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DD75 split gut laughing When


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Seventy Five

by Adam Gunn

Seventy Five! I think 75 is a milestone, don't you? Particularly when
my final objective is only 100. I'm three quarters of the way there.

On the way to what, you ask? My 100th guy. I designed a stickpin just
for the occasion. It's the symbols of the two sexes, interlocked and made
out of platinum for, of course, 75. The center of it is a ruby for my red hair. I had two of them made. When I showed them to my husband Don he
asked what I was planning on doing with them.

I told him my plans were to wear very sexy panties, and pin the first
one right over my crotch, so that the guy would find it and I could explain
the significance of that particular screw. Afterwards, I'd give him the
other one, as a memento. Don thought I had it pretty well thought out.

For nearly a year, I've been looking for the perfect guy. He'd be tall,
handsome, exciting, and suave. Those in are addition to my normal
qualities of safe, clean, responsible, persistent and confidential. A man like this, of course, doesn't happen by every day. I've even let a couple
of chances pass, waiting for just the right stud. (No big deal, those guys will be available, I think, for numbers 76 and 77.)

But things don't always go as planned, do they? Here's my quandary - Is
the last guy my 75th? And, if so, what do I do with that jewelry? Let me
tell you the whole story.


Doreen was a virgin. There is absolutely no doubt about that one. She
was a virgin when we met as roommates that first day of college, and if she
wasn't a virgin on her wedding day, it's only because she and Alan knew
they'd be together, monogamously, for the rest of their lives.

Doreen was, and still is, my best friend. She knew all about me,
particularly about how I wasn't a virgin. She found out that the hard way.

About six weeks after our freshman year started, I took a guy back to
our dorm room. Of course it was illegal, and if I got caught, I'd get
shipped back to Podunk. But I knew that if they sent back every girl who
did it, the Senior Class would be all men. Except, of course, for Doreen.

So there I am, lying on my bunk with this guy. It's the middle of the
afternoon, and I know we'll be okay because Doreen's got a math class.
We've just finished a great screw, and he's laying on his side while I'm on
my back, and I've got my hand down playing with his dick, hoping it'll come
to life again. The door opens, and in walks Doreen. She looks at him, she
looks at his thing, she looks at me, she looks at his thing again, gives a
little shriek, and backs out of the room, closing the door behind her.
Other than Alan, that may be the only real live cock she's ever seen.

Later on, we catch up with each other. She's a little peeved, not
because she couldn't come into the room, but because she's worried I'm
going to get pregnant. I explain the birds and bees and condoms and
spermicides to her, and let her know that it can't happen. (It never did,
either!) We make a pact - she won't judge me for what I am, and I won't try
to force her into my lifestyle. I did promise her that I'd never take
another guy into our dorm room again, and I kept that promise. Luckily, we
only spent three semesters in there, and then we rented an apartment with
separate bedrooms. After that, she just banged on the wall when we got too

Doreen was with me the night when I found out what I wanted to be when I
grew up. A bunch of us were sitting around and a guy I was in the process
of trying to gently dump figured out he wasn't welcome anymore, and called
me a whore.

Vanessa looked at him, and in her best slave accent said, "Sheeeittt,
that girl ain't no hoe. You have to have at least a hundred guys 'foe you
a hoe. An' from what I seen, Tom-boy, you ain't worth no hundred,

We all laughed, but I took his crack personally. To get even with him,
I went to another party where I knew his best friend was, pretended I was
drunk, and got him to take me to their room. When we got there, I let him
make out with me, and let him strip me down to my bra. I got his thing
out, and gave him a handjob. My timing was perfect. Just as we were
wiping it off Tom's sheets (I made sure we were on his bed!) Tom walks in
and 'catches' us. Screaming and shouting ensue, I tell them they're both
lousy lays, and I walk back to the party, laughing my ass off.

But the next day I start to feel a little guilty, and I get to thinking
about what Tom and Vanessa said. Was I a whore? I was just starting to
understand how much I like the varieties and vagaries of different men, and
I decided that a objective of one-hundred men in my life was not only
realistic, but would be one heck of a goal. I made up my mind right then
and there that I would bag my limit.

That day, I started keeping a list of the different men I'd been with.
It wasn't much of a chore then - it was just springtime in our freshman
year, and Tom was only my fifth conquest. Since then, I've been very
meticulous, and kept a detailed list of every guy I've been with, along
with dates, ratings and degrees of kinkiness. Here's the summary:

High School 2

college 11 (I don't count Tom's roommate, I never fucked him.)

After college 7

My first husband, Ray 1

During my first marriage 8

During my divorce 35 (helped by a couple of very good orgies! )

See Footnote at end of story for details

My second husband, Don 1

During my second marriage 9

That's a total of 74 guys I've been with. I only count guys that come
in one of my three holes, although I've never had a guy in the back door
that didn't come in the front, too. I do count a couple of guys who only
got a blowjob; that's almost as personal as being in my cunt, and both of
them would have been invited to head on down below if they'd wanted to.
Now the question is, does my latest guy count as my 75th, or am I still


Oh, what's this about all the screwing during my marriages? Well,
during the first one, I was young, and didn't have it figured out how
jealous a man could be. Or maybe I just didn't care. It doesn't matter,
either way it's my fault.

Doreen tried to warn me. She told me I wasn't ready for a wedding, even
though she'd been married over a year, and was pregnant with her first
daughter. She told me I wasn't stable enough, that I'd hurt Ray, and then,
when I did go through with it, she told me to my face on my wedding day not
to screw around.

Of course I didn't listen to her! In the two years Ray stuck around, I
had round heels, as my record shows. And I wasn't very smart about it.
When Ray found out, it was pretty much over. And then Doreen held my
hands, and let me cry on her shoulder, and didn't even tell me she told me

Doreen was aware of my prodigious record between my marriages, and
again, just tried to make sure I didn't get hurt. Which I didn't. At all.
Then, when I found Don, and just stopped fooling around because I was happy
with what I'd found, Doreen was ecstatic, and again stood as my bridesmaid.
This time, she didn't give me a lecture, but she did tell me she didn't
have to!

A few years later, Don began an affair, with my support and blessing. A
few months later, I reciprocated with his assistance. Since then, we've
had an open relationship. We both have affairs, and tell each other about
them. For the last three years, we've even had another couple, Dave and
Judy, who are sort of like our mutual fuck buddies. It's nice - I get to
scratch my itch two or three times a year, and nobody gets hurt.

Both of us are very circumspect. We watch out who we have fun with, and
try to make sure that no one gets hurt. So far, I don't think anyone has.
And no one, I think, other than the people we have fun with, knows about
our secret lives.

No one, that is, except Doreen.

After my first conquest broke up (he was a guy in our hometown who I was
on a committee with,) I was looking around for someone else to do it with.
Luckily, our college reunion was coming around. I go to it every year, as
do about 60 or 70 others, including Doreen. Rich was a semi-regular,
hitting it every few years.

I met Rich in college when I was dating one of his best friends during
our junior year. I'd learned my lesson from Tom, and didn't take Rich to
bed, even though both of us liked each other a lot. I figured I'd let the
summer take its course, and then make a play for him in our senior year.
But while he was doing an internship, Rich found himself a girl (who he
eventually married,) and we never did get together.

Rich was still married, but when we got together, we always kidded each
other and had a lot of fun. Once, during the years when I was being
faithful to Don, we started to make out at the get-together, but I stopped
it pretty quickly. It was clear, however, that if I ever had the
inclination, Rich was willing to help me out.

So I called Rich up where he worked, and it didn't take him long to
figure out why I was so interested in if he was going to go that year. We
made plans to reach the campus a day before the official festivities began.
(Yes, just to satisfy your prurient interests, Don didn't accompany me that
year because he knew I was going to be otherwise occupied. Although I'm
not absolutely positive, Rich's wife may have allowed him the same

Late in the afternoon, I checked into the campus hotel, where all the
alumni stay. The clerk said, "Oh, yes, Suite 209." When I took my luggage
up there, a dozen roses awaited me, as well as a bottle of champagne on
ice. The bedclothes were drawn down, and a beautifully wrapped package
awaited me on the pillows. I opened it and found a midnight blue bra and
panties set. Also enclosed were a dozen condoms and a note that read,
"Slip these on, call me in room 211, and I'll slip one of these on. Love,
Rich." Of course I realized that he was right next door, and so I took some
time primping myself and getting myself into the getup. I banged around a
bit, making sure that Rich knew I was in the room, and when I was ready,
first I silently opened the interlocking door and then unwrapped a rubber.
I called him, and when he answered, I told him to come on into my room. He
came in, dressed in a matching pair of midnight blue french-cut briefs, and
I let him chase me into the corner of the room. He grabbed for me, and I
reached down, unleashed his tool, slid the condom onto it (he was as ready
as I was,) and let him skewer me with my back to the wall. He had good
control of himself and we bumped and grinded for three minutes or so.
Three minutes is a long time in that position. Then we slid onto the couch
and I climbed on top of him to finish both him and myself off. It was a
great first fuck, spontaneous, quick and totally satisfying. When it's
like that the first time, you can't wait for the second to find out if
it'll still be as good.

We just sat there, sort of cuddling and sort of making out, and he
stripped me of the lingerie. When we were both naked, Rich opened up the
champagne and poured the wine directly out of the bottle into my mouth.
When I began laughing and letting the beverage slip out of my mouth, Rich
licked it up, and then began pouring it all over me, licking it up where it
spilled. He had great tongue action, and after he got done with my
nipples, he poured it lower and lower. Finally, he got to the good part,
and I tilted myself up so that my pussy could hold quite a bit of the
champagne without spilling it. He licked three or four helpings out, and
then started on me proper. Rich knew just where my prominent button was,
and what to do with it, and, like the good mistress I am, I came properly
for him.

Then, of course, it was my turn. I got a glass, filled it, dunked his
limp penis into it and licked it off. It wasn't long before it wouldn't go
into the thin crystal (Rich turned out to be thicker than average,) and so
I started sucking in earnest. Before he could come, he got me to sit back
on the couch, fitted another rubber on, knelt between my legs and entered
me again. It was even better than the first time, because Rich could
really control his movements in that position. He pumped in, out and
around inside of me, varying the rhythm and tempo until I was in full
spend. Then he turned me over and did me from the rear, making me even more
frantic. Finally, I couldn't stand it any longer, stripped the rubber off
of him, and went down on him. I've been told by many guys, including Don,
that I give the best blowjobs in town. In fact, in many towns. When Rich
started moaning and pumping into my mouth, I knew I had another satisfied

The rest of the night is sort of a blur, because of the champagne and
all the sex. I seem to remember room service, and then finally we slept.

We sort of woke up mutually, sometime around eight. Rich went into the
shower, and I just laid there, luxuriating in the feeling of being well
fucked, and knew I wanted some more. I put on a green negligee I'd
brought, hoping to get Rich ready again, and the phone rang, and it was
Doreen. She was going to get in later that afternoon, and just wanted to
check with me about a few details. We were chatting about our plans, when
Rich came out of the bathroom, toweling off his hair, and yelled, "Lisa,
you are one great lay!" When he looked at me and saw that I was on the
phone, he ducked back into the bathroom.

Doreen stuttered a couple of times, finished the conversation quickly,
and then told me she'd see me later. The idea that I'd been caught sort of
excited me, and I was able to get Rich all sweaty again.

It didn't take long for Doreen to get me aside that evening. After a
few false starts, she asked, point-blank, if I was having an affair. I
admitted it, and then, before she could start in on me, I told her about my
arrangement with Don. She plainly didn't believe it, and was clearly
pissed with me for the rest of the reunion. Rich wasn't, though. He met
me in my room every evening and to this day, we get together every once in

Doreen stayed upset with me until Don took her aside and talked to her,
and let her know it was okay. Once she heard it from him, she turned into
her old self. Later, she told me she doesn't understand the life I choose
to live, but like always, she refuses to judge me. She just wants to make
sure that I don't get hurt. Don's included in that, too. I don't tell her
about every conquest I've made, like I used to in college, but she's been
aware of a few of them. She's a pal. She'd do anything for me, and I know
I'll do anything for her.


Alan and Don get along pretty good, too. Just before their last son
graduated from high school, Alan bought a sailboat on a lake a couple of
hours north of us, and asked Don if he'd help 'break it in.' They stayed up
there the whole weekend going around in circles. I knew Don was as hooked
as Alan was when he suggested we buy a boat, too. I got him to climb off
that one by appealing to logic; if we were off on a boat in the middle of
the water, how could we be golfing? Don realized the futility of trying to
have too many playthings, and for the next couple of years the two of them
took day trips up to the lake, and sometimes Doreen and I had to go with

Before last summer rolled around, Alan started pushing a sailing trip
around the Virgin Islands. Don thought it was a good idea, too, and Doreen
seemed to be supportive. I wasn't sure about it. A week out on the water
with nothing more to do than read and drink doesn't appeal to me that much;
I'm more of a big city type. But I was outvoted, so one Friday night I'm
aboard a flight to St. Thomas. The guys planned the whole thing - they
got the charter, and 'laid in' all kinds of supplies, mostly liquor, so
that all we had to do was sail from place to place and anchor in pristine
bays off deserted islands. I'd done some research of my own, and
discovered that the wardrobe de riguer for such a voyage is topless. And
that's only if you get cold. But I was going with Doreen and Alan, so I
packed as many one-piece suits as bikinis, and brought along a bunch of

The first couple of days went along pretty much as expected. Sail in
the wild tropical winds from about ten o'clock in the morning until about
three, then find someplace to anchor without another boat in sight. In the
morning and then in the evening we'd all jump in for swim and play time.
Maybe some volleyball or keep away or something like that. A little
roughhousing went on, bodies crashing into bodies, but I never felt
uncomfortable with it, and Doreen didn't seem to mind the incidental

On the third day there was almost no breeze at all, and the sea was as
flat as a tabletop. While the guys were trying to figure out how to get
the boat to go somewhere, anywhere, Doreen and I thought about what we
would make for dinner, and the four of us came to the same conclusion -
head for port! We turned the motor on and set course for the nearest
village. When we finally got there, it was late afternoon, and we got off
the boat in the metropolis, glad to be back in 'civilization.' There were
only two establishments in the place that catered to tourists, and we hit
both of them. First we had a long dinner of fresh vegetables and fish, and
then we went over to the nightclub. It was long after dark when we
arrived, and the place was, if not jumping, at least lively. A reggae band
was playing loudly, and perhaps fifty people, mostly tourists but some
natives, were imbibing and dancing. We gladly joined them in both of their
pursuits, and until well after two in the morning we got wild and crazy.

Mostly, Alan danced with Doreen and Don pranced with me, but
occasionally we would switch off. This wasn't odd; Alan and I often danced
with each other at weddings or parties at our Club. After awhile, Doreen
decided she wanted to get some air, but Alan wanted to have another
Planter's Punch. I sent Don out to look after our friend; even if we were
in the tropics, it was still a strange area, and women should be escorted.
After they left, Alan and I started dancing again, and then they shifted to
a couple of slow dances. Alan grabbed me, and we drifted around the dance
floor. Soon, I was aware that he was pressing himself to me much closer
than he'd ever done before, and he stole a little kiss. I let him,
thinking it was just the romance of the setting, but when I felt his hand
wandering toward my ass, I sat down! Half an hour later, we were back on
board, bedded down on our proper side of the curtain.

The next day was much better. The breeze kicked up, we sailed along,
and everyone was in much better spirits. As usual, we anchored in the late
afternoon, and took a swim. When we frolicked, even though Alan and I made
contact as usual, it didn't seem like any big deal.

After we climbed back on the boat, Doreen and I began to sun. The guys folded sails or something, and Doreen turned to me and said, "You know, to
hell with this. There they are, with just their loose trunks on, and here
we are, with these tight things on." She was wearing a bikini with some
underwiring in the bra. "I'm going to do something about this!" And she
whipped her top off! A few moments later, Don looked over and nearly
twisted his neck. He didn't know whether to stare at her in amazement, or
to ignore the whole thing. Alan caught his act, glanced at her, and said,
"Hey, you're finally going to get comfortable, huh?"

Now I'm not a nudist, but I've never seen the use of clothes just for
the sake of covering up something that doesn't really need it. (Fashion?
But that's another subject, dear.) So I went below, took the one-piece off,
and put just bottoms on. When I went back on deck, I could tell that Alan
was trying not to gawk, but the longer we let it go on, the less
uncomfortable the situation became. The night ended up with both of us
girls eating dinner and cleaning up without changing our costume. Later,
Don and I went to bed, and heard the sounds of the other couple making love
up on the deck, so we did it too.

I always woke earlier than the others. When I went topside it was a
gorgeous dawn, and I decided to stay with the new uniform of the day. I
jumped into the ocean for a little swim, and after a few strokes, I saw
Alan on the deck. I motioned for him to come on in, and he splashed in and
floundered over to me. We continued a few hundred yards, until we were
both worn out. I'm a better swimmer than he is, but he can stay afloat
much easier than I can; I often hung onto his shoulders as a flotation
device and that morning I didn't see any reason to change the habit. But
as we rested in the deep water, I began to feel his arm brush up against my
chest more than was absolutely necessary. I extricated myself, and swam
towards the beach, into shallower water. When I could barely stand up, I
just looked at the beauty of the island. A few minutes later, I felt
Alan's lips at the back of my neck, and his hand cupped my bosom. I turned
around in surprise, and he grabbed me and pressed our groins together while
he attempted to kiss me. I avoided as much contact as I could, and said,
"Alan, you know I like you, but we just can't do this. Do you understand?"

"But, Lisa, you're just so . . ."

"No, Alan. We can't hurt Doreen or Don."

"But . . ."

"I'm going back to the boat, Alan. I'm trusting you not to do anything
like this again." I took off, outswimming him, and by the time he got back
to the boat I had a bra and cover-up on, and Don was rustling around,
thanks to a few nudges from me. Within a few hours, everything seemed back
to normal, but for the rest of the trip I didn't go topless, and I was very
careful about touching him when we played. He seemed to be okay with that,
and didn't try anything else. As far as I was concerned, it was forgotten.
No, I didn't tell Don about it.


A few weeks later, the guys were spending a day at the lake, and Doreen
and I were in her backyard, just chatting. We went on for awhile, and then
she said, "Lisa, can I talk to you? About sex?"

This wasn't a big deal. The first time she was pregnant, she realized
that she wasn't able to satisfy Alan completely, and she wanted to know how
to give him a good blowjob. This was before the Internet, (not that Doreen
would ever enter a chat room!) and she needed a good reference. None
better than me, she figured, and I was happy to give her a few pointers.
In the ensuing years, when they got bored or other minor problems would
crop up, I'd help her out with some sound advice.

This time, however, it was a big deal.

"Lisa, I think Alan's going to have an affair."

"Oh, come on, Doreen, he loves you. He's not going to do anything like

"But he's been fantasizing about it in bed with me. It's on his mind.
He's never had anyone but me, and now that the kids are out of the house,
he's got too much time to himself."

"So he's going through male menopause. Big deal. He'll get over it."

We went around that block for a long time. Although I wasn't convinced
he would ever get serious, (or know what to do to get it if he did!),
Doreen was sure that sooner or later, she was going to have to deal with
the 'other woman.'

"Okay, let's assume for the moment that you're right. So he goes out
and has a quick affair. So you'll be hurt for a little while, but honey,
before long he'll come back, wagging his tail behind him. You've got
absolutely nothing to worry about, even in the remote possibility that he
really does go through with it."

"I wish I was so sure about it. But with all the widows and divorced
women out there, I'm afraid he'll like her more than he likes me, and I'll
lose him."

We talked about that one for awhile. This, apparently, was her big
problem, that after he went away he'd never come back. Having seen it
happen all too often before, (one guy chased me for two years,) I could
only be so supportive. Finally, we got around to looking for solutions. I
sure didn't have one, but Doreen did.

"Lisa, what I need to do is get him a different woman who would service
him once or twice, and then send him home." This one floored me.

"What are you going to do, get him a hooker for his birthday?"

"No, that wouldn't work. At least, I don't think it would. What I need
is a girl who he's already interested in, but is safe. You know Alan's
been quite specific in bed; I know what he wants. I think he'd like me to
be that, but I just can't."

"So what's he looking for?"

"Well, a girl that's really exciting. A woman who's been with a bunch
of guys, who knows what a man wants." I wasn't sure I liked the way this
was going. "His ideal girl has beautiful tits, and is very exciting. Sort
of like you."

"Wait a minute. You're not suggesting . . ."

"Lisa, he's never told me in so many words that you're his ideal woman.
But for weeks after we came back from the cruise, he couldn't stop thinking
about the day we went topless. And how you danced with him at the
nightclub. You really affected him that week."

"Doreen, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to . . ."

"No, it's okay, it's just that you're so sexy you can't turn it off.
Don't worry about it, even if he tried to kiss you. Or something. I know
you didn't encourage him." I wondered if Alan had been talking out of
school. "Besides, you've got other advantages."

"Such as?"

"Such as the fact that you're his best friends wife. And that you have
an open relationship?"

"He doesn't know that, does he?"

"Hell, Lisa, when I found out what you were doing, I had to talk about
it with someone! If it's any consolation, he defended you, telling me it
was none of my business."

I went to get us another drink, and get my head in order. When I got
back, I tried to summarize the situation.

"All right. What I hear is that you think that Alan, sooner or later,
is going to go fool around on you. You want to set him up with an easy
girl, but someone who's not a threat. That's me. In other words, you want
me to go fuck your husband until he's satisfied, and then you think he'll
get over it." I used the F-word on purpose; Doreen doesn't like obscenity,
and I wanted to shock her if I could.

"Pretty much, that's it. Don't say no, not yet. Will you think about
it? Please?"

We talked about it some more. I shared with her what I thought were the
weak points of her plan. How if we went through with this, it might just
whet his appetite. How he might wind up obsessing on me. How, in the long
run, it might ruin our relationship. For each one, she came back, quickly,
with a retort. He'd never been a man to fool around; this was just a phase
we had to get him through. (All of a sudden, it had become my problem, as
well as hers.) How I was very good at controlling guys; surely Alan would
be a walk in the park. And, of course, how could such a sweet thing ever
come between us, when we already had so much water over the dam.

I could speak to the President of the United States and tell him to go
fly a kite. But I couldn't refuse my best friend. "I'll speak to Don
about it," I said. "If he doesn't kill me, we'll see about it."


I waited three days until the right moment, which came, of course, in
bed after sex. When I first broke the subject, Don just about split a gut.
"Yeah, he's been asking me about what the women I had before you were like.
He hasn't asked me about Jill, or Fran, or Judy though. Are you sure
Doreen gave him the whole story?"

"She couldn't. I've never told her about your girls. Maybe she thinks
I'm the only one who screws around."

"Well, do you want to do this? I mean, this could be heap big medicine,
you know."

We talked about it for an hour or so, and he brought up all the same
objections I had. But the bottom line for him was that I had to help my
friend. When I asked him how it might affect his relationship with Alan,
he replied that it wouldn't matter to him, and that he didn't think Alan
was the type of guy to rub somebody's nose in it. If worse came to worse,
he'd just have to talk to him about it. If I decided to go ahead, he'd be
cool with it, like he always was.

So, the ball was still firmly in my court.


When I got together with Doreen a couple of days later, I got weak. I
can't refuse that girl anything. But we did get some ground rules down:

- I'd only go to bed with Alan two or, at the very most, three times.
Then it would be over. Over! Do you hear me, never again!

- I wanted to do it in their house, but not in their bed. I wanted him
to think about her while he was doing it to me. I figured that if we did
it anywhere else, it would be easier for him to ignore her.

- She had to trust me to make sure that he got what he needed, without
giving him more than that. She did. I was the expert, she said.

I set it up for a Wednesday night a couple of weeks after that.
Following our plan, Doreen told Alan she was going to a town council
meeting, and after that she was going to have coffee with some of her girl friends. She had to tell him she'd be back about ten o'clock. And come
back promptly at 9:05.

I prepared differently for this "date" than I had for any other in
history. First, I hadn't shaved my legs since Sunday, so I was good and
stubbly. Then, when I got home from work, I went for a jog, and didn't
shower. I did, however, give myself a douche; some men feel that a musty
vagina is the world's best aphrodisiac, and if Alan was one of those, I
didn't need that distraction. I put my sports bra back on and donned a
pair of white panties that I'd bought at K-Mart just for this occasion.
Blue jeans and a flannel shirt finished off the outfit. I didn't bother to
put make-up on, and my hair wasn't properly groomed, either.

I stopped over about 8:00, an hour after she left. It wasn't unusual
for me to just pop in. "Hi," I said, walking casually through the sliding
door into their downstairs den. The four of us were quite casual in our
comings and goings.

"Oh, hello. What are you doing here?"

"Looking for Doreen. Is she upstairs?"

"No, she went down to one of those damn meetings." He wasn't
appreciative of her newfound interest in politics. "She's not going to be
back for a couple of hours."

"Oh, that's too bad. I wanted to show her some pictures I found of the
trip to the Virgin Islands." I was pretty sure that Alan hadn't seen most
of the pictures, and was counting on him to have forgotten the rest. "Do
you want to take a look at them?"

He started flipping through the thick sheave of glossies. The first
fifteen or twenty were of the boat or islands. Then he got to a few of us
playing around in the water. I went behind him, looked over his shoulder
and made comments about how much fun the trip had been. A few flips later
and he was looking at the ten or so pictures where Doreen and I were
topless. In most of them, his wife had thrown an arm over her breasts or
done something else to hide them. I, on the other hand, was displaying my
tits for all the world to see. When he slowed down to get a good look at
these, I gently (accidentally) brushed my breasts along his arm. "We had a
really great time down there, didn't we?"

"Yeah, we sure did," he grunted.

"Alan, remember the morning we went swimming by ourselves? Well, I'm
sorry I wasn't a little nicer to you then. It's just that, well, Doreen
was right there, and if she had seen us, uh, it just wouldn't have looked
right. You see that, don't you?"

"Umm, hmm." He was enjoying the pressure of my hand on his neck. "But,
if we ever get the chance, just once or twice mind you, I really think
you're a sweet guy. . ." By this time, I had my face right beside his. He
turned his face to me, and I kissed him. I made sure it was just a nice
kiss, not too hard, and just a little tongue. He responded in kind, and we
sort of hung around a little, letting our lips meet. Finally, I broke it

"Whew! You're a great kisser," I fibbed. "Can I get a drink?"

While he made it for me, I sat down on the couch. "Sit down here," I
urged. Of course, when he did, I sidled up beside him and started rubbing
him. For awhile he was tentative and then he put his hand on my arm. I
didn't have a lot of time, so I placed it on my breast. He got the idea,
and started pawing me, and kissing me hard. I knew I had him where I

"Alan, you're not going to tell Doreen, are you?"

"No, of course not."

"What time do you think she'll be home?"

"She said about 10:00." The guy was writing a textbook in how not to
have an affair. I knew Doreen would be home a full hour earlier than that,
and his inattentiveness would just make it easier for us to scare him out
of trying again!

"Let's go upstairs." I led him up to the second floor, and then into
their daughters room. Fathers are compulsive about their little girls, and
this was perfect for the purpose. There was an alarm clock, and I checked
the time against my wristwatch - it was six minutes slow.

I sat down on the bed, and he followed me. Before too long, I was on my
back, still fully dressed and Alan was on top of me. He unbuttoned my
blouse, flipped the bra up and started sucking on my nipples. I unzipped
his pants and grabbed a hold of his dick. He was ready to go, and just in
time. We only had 35 minutes before Doreen would return. When he went to
take my blouse and bra off, he managed to get me totally tied up, and if he
hadn't been so intent, I would have split a gut laughing. When he finally
had me topless, I took off his shirt and pants and then I rubbed my tits all over him. He was getting harder yet, and then I finally got him out of
his boxers. He was ready to go.

I laid back and let him take off my jeans and panties. He took a good
look at my pussy, and started fingering it, ineffectively. While he was
having fun, I licked my hand and started applying friction to his tool.

He started to kneel between my legs, and I stopped him. "We need a
condom. Do you have any up here?"

"Cripes, no," he moaned.

"That's okay. I've got one in my purse. Lay here and wait while I go
get it."

I'd planned this. I wanted him to lie there, in his daughter's bedroom,
and think about the dastardly act he was about to commit. I put my jeans
and top on, and went downstairs to retrieve the protection. I wasn't in a
hurry; I wanted the situation to sink into his brain. When I returned, he
was still lying there, stiff as a two by four. I put the package on the
end table, right next to the family photograph, and then I slowly undressed
for him. We had seventeen minutes left. I took his tool in my mouth, and
could taste the pre-cum. I knew he was pretty excited, and that he
wouldn't last long, so I picked up the foil and handed it to him.

"Put this on." It took him a few moments to tear the package, and then,
from the way he handled it, I knew it had been years since he'd used one,
if he ever did. Finally, I had to reach over and help him, and I knew from
the way he was twitching that he wouldn't last long.

When the rubber was adjusted correctly, I laid down on the bed and
opened my legs. Alan knelt between them, and got on top of me. We kissed
and he tried to get it to enter me, but he kept missing the mark. I
reached between us, grabbed it, and placed it right at the entrance to my
vagina. At that precise moment, I felt Alan's body go rigid and the
tremors in my hand proved to me that he was in the midst of premature
ejaculation. I thought he might try to push into me and finish himself of,
but instead he let me stroke his tool while he came. I know that his head
was right at my lips, but I'm not sure just how far he entered my canal. I
let him stay on top of me, and stroked his tool until he was empty. He
rolled off of me and we laid there while he finished wheezing. We had
eleven minutes left - plenty of time. I took a tissue, removed the rubber
and placed it on the table, next to the picture, making sure it wouldn't
leak. Then we just laid there, next to each other and I told him it would
be better the next time.

"Listen," I said, with seven minutes left, "I think we'd better break
this up before Doreen gets home, don't you?"

"We've got plenty of time," he told me, and then he started to finger my
pussy a little bit. Just at that precise moment, we heard the garage door
begin to open. I registered, with delight, the look of shock on his face.
This was cutting it a bit close, but I figured it was just what we needed.
I just hoped Doreen would stay downstairs so that we wouldn't get 'caught.'

"Quick, get dressed. Go downstairs and just chit-chat. Try not to be
nervous." He did as he was ordered. I was a couple of steps behind him
when he had all his clothes on. "Go!" I commanded.

He almost tripped going down the stairs, and after he got all the way
down, I went into the bathroom and flushed the evidence down the toilet.
Before I went down the flight of steps, I looked at the clock and realized
my watch was six minutes slow, not fast.

Doreen greeted me and I just told her about the photos. One more time
we went through them, and Doreen studied them as if she'd never seen them
before. As we viewed the topless photographs, Doreen remarked, "That was
fun, wasn't it. Don't we both have nice tits, dear?" Alan was just taking
a drink, and choked on it. I hung around for a half-hour or so, and then I
made my excuses. Alan followed me out, and after he closed my car door for
me, I rolled the window down and told him that I was looking forward to the
next time.

When I got home, I greeted Don and then took a hot shower and shaved
myself. Don knew what I am, and he's even seen me screw other men, but
this made me feel dirty. When he came to bed, I feigned sleep.

When I picked up my voicemails at work in the middle of the next
morning, Doreen's ecstatic voice entreated me to call her. I closed the
door to my office and dialed her over my salad at lunchtime.

"What did you do to him last night? He was fantastic! He even asked me
to put on some sexy underwear, and then he got some oil out. What
happened? Didn't it work out?"

I decided not to tell her the whole story. "We started, but in the
middle, well, he just didn't feel like continuing." That was sort of a
truth, wasn't it? "Listen, before I continue the treatments, I think we
should let it settle for a few days. Let's try to figure out where he is,

The four of us were supposed to go out on the boat the following
weekend, and I wondered if I should call it off; I was still feeling if
not, well, guilty, then sort of soiled still, I guess. I didn't tell Don
what I'd done. For some reason, even though it might turn around and bite
us all in the ass, I was hoping it would all go away.

When we got to the pier, Doreen was in the hold, and Alan was working
topside. When he first glanced at me, I thought his face flushed a bit,
but he acted normally. 'Good,' I thought, 'at least he's not going to make
a fool out of himself, and me with him.' We cast off and floated out to the
middle of the lake. The guys did some sort of fast turning maneuver they
were working on for awhile and then we settled into a long sail downwind.
Don went up onto the bow to play with the sails or something, and Doreen
went up there to sun. For the first time since our 'affair' started, Alan
and I were alone.

Alan started the conversation. "Listen, we need to talk."


"Well, uh, I really enjoyed the other night, but I don't feel very good
about it."

"How so?"

"Well, I mean, we cheated on Don and Doreen. If they ever find out,
well, they'll never trust us again."

I decided not to disagree. "Well, if we keep it up, they're bound to
figure it out, sooner or later."

"Well, yeah. That's why I think we stop it now."

I was astounded. This was way too easy! "You mean, you don't want me

He tried to take it easy on me. "Oh, Lisa, I liked it, I like you, but
it's just not worth it. Can't you see that?"

I started to pout a little bit. I didn't want him to think I was
relieved or anything. Just then Don came back, and we had to stop talking.
For the next couple of hours, we sailed around. Finally, on our way back
into the slip, he got a chance to get me aside again. "Lisa, is it okay? I
mean, you won't be too upset, will you?"

"No, I guess not. I'll always remember it, though."

"So will I."

Weeks went by, and nothing. Finally, when Doreen and I went to a ballet
by ourselves, (trying to get those two to go to anything cultural is
suicide,) I broached the subject. "Well, anymore talk out of him about
another woman?"

"No, not a peep. Whatever you did to him cured his itch. What did you
do, anyway?"

"Nothing, just gave him a little touch of the medicine. And he found
out he didn't like the taste. And why should he, honey, when he's got a
banquet in you?"


And that's the story. I believe that Alan will never stray again, and
things will be just fine in mid-America.

But this leaves me in a quandary. Did Alan and I make love? Or should
I assume that he never got there, in which case I should save those
stickpins and continue to look for Mr. 75?

What do you think?

****** Foot Note on Lisa's Orgies *******

Okay, sickee, here's the details. Before my three orgies, I'd been in a
few threesomes. Either two girls or a guy, or the opposite.

(Yes, I've licked pussy. Yes, I've let girls lick mine. Yes, I made
her come. Yes, she made me come. No, I've never done it with just a girl;
it's always been with a guy around. No, I don't think that qualifies me as
a lesbian. Now can I get on with this footnote?)

The first time was at a girlfriend's apartment. There were seven guys (none of whom I'd ever known biblically before) and four girls. I knew
what I was getting myself into, and I was an enthusiastic participant. In
fact, I think I was the first one there to have my panties off. In the
course of the evening, six of the guys had it in me, and I gave the seventh
a blowjob while I was getting it from behind. It lasted for at least five
hours, and I was the last one to leave. I couldn't sit down for three
days, and I wanted to do it again.

The girlfriend set up another good time a few weeks later. This time
there were nine guys and five girls. Five of the guys hadn't been at the
previous party. I made sure all of them got to me. I went over to her
house for similar escapades five or six times more, but only one new guy
came to them.

I started dating one of the guys from the parties, and he invited me to
go deer hunting with him and three of his buddies that I'd never met
before. I had no illusions; my role was to be the concubine. There were
three bedrooms in the cottage, two with single beds, and one with a double
bed. I claimed the biggest one. The first evening got a little strange -
I don't think the guys knew where to begin. So I set up a
nickel-dime-quarter poker game, and told them the whoever won $10 could be
my first guy. While they were playing, I went in and put on a negligee.
Finally, one of the guys cleaned up a big pot and we went into my room
together. He shut the door and we started to go at it. It didn't take
long, I was ready and he sure was. I made a lot of noise so that the party
would be sure to think about what was happening. After 15 minutes or so, I
shoved him out the door, went into the bathroom and cleaned up, and then
put a bra and panties on. When I came out, I chose the next guy and we did
it all over again. I made sure my 'boyfriend' was last, and he slept with
me. The next night I told them I was tired of this one guy at a time thing
and put some music on. Two of the guys started dancing with me and I let
them strip me. Before you know it, I'm straddling one guy who's got it in
my pussy, another's trying to shove it up my ass, I'm giving one a blow job
and the last guy is getting a hand job just 'cause there's no place left
for him to put it. It was a good, old-fashioned gang bang and I loved it.

I never minded group sex as long as there was no S/M, and I felt like I
was in control. If a guy started to hurt me, I just picked up and moved
on; a scene like that can get crazy too easy, and you can get hurt.

Finally, I got tired of the group sex thing, and decided that romance
was more my style. So I just stopped going to my girlfriend's
bacchanalias. Satisfied?


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