beyond my briefs for the world to see. When I say she eased herself down, she grasped my shaft and guided it into the moist warm recesses of her body. With Johnson fully enveloped, she took my left hand and placed it firmly upon one of her giant boobs. A nipple poked its way between my fingers. She made several gyrating motions with her hips and began to slide off my shaft, When Johnson was released from this mammoth cave, he jerked violently and spewed all over her ass and thighs. A giggle was heard and she playfully slapped Johnson, as she got up from my lap.

The music did not start again, as I had expected. I waited with uneasy anticipation. I caught Myna's image out the corner of my blindfold, which was now hanging off my nose. She grasped my hand firmly while removing my blindfold. She apologized to Barbara and said that we had to be someplace else, something about picking up a cousin from the airport or something. Barbara appeared to be just as confused as I. Myrna had a very stern look on her face as she guided me up the basement stairs. I was looking pretty silly with my Jeans in hand and Johnson waving goodbye to everyone. As we climbed the stairs, I could see droplets of cum upon the back of Myrna's thigh. I remember how the whiteness of the globs contrasted beautifully on her tanned leg.

On the ride home, we had no conversation about what happened, in fact, it was never discussed which was a great lost to my mind's hard drive, because, I wanted to play it over and over in my mind like a recording, at least until the part where she yanked me from the chair and forced Johnson to say goodbye to the best suburban fantasy ever. By the way, we were never invited to Barbara's house again, at least that I knew about. I tried, unsuccessfully many times to pry the reason for the abrupt exit from Myrna. It remains an erotic mystery.