The Best Fuck in October!
Another offering from The Naked Truth: My Bed Buddy Chronicles...enjoy!
For my best fuck in the Month of October, allow me to open up with the following scene: It is ten-thirty on a Saturday morning. I am lying on top of a lush bodied woman named Cathy, pumping her pussy. She has some great tan lines that highlight her plush hooters and her nipples are button hard, and I lick one of them. Her hands are playing over my back and ass. Another woman, named Marsha, is on her knees to my left and she has her ample titties d****d over my shoulders. She brushes and strokes them over my back, and then my ass and thighs. With one of her hands, she fondles my balls. I am watching all the action reflected in the mirrors on my right. Marsha kisses my shoulder and tells me, “Now Dean baby, don’t you cum yet. Remember you have two pussies to take care of today.”
Dear reader, I was indeed one lucky fucker that day.
A couple blog entries ago I wrote that for me, as far as getting pussy, it’s either feast or famine. August had been sparse and September had been full of sexual adventure. In that month, I had a couple good rounds with my married fuck buddy Helen, the one with the Hindenburg hooters. Also, Stella and I had a great time down on Galveston Island. She had been especially horny and we had a very naughty time of it over the course of two days.
And, there were the two sex providers I procured while on a little vacation in Destin Florida. See my “Best Fuck in September” for details.
But for the first two weeks of October, well, there was no pussy, no touch of titty, no lips on my shaft and no tongue on my balls. Nothing. Nada. So, when I was able to hook up with my bed buddy Stella, I tried my best to make up for lost time.
On Tuesday evening, as she had left one of the two dress shops she owns, ending her workday, Stella had called and invited me over. We usually fuck at my place, as Stella’s daughter had recently moved back in and now lives with her. But in this case I drove over, arriving around 6:30 in the evening. Stella and I got naked and fucked throughout the night and well into the following day—Wednesday was a day off for her.
At one point, late in the night, early in the morning, I had her bent over a chair in her bedroom—banging her from behind and Stella had laughed when I had slowed down in my fucking to regain control, “Damn Dean, are you going to fuck me until I pass out baby?”
To wit, I had replied, “Baby, I’m so worked up I’d probably keep on fucking you even if you passed out.”
So, it was this session with Stella that I thought I might tout as the best fuck for October. That is, until the following Saturday.
But before I relate my best fuck in October, indulge me as I describe one incident during my most recent fuck time with Stella. Over the course of the past several months that Stella and I have been getting together to romp and rut, a curious pattern has been established whenever I am staying at her place.
As I mentioned, Stella’s daughter Megan is living with her. Megan just went through a divorce and is working to get back on her feet—forgive the cliché. She is an attractive, smaller breasted, more slender version of her mother. She works part time in one of her mother’s shops and takes classes at the University of Houston. It has taken her a while to accept me and for me to warm to her.
Then, there is Cindy, Stella’s sister who is, in turn, a blonde version of Stella. Cindy is more slim and delicate of frame but pretty.
Now, this strange pattern began to emerge a couple months ago, on a Sunday morning, while I was humping away at Stella—doing her missionary style—there was a knock on the fucking bedroom door. Stella had yelled out, “Go away!” She had laughed and told me, “Keep going baby, keep pumping.” Then, she had called out, “Give us a few minutes, dammit!”
I had continued my fucking until I climaxed with a few growls and grunts. As soon as I rolled off Stella, in walks Megan! She wanted to borrow a scarf or some shit. Then, as I sit up and lean against the headboard, Stella gets up, naked, and helps her daughter find the scarf!
An hour or so later, I am standing up at the edge of the bed. I have Stella on her knees and elbows and I’m doing her from behind, loving that view, grabbing that ass, pumping that pussy. And, there is another fucking knock on the door!
Again, Stella had called out and I had hammered home another climax. Then, just as I climbed into bed and covered up, in walks Cindy! And, Megan! And, the two of them sit down on the bed.
Cindy, who lives with her husband a few blocks away, had brought some breakfast tacos and wanted to share! Incredible! Well, the four of us ate and then, Stella, naked, gets out of bed goes into the kitchen to get some beers. Talk about awkward. I feigned nonchalance, and we chatted, while keeping my lower body covered.
Stella climbed back into bed, handing me a beer and covered up to her waist. And we all had a little brunch. No one seemed to mind the fact that Stella and I had been fucking all night and morning and that we were naked beneath the covers.
After a while, Stella had reached under the blanket to find me somewhat hard and told her daughter and sister, “You two get out of here, sweeties. And don’t come back for an hour or so!”
Getting up, Stella had locked the door and I jacked to the sight of her, ready for some more of that pussy.
Well, some variation on this theme has run each time I spend the night and morning with Stella. I’m not sure what to make of this. And, I haven’t broached the subject with Stella. She seems perfectly fine with the periodic intrusions.
Now, to be honest, I would never fuck Megan. Well, guess one can never say “never”—but I would not want to mess up this fuck time I get have with her mother. Would I do Cindy? Only if such were suggested by Stella, but yes, I’d do her.
Further, I admit that I take a bit of perverse pleasure to being the only dick in that house. Even though I am only fucking Stella, her daughter and sister knows I’m getting it—over and over. They’ve joked about the whoops and yelps they can hear while we’re “doing it.”
A mutual joke between Megan and Cindy is that when Stella gets in a “pissy” mood, they say, “Time to call Dean. She needs evened out”
Well, on this Wednesday morning, while Stella was riding me and I was roaming my hands all over that body of hers, another fucking knock! It was Cindy. Stella had fallen forward onto me, and whispered, “Shit I need to change that damned lock on the front door. My sister is becoming a pest.”
I had called out this time, “Give us a few more minutes, Cindy.” Of course, it occurred to me that every time we tell Megan or Cindy to wait a few minutes, they know that Stella and I are either fucking, she is sucking me or I am licking her.
I had rolled Stella over and happily humped away at her, getting my pleasure. This time, Stella had gotten up to unlock the door. Cindy had come in with the carafe of coffee that Stella and I had brewed earlier and I remember thinking whether Cindy “had a life.” Cindy seemed to spend a lot time at her sister’s house. Cindy refilled our cups and set the carafe on a dresser. She went to Stella’s closet, asking about a blue blouse. Finding it, with her back to us, she took off her blouse, revealing a white bra and put on the blue blouse. Now, here is the intriguing aspect, Cindy didn’t button up that blouse until she grabbed her cup of coffee and climbed up to sit Indian style at the foot of the bed. I glanced at Stella and, God help me, my dick was getting hard.
Stella seemed to not even notice—she asked her sister if Cindy’s husband had calmed down, apparently there had been an argument. I, for my part, stared at Cindy’s titties. Not as big and bountiful as Stella’s but there was some nice, dick hardening cleavage.
But, alas, Cindy did eventually button them up, leaving an inch or so exposed of that deep ravine of tit flesh. Then, of all things, in comes Megan! And she was wearing a t-shirt—her sleep attire--and a pair of cotton panties. She poured a cup of coffee and climbed into bed next to her aunt Cindy!
The three of them gossiped about family, work, school, Megan’s ex and Cindy’s current husband. I just sat there, sipping coffee, rubbing over Stella’s ass beneath the covers, glancing at Megan’s bare legs and Cindy’s hint of tit.
Finally, Stella had reached beneath the comforter and felt my dick and balls, “You two need to find your own man, now get out of here, the both of you.”
Cindy had laughed and said, “Damn Stella, is your man ready to go again?”
Megan had said, crawling out of bed, “Aunt C. You should have heard them last night. Had to put on my fucking headphones! Sounded like there was some remodeling going on in here.”
I had fucked Stella with renewed vigor for the rest of the morning until early afternoon—occasionally picturing Cindy’s tits and Megan’s legs and cotton clad ass as I did so. Yes, we whooped and hollered and grunted and groaned, with abandon. Then, I had taken all three of them to lunch.
Well, on to the best fuck in the month of October.
Let me preface by saying that up until that final weekend of the month of October, it had been five years since I’ve had two women at the same time.
First, some background. Several years ago, and a couple months after I moved into an apartment, as Donna and I were gearing up for a divorce, on a Saturday afternoon one of my buddies, Mark, came over. He had with him a twelve pack of beer. We started drinking and watching a baseball game. At one point, he took a call, going out onto my balcony. At the time, Mark was married to a crazy, hormone challenged woman ten years his junior, and he was always shopping for new pussy.
When he came back, Mark flat out asked, “So Dean, you want to get fucked?” Mark taught at a local high school and had a fellow teacher named Marsha that he got together with and banged, from time to time, he had told me some stories. Mark explained that one of his fantasies was to be with two women at the same time. As it happened, one of Marsha’s fantasies was to be with two men. She had promised to recruit a female playmate to join her and Mark if he would do likewise by persuading a man to join them. Thus, the reason for Mark’s spur of the moment invitation for me to join them.
And, we went over to her house right away. Her husband was off on a fishing trip and her twenty-something, living at home son was off on a camping trip. Marsha turned out to be a delightful looking, healthy hootered woman—at the time in her early forties. A MILF.
I was in need of pussy in a real bad way. She had taken turns sucking our dicks, back and forth, back and forth. Mark did her doggie style while she sucked my cock, and then Mark and I reversed positions. I, of course, got in some titty fucking. All in all, that woman got fucked for a couple hours by two very horny men. I came four times to Mark’s three.
That afternoon, as I was showering, cleaning up in her guest bathroom, Marsha had come in under the pretense of grabbing a towel. She had handed me her phone number, given me a kiss and couple quick tugs on my dick. Marsha had then knelt down, sucked me into rock hardness and told me to spew my spunk onto her titties. I had obliged, thus accomplishing my fourth climax of the day.
A month or so later, Mark had told me that Marsha had come through on her part of the deal.
Marsha and I had gotten together to romp and rut a few times over the course of the following year or so. But around this time, her husband was transferred and she went with him to an overseas assignment in Saudi Arabia. I lost track of Marsha, until the very afternoon of my fuck session with Stella in October. I had stopped off at a neighborhood bar on my way home and there was Marsha!
Her and her husband had just returned to the states a couple weeks earlier and moved back into the house they had rented out when he was transferred. It was about four in the afternoon and the bar was yet to hit its happy hour apex. We talked a while and I flirted shamelessly, leering at her cleavage—she recalled a few of the times I had cum on her tits and the one fuck we enjoyed late one afternoon as I had bent her over the hood of my car in a mid-town parking garage—years ago.
We had left the bar discreetly, and she followed me to my place—Marsha insisting she had to be home no later than seven. She still looked great. Marsha’s titties sagged a little more than I remembered, and she was little broader in the bottom, but looked fucking great and she was till great at fucking.
Before our last go at it that evening, we had cuddled and chatted and drank—she still liked Glenfiddich. Marsha admitted she had resumed her fucking with Mark—and I admit to being a little jealous and hurt she had not reached out to me upon her return to the states. But she attempted to mollify my tinged ego by telling me, “Oh baby, I had forgotten just how good you are in bed.”
It was then I recalled that deal her and Mark had made years before. Well, Marsha had sat up—those titties, hot damn! Those titties had looked so good.
Marsha told me she had a lady friend who had only been with four men in her life—or so her friend Cathy claimed. A boyfriend during high school, a college boyfriend who she thought she was going to marry, a brief fling before she met and married her current husband who was turning out be a neglectful, verbally abusive asshole. Further, he was probably fucking his administrative assistant, among others.
I hadn’t owned my townhome back when Marsha and I first started getting it on. But, she really liked my place and asked if I was game for a play date with her and Cathy. Marsha had grabber her cell phone and showed some photos of Cathy—backyard barbecues, a girls’ night out. They showed a pretty woman in her late forties, short cropped, bleached blonde hair trimmed to a no nonsense length. It was difficult to get solid impression of her body shape, but there was one full length shot of her with half a dozen other women. A housewife beginning to gain some weight, lose control, but still pretty.
Marsha and I settled on the following Saturday. We agreed, Cathy or not, Marsha would still come over. At this point I was already plotting to establish an ongoing fuck buddy relationship with Marsha.
Both Marsha’s and Cathy’s husbands were slated to play all day Saturday in a fundraising gold tournament that Saturday, “They play golf for a couple of hours and then drink for eight.”
They arrived a little after nine and it was clear that Cathy was very nervous. Bleach blonde, with a nice tan, she had donned a pair of blue jeans and buttoned up blouse. Marsha, with her reddish-brown hair was pulled back in cute little pony tail. She wore a red halter top and white walking shorts. They could have been two soccer moms out on a shopping spree.
Well, after half an hour of small talk and coffee, Marsha finally said, “Listen Cathy honey, Dean and I are going to get started, because we’re both horny. You can join in whenever you feel like it. And if not, that’s okay too—just don’t leave without saying goodbye.”
They had arrived in separate cars, obviously. I later learned that was Cathy’s idea—in case she wanted to back out, I suppose.
I, in turn, told Cathy to make herself at home.
Marsha and I began kissing, and fondling and I had aimed her toward the upstairs bedroom, bringing her to a halt a couple times to pat that ass of hers. I love the whole process of a woman getting naked—whether I am undressing her, or she is stripping down for me.
In this case, we had both peeled and pulled at each other’s clothing. I had licked Marsha into readiness and she had sucked me into a state of raging arousal. We rolled around a while, I had straddled her prone body at the waist and titty fucked her. I had fucked her for a few minutes missionary style and she rode me, her titties hopping and flopping. But things got truly interesting when I was standing at the foot of the bed, doing her doggie style, both of us watching ourselves in the panel mirrors on the left and the right.
At one point, I had paused in my rump ramming to catch my breath and regain control. There had been a gentle, timid knock on the door and Cathy had peered inside. Marsha had laughed, “Talk about getting caught in flagrante, come on in honey. Dean’s not going to stop—not once he gets going.”
Now, in addition to being a voyeur, I am also an exhibitionist. While I hadn’t stopped my rump ramming, I had indeed slowed down. I think Cathy had come upstairs with the intention of saying goodbye—that she was bailing on us. You see, she had her purse.
But then, she watched us a while. Me, I’m grabbing ass, and giving those cheeks little love smacks and reaching around to grip and grope Marsha’s tits. I didn’t give a shit—I was fucking pussy.
Cathy went to my little wet bar and poured out some liquid courage, mixing herself a gin and tonic.
Me, “Oh that pussy feels so fucking good.”
Marsha, “Oh you’re big in there, baby.”
Cathy had stood by the wet bar, getting some ice from my little refrigerator, and watched.
Without breaking pace, I took a chance and extended a hand toward Cathy, “Come here baby. Come on, it’s okay.”
I had put my arm around her, and Cathy had looked down to view my dick slicking in and out of Marsha’s pussy. She stood—stands—about 5’2” if that. I got a little thrill watching her, watching my cock.
Marsha had bucked against me, “You two can have a fucking tea party back there for all I care, but don’t stop that humping, Dean.”
“Now,” I had told Cathy, “Marsha and I are going to have some fun today, just a little harmless fun. We’re just two consenting adults getting together to frolic for a while. You look like a gal who could use some fun—some of this kind of fun.”
As I continued to pump Marsha’s pussy, I had reached up with both hands to caress Cathy’s face, pulled her to me and kissed her—to my delight, she had kissed back. Then, she had taken a sip of her drink and rubbed a hand over my back—I really wanted her to go all the way down to my ass, but she didn’t.
Marsha had bucked against me a time or two again, “Fuck that pussy, Dean.”
I had touched Cathy’s chin and said, “At least let me see those titties.”
Cathy had then moved to the left side of the bed. Me? I was still fucking Marsha.
Marsha had then fallen onto her elbows, called out, “Okay Dean, show her how a man, how a real man fucks a pussy!”
And I had then launched into a rump ramming, butt banging, pussy pumping frenzy. Marsha has what I call an ample ass—not fat, not skinny. But her cheeks ripple and quake when she is banged from behind. Our bodies had clapped together and I had entered into my zone—I was fucking pussy and I was feeling fine!
Marsha came back up onto her hands and then I was watching Marsha’s tits flop and swing in the mirror, hell they galloped and clapped together as I hammered her hind end. Marsha had grunted like an a****l—yelling at me to get it, to fuck it, to wear it out!
I had told her, “Fuck! Hang in there baby, I’m getting close.”
Then, and I am convinced this was the tipping point for Cathy and the moment that would set the mood for the rest of the day—we were there to buck, fuck and suck and lick down, Marsha had ordered, “Pull out and show what kind of loads you pump out baby. Jack it out onto my ass.”
I was lost in lust, to say the least. I had motioned to Cathy and she had understood and followed through with undoing three or four buttons of her blouse. Parting the material, Cathy had revealed some deep rich cleavage—I would find later that she had a pair of 34 double D-cup sized titties.
As I’m humping and gasping and groaning and staring at Cathy’s cleavage while fucking Marsha’s pussy—well, I think Cathy got a little excited. She pulled off her blouse and bent forward and shook and shimmied those tits and I had pressed deep into Marsha’s pussy, stopping to regain control.
“Take off that fucking bra, turn those titties loose!” I had ordered, consumed with my need.
“Yes, Cathy, show him those boobs. That’ll get him off.”
Well, she had quickly reached back and unsnapped her bra to unleash a fine looking set of hanger bangers, big pear shaped titties.
Marsha, in turn sports a set of gourd shaped hooters, although saggers, they are bulbous, with the nipples aimed down and slightly outward. Cathy’s are splendid looking boobies with the nipples aimed forward—plump titties and ripe looking. When she swung them a little back and forth I couldn’t hold it any longer.
The thought of having two women to fuck throughout the day, getting my dick sucked, my balls licked, making these two married women moan and bark out their pleasure, me getting off on them, at them and inside them sent me to the edge.
I had pulled out and launched a thread of cum across Marsha’s ass and splattered spunk onto the small of her back, left an archipelago of cum on those cheeks.
I had gripped Marsha by the hips, “Come back here you pretty little bitch, I’m not done with that pussy.” I had humped her some more, even felt a few more throbs of pleasure as I enjoyed some more fucking.
Finally, Marsha had fallen forward, laughing, “Son of a bitch!”
We had taken a few minutes to clean ourselves up. When I had come out of the bathroom, Cathy was sitting on the edge of the bed, still in her jeans, but she had left her tits out—I regarded that as a good sign. Cathy had poured more gin into her glass. I grabbed a beer and Marsha poured out a healthy Glenfiddich.
I had then opened up the French doors that led to a small balcony. I heard Cathy ask Marsha, “Damn girl, do ya’ll go at it like that all the time?”
Marsha explained we had just resumed our romping a couple days before, “But with Dean and me, it’s like riding a bike—you never forget how to do it.”
I had taken a sip of beer and said to Cathy, “Honey, you can’t wave a pair of titties like that in front of a man like me without expecting to get them sucked on.”
I had boldly moved toward her, setting down my beer. She had stared at my swinging cock, and said, “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”
I admit to being greedy for pussy—it wasn’t enough to be able to fuck Marsha, I wanted it all! I had taken Cathy’s glass and tipped it to her lips, “Take another sip, baby.” I then handed off Cathy’s glass to Marsha—now my team mate. I had pulled Cathy to a standing position and then began kissing over her face, and shoulders and when I had touched those tits, we both had emitted a little gasp.
For her part, Cathy began to roam her hands over my shoulders and arms and chest. I had reached down and unsnapped her blue jeans; pleased she didn’t protest or push my hands away. We got them down to her hips and then I had gently pushed her back onto the bed, laying her down and then I had peeled off the blue jeans.
“Damn, baby. You’re beautiful,” I had told her. Cathy’s cotton panties were all that was in the way of my access to that pussy. I had pulled Marsha close, squeezed an ass cheek, fondled a titty and kissed her, “Lay down girl, let me get these pussies wet.”
I had then pulled off Cathy’s panties and found a moderately hairy, dark brown bush.
Once more, Cathy said, “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”
Marsha had positioned herself beside Cathy and replied, “Relax honey, you’re in for a treat. Dean is really good at this.”
I did my best to live up to that standard. I spent a lot of time kissing and licking thighs and pussy lips, the clits of both women—moving back and forth over and over. I had luxuriated in the thought of taking care of two married women—getting it done for them.
Cathy had said a time or two, “I can’t remember the last time a man did that to me.”
Soon, the musk of their readiness began to waft around me. Their wanton moaning, lewd writhing—I found myself getting hard again.
The two women rewarded my attention to their pussies by sitting up on the edge of the bed and taking turns sucking on my dick, letting me titty fuck them. I had spent several minutes moving from one woman to the other, back and forth. At this point, Cathy appeared to be pretty primed, randy and ready for some rutting.
Marsha had assumed the role of the dominant female, always verbal, she did some coaching, “That feel good Dean? Oh yes Cathy, lick those big balls, he likes getting his balls licked down.”
Now, I at this point I had only met Marsha’s husband a time or two. Marsha offered up the usual complaints—I suppose as a rationalization for fucking other men. I, of course, had never met Cathy’s husband—but her earlier litany of objections also had led her to wander off the home camp for some strange dick.
I remember feeling that lustful, perverse sense of sexual pride—here I was sticking my cock in the mouths of--in between the titties of--the women of two other men. Marsha had already spread her legs for me, stuck her ass up in the air for me. And, I had no doubt that Cathy was going to do the same for me throughout the day—that I was going to cum at, on and inside these two lusty women.
They had sucked me and licked me and titty fucked me to the edge a number of times, and finally, unable to hold off any longer, I had pulled my dick free from Cathy’s mouth, cupped her flushed face up and leered over her body, “I need pussy, I need to fuck that pussy.”
Marsha had crawled up on her knees and told Cathy, “Get ready, Cathy. Dean is in his zone baby. Get ready for a hard driving fuck, honey.”
Cathy had moved further up on the bed, her titties had lolled around—to wit I had uttered a feral, “Oh fuck, look at those fucking titties.” She had spread her legs for me and I maneuvered between them, stood up on my knees and leered at the sight. Cathy had stared through hooded eyes at me jacking on my dick.
I had looked over to Marsha, jacked to her as well. I had reached for her, pulling her to me. I had kissed Marsha while grabbing and smacking her ass.
“Look at you two big boobed beauties—all out there in your naked glory.”
I had reached under Cathy’s thighs, wrapped my arms around them and pulled her closer—she had emitted a little bark of joy, “Come here you. Let me in that pussy.”
Cathy had breathed out, her voice husky, “Oh Marsha look at him, look at how worked up he is.”
Then, Cathy had reached for me, “Oh yes, fuck me.” I had moaned, and smiled. Glad she was getting into the spirit of our fuck party.
As I’ve often said, a woman can suck you off to completion, hand job you to that wonderful eruption of spunk; you can use her titties to jack your dick and you can cum splatter those tits, her face, her ass, her tummy. But until you stick your cock inside a woman’s pussy—well, you haven’t really fucked her.
I had aimed my cock at her pussy lips and pressed slowly in—we both had gasped when I slid inside her, “Oh fuck,” I had called out.
Cathy had arched her back a bit and said, “Oh shit, you fill me up in there.”
I had stayed upright for a while, sitting on my ankles, fucking her pussy. I had alternated my gaze from my cock moving back and forth, looked across her abdomen and up to her titties and on to Cathy’s flushed face, slack mouth, half shuttered eyes. And then I had looked over to Marsha who was then sitting back on her ankles as well, rubbing her clit.
Then, I had moved up and loomed over Cathy, looking down onto the full length of that plush body, telling her how beautiful she looked. I had spaced out on top of that sex-warmed body. Hence I arrive at that exquisite moment with which I began this entry: me on top of Cindy, humping away and Marsha brushing my back and ass and thighs with her titties, while reminding me she wanted some of my cock action as well.
I love doing a woman missionary style—all that body on body contact. And as I’m humping and pumping I got to the edge half a dozen times; I had grabbed her ass, jiggled her jugs, kissed her and moaned and groaned as I fucked her with abandon. Then, I had moved my arms beneath her and gripped her shoulders and tried my damnedest to give her the best fuck—in Marsha’s words—the best hard driving fuck Cathy had ever had.
Marsha had coached, “Oh yes, nail that woman’s ass down! Fuck that damn pussy!”
Our bodies had clapped and smacked together, and Cathy’s ass bounced and her titties bobbled around and she moaned and emitted a high keen as her fingernails dug into my back and she climaxed, “Oh shit! Oh fuck! That’s good cock! Fuck it, fuck it fuck it!”
I had laid there on top of Cathy for a time, catching my breath. Then, I had risen up a little, still pumping Cindy and looked over to Marsha, “Lay down and spread those legs woman. I’m coming for your pussy next.”
As I had pulled free of Cathy, I had bent down to kiss her, “Damn baby. That was one fine fuck.”
“Oh shit, Dean—I haven’t had a man make me cum like that in years.”
Obviously, this just sent me deeper into that well of lust and desire and sexual need. I had loomed over Marsha at that point, jacking on my dick, proud of my cock, “These pussies are mine today—mine to fuck. Mine!”
Marsha had run her hands up and down my sides as my dickhead pressed against her pussy lips, “Oh baby, you’re the pussy fucker today. You’re the man, baby, get in there and get it done.”
Cathy had appeared a bit dazed but after a couple minutes or so, as I am fucking Marsha at that sweet, slow, pleasure giving lovemaking pace, Cathy had sat up and began roaming over my back and ass and thighs with her hands and titties, kissing my back, kissing my ass cheeks.
“That feel good baby?” I had asked a few times. Even though she liked to fuck around, this day Marsha was my fuck.
“Oh Dean, honey, how could I forget what a good fucker you are. Oh shit, that feels so fucking good. Keep pumping me, baby. I am so glad we bumped into each other the other day. So, you could do this to me.”
I began to pick up the pace until I was, as I had with Cindy a few minutes before, nailing Marsha’s ass to that fucking bed.
Cathy had continued to treat me to her gentle touch—tits and fingers and lips, “Oh you two look so good fucking.”
Abruptly, Marsha had gripped my ass with both hands, dug in her fingernails and yelped, “Fuck! Bear down baby! Oh shit!”
Marsha’s body had gone limp, she had sighed, “Oh baby, you did it again.”
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” I had said and pulled free, still consumed with lust. “Both of you, fuck! Look what you do to my dick!”
After I had pulled out and stood up on my knees, I had reached for Cathy and she had turned to face me fully, her standing up on her knees as well, giving me full access to that lush body. I had grabbed and groped at Cathy—patting her ass, sucking on her titties, burying my face into their plush, pillow softness.
Marsha had sat up and leveled her legs over the edge of the bed. She had begun to rub over my thighs, and then took my cock in hand, “Our man needs to cum. You ready to cum, baby?”
“Oh fuck yes, I need to cum. Want to cum in a pussy! Need to cum in a pussy!”
I had maneuvered Cathy, “Get on your hands and knees, baby, aim that ass my way.”
Then, I had aimed my cock at her pussy, slid in and smiled at Cathy’s gasp and once more as she had breathed out those sweet words, “Fuck, that’s big in there.”
Marsha had stood up and positioned herself behind me, on my left hand side and rubbed her titties over my arm, “Told you Cathy. I knew you would like that cock.” Marsha had pressed her tits against my back, rubbing her right hand over my ass as I humped away at Cathy. Marsha and reached around with her left hand and rubbed softly over my chest.
I had patted Cathy’s ass and reached down and around to fondle and feel her titties, “Oh look at that baby, look at you in that mirror. Look at your titties hanging down, your ass in the air—oh you look so damned good getting fucked.”
Cathy had kept moaning, “Oh fuck that feels so good.” And I had continued to happily hump away. That pussy had felt so wonderful, those titties had looked so lovely as they swung around, that ass—of fuck, that ass was a dream.
At one point, as I was getting close, I had looked down to view my cock slicking in and out of her pussy, Marsha’s left hand was still rubbing over my chest. I noticed her engagement and wedding rings. I had looked slightly to Cathy’s left and noticed her rings. I had then looked at the three of us reflected in the mirror—hubby’s rings on their fingers, but my cock that was getting in their pussies—I felt so fucking fine, felt so fine fucking!
Suddenly, the surge began, “Oh damn! Oh shit! Gonna cum. Oh you’re my bitches today! You’re my bitches! Mine!”
“Oh, yes!” Cathy had called out, bumping against me, “Fuck it! Cum in there! Get it done, baby. I’m your bitch, baby.”
Marsha had patted my ass and said, “Oh Dean, look at you fucking that woman. Oh baby, you’re taking care of two women today—you’re the pussy fucker today, baby. You’re such a man.”
Well, that ego stroking tipped me over the edge and I had cum hard, I was so fucking worked up—I shot it into Cathy’s pussy and growled out in triumph—my spunk in the pussy of another man’s woman. I felt so strong, so proud of my load, proud of my cock.
“Damn baby,” Marsha had slapped my ass and moved over to retrieve her drink. I had pulled free of Cathy’s pussy and she had fallen forward, huffing, “Oh fuck!”
We had taken a few minutes to clean up; the girls taking care of their pussies, me wiping down and toweling off my dick.
The next fuck was another great one. The two women had gone downstairs to grab some snacks. I had opened a fresh beer and climbed into bed, positioning myself against the headboard. The women had returned in due course—bearing fruit, crackers, various spreads, and drinks. They climbed onto the bed on either side of me, tits swinging and wobbling around.
The two women chatted and chatted and chatted some more. They ate and drank with lusty fervor and I sat in between them, looking from one body to the other and back again. For my part, I was rubbing along their thighs—on occasion touching a titty or two.
And the women continued to chat about their mutual friends—and they continued to eat. Finally, sated on food, Cathy got up to the wet bar to freshen both her and Marsha’s drinks. Me, I then had reached for Marsha. I pulled her down beside me, “Oh baby, oh Dean honey, you ready to get worked up again?”
I had roamed my hands, mouth and cock all over that woman’s body. I had sucked on her nipples, moved down to kiss her clit, rolled her over and licked and kissed her ass. I could hear Cathy behind me, sipping her drink, watching. Then, I heard her glass being set down and she had climbed into bed with us. I next felt her hands and tits and tongue running over my back and shoulders and ass.
I rolled around and proceeded to enjoy Cathy’s body—kissing, touching, cock stroking over her while Marsha pressed against my back. I had felt as if every nerve ending in my body was firing—the pleasure center of my brain was overloaded.
My cock was so hard, and each time one of the women would touch it, or I would brush against them I was afraid of shooting out my spunk.
Marsha had, at one point, gently pushed me on to my back. They had then proceeded to give a fine round of tit rubbing, taking turns sucking my dick, hand jobbing, titty fucking me. Wonderful. Absolutely, fucking wonderful.
And, dear ready, if you haven’t had two women taking turns sucking your dick, taking turns titty fucking you, hand jobbing you—then you haven’t lived my friend. And these two really got into it—Marsha doing the directing, really being the naughty alpha girl, “Oh yes, Cathy, lick those balls, yeah, gets those titties all over that dick, jack him slow,” And so on.
Finally, Marsha had rubbed her hooters across my face one last time, “Lay back, baby. You’re going to be our tool.”
And, these two had taken turns riding my cock. Switching off three times each, it was fantastic. They had ridden to climax on the third go. For my part, my hands were everywhere I could reach—ass, tits, thighs, faces, arms.
Each time while one of the women was riding me, the other one had leveled her titties over my face. Sweet.
But it was the third round, when Marsha was working her clit hard against me, that she had whooped and hollered and climaxed like a wanton vixen. I had briefly wondered just how many men this woman was fucking—her husband, Mark, me. Who else? This woman liked to fuck! Simple as that!
But, I was proud that morning—being the big dick in the room, tending to two pussies. Then, they had sweetly jacked me off to completion—again taking turns, kissing me, rubbing over me, and letting me suck and kiss and nuzzle into their titties. Jism had erupted from my cock to the approving coos and caws of the two women, the man mess was impressive.
As I had climaxed, I had shouted out, “Oh my bitches! My fucking bitches! You’re fucking beautiful!”
As the spunk oozed and throbbed out of me, Catchy still jacking on my dick, I had looked down the length of my body to survey the scene. Then, I had laid my head back—spent—and my hands lovingly down their backs and grabbed and patted an ass cheek of each woman.
“Damn, you girls know how to get it out of me.”
Marsha had then bent forward and begun to rub her titties over my cock, abdomen and thighs, “Oh Dean, baby, you’re the rocket man. Shit, look at all that.”
Marsha had then taken the rag and towel to my dick. The women had climbed out of bed to once more attend to their pussies. I got out of bed and took my beer downstairs.
Half an hour later, we were sitting in the hot tub. The women had resumed their steady pace of chatter. And Cathy was getting a little tipsy—and frisky. She was turning out to be a nice little playmate. Marsha was still belting back the scotch.
Plus, I had gotten in three good fucks—and it wasn’t even noon. We fucked once in the hot tub, or more accurately at the edge. Now, for that go at the women, it took a while for me to get “camera ready” as they say in porn flicks. I had pulled Marsha close, kissed over her face and shoulders, played with her titties, her ass—enjoying her hands roaming over me. Then, I had moved to Cathy to cop a good feel, back to Marsha, back to Cathy. Admittedly, the only thing better than having a naked, big titter in your Jacuzzi, is having two naked, big titters.
I had told the women to sit on the edge and I had spent some time licking the pussy of each woman, back and forth, back and forth. They had rewarded me, by taking turns at sucking my dick and licking my balls.
Once I was fully pronged out, the women had positioned themselves so I could do a nice side-by-side round of fucking—banging the butt of one woman, then pulling free and rump ramming the other, back and forth, back and forth.
I had lost control and climaxed, shot off into Marsha’s pussy—but it felt so fucking good. Shortly afterwards, the women pronounced themselves hungry, famished. I had ordered from my favorite pizzeria—two craft pizzas, wings, Greek salads and so on.
We had gone inside to await our food. Cathy was concerned over her tan lines—didn’t want hubby to get suspicious. I had donned some gym shorts and the girls put on their panties but left their tits out. Little Rocky had delivered our meal—I’ve been told that there is some competition when it comes to bringing food to me. And Little Rocky did his best to look over my shoulder as I signed the ticket and tipped him.
During the meal, Cathy’s husband had called—a little argument had ensued. One of Marsha’s k**s—one that doesn’t live with her--had called as well.
When the food arrived, we had feasted with fervor. And, the women had again picked up their chatter. I had gone onto the patio to take a couple of calls. My maintenance crew was finishing up a project on one of my commercial properties. My bed buddy Stella had called as well from one of her dress shops—wondering if we were going out that night. I had faked an excuse—telling her I was unsure, as I might have to entertain a couple of prospective buyers that night, but would let her know ASAP.
The women then came out onto the deck. Cathy was in her bra and panties and was rubbing sunscreen on her body. Marsha was in her panties. They had lain out on the loungers, both with fresh drinks.
Somewhat to my disappointment, Cathy dozed off. Well fed, boozed up and I would like to think finely fucked, she was tired.
Marsha and I talked awhile. It seems that at some point our friend Mark had texted her, asking if she was available to party down. Marsha told me she had replied she couldn’t today, had to work. I was relieved she had not invited him to join us—I did not want to share these pussies.
I maneuvered myself at the end of the loungers, and had then worked my way, my tongue and lips along her legs, beginning with her shins and then to the thighs. Her spreading so nicely to welcome me, I had finally made my way to her pussy—after making her beg for it. I had teased her, gently flicked my tongue over her lips and clit, but going back and forth to each thigh, licking and nibbling.
At this point, I heard Cathy’s phone buzz and she had sat up, cursing lightly, “Shit! It’s my husband again. I think is already getting drunk.” She had stood and walked into my townhome. I had risen up and began jerking off to the sight of her wagging ass.
Then, I had stood and looked over the big tittied, wide hipped tableau of Marsha’s body. Her knees raised, thighs winged out—a woman ripe and ready for some fucking.
“Damn, Dean.”
Now, as I’ve mentioned a number of times elsewhere, I love getting naked and fucking outdoors. I feel so free and unencumbered. And that afternoon I felt so fucking wonderful. My deck is a superb place for such fun and frolic. Old, fully foliaged trees line the walkway that hugs the back of this series of townhomes, obscuring any view across the small park.
In Houston, we enjoy—or suffer through—warm weather well into the fall. The sun had warmed my shoulders, back and ass. I had climbed up on the lounger, unceremoniously spaced out on top of her, and stuck my cock up inside Marsha’s pussy. I had luxuriated in the fact that could just fuck and fuck and fuck these women at will.
“You’re my little slut today.”
“Oh yes, Dean, I’m you’re fuck today. Get after it, fuck that pussy like you own it.”
I am sure, with her body and her usual eagerness to get naked and get it on that she was hopping around between other men. Don’t misunderstand me, I wasn’t jealous, but my male pride urged me to do my best to move up to the top of her list of bed buddies.
So, I again launched into a piston pumping fuck.
“I’m gonna nail down that fucking ass of yours, baby.”
The lounger began to groan and I reveled in the guttural grunts that Marsha emitted with each of my down thrusts onto her, into her pussy. Cathy came back out and I had glanced up just in time to see her stagger slightly—little bitch was getting drunk.
Cathy had moved close and as I’m bearing down on Marsha, I hear Cathy taking a drink, the ice had clinked, “Oh look what I’m missing out on.”
I had growled out, in my zone, “Yeah, little woman, get over there and lay down. I’m coming after your pussy next.”
But Marsha had dug her nails into my ass cheeks, “No don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop. Keep fucking, I’m fucking close.”
Then, I had another primal thought—here I was, getting to use these two women, other men’s wives, to get my pleasure, just fuck them and fuck them, getting my dick sucked by them, cuming on their titties and asses, licking their pussies, making them moan like whores.
As Marsha climaxed, it took a monumental amount of self-control for me not to shoot off as well. Marsha had grunted and cursed and bucked up against me. And, then her body had gone limp and she had exhaled, “Oh, you son of a bitch! Fuck, Dean!”
She had moved her hands over my back and ass and thighs, “Oh baby, you didn’t cum did you? Your turn.”
I had pulled out and climbed off her and leered over at Cathy who was sipping her drink, messaging her clit and watching us. I had jacked on my dick and said, “That’s okay, baby. I have some fucking over here to do.”
As I did with Marsha, I took my time licking and kissing and tongue fucking Cathy’s pussy. I heard Marsha stand and go into the townhouse. Birds chirped, the wind hissed and shushed through the leaves of the trees and Cathy moaned.
After a few minutes of this attention, Cathy had lifted up my head and looked down at me through the valley made between her tits, “Fuck me, Dean. Climb on up here and fuck me.”
But unlike my immediately preceding fuck with Marsha, I had taken my time with Cathy. I made love to her. I kissed her lips, face, neck, shoulders and her plump titties. I told her repeatedly how beautiful she was, how lovely she looked in the throes of passion. I told her how wonderful she felt. It was indeed, all true.
Cathy in turn had whispered and gasped, “Oh you’re so good at this, such a strong lover. Oh I love that dick of yours.”
In many ways, it was, all in all, one of the best rounds of the day for me. I made it last.
Marsha had come back out, talking on her phone. She had run a hand down my back, patted my ass and then gone to sit in the hot tub.
I had then pulled up and told Cathy, “Oh sweetness, roll over and lift up that ass. Let me look at that oh so gorgeous ass as I fuck your sweet pussy.”
And I had indeed enjoyed looking at that rich looking, broad bottom. Again, I had taken my time, savoring that body, those hanging titties, patting and gripping those cheeks, pushing in and out of that pussy.
While Marsha was—is--a very good fuck, there was something about Cathy that I really, really liked. As I mentioned, Marsha’s titties were great looking saggers, Cathy’s tits were plump, pear shaped beauties. Both women are short, lush bodied. But Cathy had-has--a true hourglass figure.
I had been there, kneeling at Cathy’s ass, pumping her pussy, gripping her hips, loving the feeling of pure hedonistic delight—fucking and fucking and fucking. Cathy was repeatedly sighing and gasping, telling me, “Oh yes, I love it, I love it, oh keep fucking baby, keep fucking me.”
I had pulled out again, and told her to roll over once more onto her back. Cathy had lifted up her legs, stretched her arms out for me and I had leered down at this wanton woman. I had spread out on top of her, and slipped inside of her, surrendering completely to that splendid feel of fucking. I had resumed my pussy pumping.
I remember those sweet words as Cathy’s breathing became labored, “Oh Dean, oh honey, bear down a bit more. Oh please fuck me hard, I’m getting close.”
I love hearing and watching a woman climax—especially if I’m involved. And Cathy’s climax that time was a delicious thing to experience from my perspective.
Then, her entire body had spasmed and Cathy had yelled out, “Fuck me! Faster! Oh shit!”
I had made a mental note to tell my bed buddy Stella just how much she scratched my back when we were fucking—I was certain both Marsha and Cathy had left some tell-tale evidence.
“That sounded like it felt good, baby.”
“Oh shit, that was incredible. Your turn honey.”
“I need some titty baby, I need to cum on those titties.”
“Oh I love watching you cum, Dean. It takes you over completely. Come on up here and get yourself some titty.”
And I had gotten myself some titty. I had moved up and straddled her at the waist and gathered up Cathy’s titties. After reaching down and picking up a bottle of sunscreen, I had slicked up her big beauties. Then, I had slipped in between them and rocked back and forth for a quite a while, loving that tit flesh hugging my cock. Periodically, Cathy, who was gripping my ass throughout that titty fuck, would pull me closer to her face and she would suck my dick for a moment or two—then, I would move back to the tits. To say the least, it was wonderful.
When I climaxed, it shot out and I had gasped and Cathy had urged me on, “Oh sweetie, look at you go, yes, put it all out there.”
Cathy had come a long way within these few hours—from a nervous, shy woman to wanton little fuck.
I then jacked out my load, a thread had made its way up and spunk had pooled in the hollow of her throat. Then, I had pumped it out, speckling those titties with my jism. For a few moments, I had gazed over those sweet feeling, lovely looking, cum glazed mounds that had offered me such prurient joy. I was fairly certain that since Marsha and I had resumed our rutting that Wednesday afternoon that I would get to fuck her again in the future. I was less certain of being able to do so Cathy.
Well, the three of us had played in the hot tub for a while. I knew both women would have to leave my place no later than five o’clock—they were slated to meet their husbands at a local pub for dinner and drinks. So, I was determined to get in as much titty togging, pussy pumping, ass grabbing fun as I could—especially with Cathy.
However, because of all our sexual exertions and the booze, it took a long while for the three of us to get me hard and ready for more fuck action. But I had enjoyed so much the feel of two different sets of hands roaming all over me, jacking on my dick, fondling my ass beneath the water, pulling me out of the water to sit on edge to feel two different sets of lips and tongue working on me. I had enjoyed roaming my hands over two different sets of titties, asses, fingering up into two different pussies.
Once worked up, it had taken me a long to time achieve climax. The ladies had attributed that to my staying power—at least that’s what they said. Nevertheless, my cock had stayed true to its task—faithful old soldier that it is—and they had enjoyed some “long time” fucking.
My own climax—while less intense that the previous ones, was nevertheless a nice one—I had pumped it into Marsha’s pussy, banging her from behind.
The angle of the sun began to aim more light and heat on my deck so we had gone upstairs to roll around in bed again. Once more, they had sandwiched me between their bodies, me taking turns fucking one woman missionary style, the other tit rubbing me, fondling my balls and stroking over my back, switching women a couple of times. Again, it had taken a long time to get hard and, longer, to get off.
They were very patient with me and when I finally did get hard, they had sweetly done another side-by-side. Yes, on their hands and knees, at the edge of the bed, I had stuck cock in one pussy, fucked it while, then moved over the other women—back and forth, back and forth.
Even though I knew it all was coming to an end—pardon the pun—I had looked out through the open French doors, onto the warm, Houston autumn day, the bright light, the fresh breeze and I felt like the king of all pussy fuckers.
At that critical moment, I had pulled out of Cathy’s pussy and told both women to get on their knees and bunch up of those big beauties. I had shot out a load, not huge, but given the amount of jism I had jacked out throughout the day, I had enough to spot and sprinkle both sets of titties with some of it.
My final climax with these two women was in the shower.
Exhausted, sore, and truly “fucked out” I had gone out onto my deck after they had left and pondered, reflected over, the day. I was, admittedly, a little drunk. Stella had texted three times during the day to ask about our plans for the evening—after she had closed up her dress shop in the Rice Village area of Houston. I was not about to get behind the wheel of a car, and had no inclination about cleaning up my townhouse.
Stella, I knew if she came over, would figure out I had been fucking someone during the afternoon—so I used the excuse that I had to entertain a couple of prospective buyers of one of my properties. I had promised to take to her out to brunch the next morning. To wit, she had replied—I could almost feel the vitriol of her reply, “We’ll see.”
Around eight o’clock or so, I received a text from Marsha. Marsha wrote that she was “on a potty break” at the restaurant. Told me that her and Cathy’s hubby drunk. I hadn’t realized they were all going out to dinner together!
A little while later, Marsha had texted again, “Walking around bowlegged because of you, you dirty old man.”
Still later, Marsha texted, “Cathy gives you rave reviews.”
I admit, that I went to bed a little early that night, at least for me.
The next morning, Stella and I did meet for brunch. She was a little miffed at me, not entirely convinced of my excuse the night before—and when Stella had suggested we go to my place, I had used another standard excuse that my son, his girlfriend and some friends had used my place for a hot tub party the night before and had crashed there.
It wasn’t until we were walking to our respective cars that Stella had invited me over to her place for a frolic—her desire to get fucked overcoming her frustration with me. As we were cuddling after our first round of climaxing, I had received another text from Marsha. It read, “C wants more. Afraid hubby will find your # on her cell. C will buy a pre-paid phone—can I give her ur #?’
Well, you can imagine what I replied.
However, as I post this missive, I do so just as Cathy’s car is pulling away from the curb—yes, she just left my place after an afternoon of play time.
I think I might have found a new bed buddy!
AFTERWORD: As a final note, as of this posting, I’ve been with Marsha once more since that fantastic threesome experience. She and I spent a Wednesday together. It was a nice day, we were very relaxed around each other and of course the sex was rowdy and raucous, whooping and hollering and being vulgar—we had fucked with abandon.
But I have no illusions. She will never be a steady fuck for me. Marsha is just too horny to spread those legs for only one man or two. After my most recent go at Marsha, I had met Mark for a beer one afternoon and he told that Marsha had relayed to him my threesome experience. And yes, Marsha and he were also getting after it. Mark was also fairly certain she was fucking another man, married, named Roger who hung out in one of our local bars. So, including her husband, Marsha was—is—spreading it around quite liberally.
As for Cathy, we’ve been together three times since that threesome. And, this little affair comes none too soon. My married bed buddy, Helen, the one with the Hindenburg hooters, has really been reined in by her asshole of a husband, John. And my other bed buddy, Stella, is often upset with me—telling me that I’m like Charlie Sheen in Two and a Haft Men, except without the money and beach house in Malibu. She periodically cuts me off and that simply drives me nuts.
I met Cathy’s husband Clint one night at a local pub. It was one of those periods of time when Stella and I were getting along and she had met me there for a drink before going to my place to fuck.
Marsha and Clint asked us to join them and I had the surrealistic sensation—I was sitting at a table where I have fucked all three women. Clint and Joe, for that matter, were “in their cups” having again spent the day golfing and boozing it up. I left that evening feeling much less guilty about fucking their women.
Sometime later that evening, as I had rolled off Stella—sated on sex for the moment—she had cuddled up to me and asked, “So which of those two women tonight have you fucked?”
Well, I had negotiated my way through that proverbial landmine, but as of today, Stella is in another of her “legs clamped shut” moods.
It is now the day before Thanksgiving around 5:30 in the afternoon. Cathy just left my place about fifteen minutes ago. A day of marathon fucking! And yes, I believe I have found a new bed buddy. It’s always a good sign when your bed buddy initiates the rendezvous.
The final fuck today, Cathy was on her hands and knees—it had been a round robin session of fucking—missionary, cowgirl, 69, reverse cowgirl, cock sucking, pussy licking, titty fucking, hand jobbing, wonderful.
And Cathy had said to me, ordered really, “I need to feel you cum inside me, Dean. I love the way you go wild back there.”
And, I had accommodated her nicely—if I do say so myself. I had hammered it home, piston fucked her and turned that un-tanned territory of her ass bright pink as my body had rammed against her again and again and again.
A little while later, after she had showered and dressed, we had kissed long and hard, me cherishing this pleasure giving woman.
And, wow, she has been gone only fifteen, twenty minutes now and I receive a text from her, “Miss you already.”
Yes, I have indeed found a new fuck buddy!
For my best fuck in the Month of October, allow me to open up with the following scene: It is ten-thirty on a Saturday morning. I am lying on top of a lush bodied woman named Cathy, pumping her pussy. She has some great tan lines that highlight her plush hooters and her nipples are button hard, and I lick one of them. Her hands are playing over my back and ass. Another woman, named Marsha, is on her knees to my left and she has her ample titties d****d over my shoulders. She brushes and strokes them over my back, and then my ass and thighs. With one of her hands, she fondles my balls. I am watching all the action reflected in the mirrors on my right. Marsha kisses my shoulder and tells me, “Now Dean baby, don’t you cum yet. Remember you have two pussies to take care of today.”
Dear reader, I was indeed one lucky fucker that day.
A couple blog entries ago I wrote that for me, as far as getting pussy, it’s either feast or famine. August had been sparse and September had been full of sexual adventure. In that month, I had a couple good rounds with my married fuck buddy Helen, the one with the Hindenburg hooters. Also, Stella and I had a great time down on Galveston Island. She had been especially horny and we had a very naughty time of it over the course of two days.
And, there were the two sex providers I procured while on a little vacation in Destin Florida. See my “Best Fuck in September” for details.
But for the first two weeks of October, well, there was no pussy, no touch of titty, no lips on my shaft and no tongue on my balls. Nothing. Nada. So, when I was able to hook up with my bed buddy Stella, I tried my best to make up for lost time.
On Tuesday evening, as she had left one of the two dress shops she owns, ending her workday, Stella had called and invited me over. We usually fuck at my place, as Stella’s daughter had recently moved back in and now lives with her. But in this case I drove over, arriving around 6:30 in the evening. Stella and I got naked and fucked throughout the night and well into the following day—Wednesday was a day off for her.
At one point, late in the night, early in the morning, I had her bent over a chair in her bedroom—banging her from behind and Stella had laughed when I had slowed down in my fucking to regain control, “Damn Dean, are you going to fuck me until I pass out baby?”
To wit, I had replied, “Baby, I’m so worked up I’d probably keep on fucking you even if you passed out.”
So, it was this session with Stella that I thought I might tout as the best fuck for October. That is, until the following Saturday.
But before I relate my best fuck in October, indulge me as I describe one incident during my most recent fuck time with Stella. Over the course of the past several months that Stella and I have been getting together to romp and rut, a curious pattern has been established whenever I am staying at her place.
As I mentioned, Stella’s daughter Megan is living with her. Megan just went through a divorce and is working to get back on her feet—forgive the cliché. She is an attractive, smaller breasted, more slender version of her mother. She works part time in one of her mother’s shops and takes classes at the University of Houston. It has taken her a while to accept me and for me to warm to her.
Then, there is Cindy, Stella’s sister who is, in turn, a blonde version of Stella. Cindy is more slim and delicate of frame but pretty.
Now, this strange pattern began to emerge a couple months ago, on a Sunday morning, while I was humping away at Stella—doing her missionary style—there was a knock on the fucking bedroom door. Stella had yelled out, “Go away!” She had laughed and told me, “Keep going baby, keep pumping.” Then, she had called out, “Give us a few minutes, dammit!”
I had continued my fucking until I climaxed with a few growls and grunts. As soon as I rolled off Stella, in walks Megan! She wanted to borrow a scarf or some shit. Then, as I sit up and lean against the headboard, Stella gets up, naked, and helps her daughter find the scarf!
An hour or so later, I am standing up at the edge of the bed. I have Stella on her knees and elbows and I’m doing her from behind, loving that view, grabbing that ass, pumping that pussy. And, there is another fucking knock on the door!
Again, Stella had called out and I had hammered home another climax. Then, just as I climbed into bed and covered up, in walks Cindy! And, Megan! And, the two of them sit down on the bed.
Cindy, who lives with her husband a few blocks away, had brought some breakfast tacos and wanted to share! Incredible! Well, the four of us ate and then, Stella, naked, gets out of bed goes into the kitchen to get some beers. Talk about awkward. I feigned nonchalance, and we chatted, while keeping my lower body covered.
Stella climbed back into bed, handing me a beer and covered up to her waist. And we all had a little brunch. No one seemed to mind the fact that Stella and I had been fucking all night and morning and that we were naked beneath the covers.
After a while, Stella had reached under the blanket to find me somewhat hard and told her daughter and sister, “You two get out of here, sweeties. And don’t come back for an hour or so!”
Getting up, Stella had locked the door and I jacked to the sight of her, ready for some more of that pussy.
Well, some variation on this theme has run each time I spend the night and morning with Stella. I’m not sure what to make of this. And, I haven’t broached the subject with Stella. She seems perfectly fine with the periodic intrusions.
Now, to be honest, I would never fuck Megan. Well, guess one can never say “never”—but I would not want to mess up this fuck time I get have with her mother. Would I do Cindy? Only if such were suggested by Stella, but yes, I’d do her.
Further, I admit that I take a bit of perverse pleasure to being the only dick in that house. Even though I am only fucking Stella, her daughter and sister knows I’m getting it—over and over. They’ve joked about the whoops and yelps they can hear while we’re “doing it.”
A mutual joke between Megan and Cindy is that when Stella gets in a “pissy” mood, they say, “Time to call Dean. She needs evened out”
Well, on this Wednesday morning, while Stella was riding me and I was roaming my hands all over that body of hers, another fucking knock! It was Cindy. Stella had fallen forward onto me, and whispered, “Shit I need to change that damned lock on the front door. My sister is becoming a pest.”
I had called out this time, “Give us a few more minutes, Cindy.” Of course, it occurred to me that every time we tell Megan or Cindy to wait a few minutes, they know that Stella and I are either fucking, she is sucking me or I am licking her.
I had rolled Stella over and happily humped away at her, getting my pleasure. This time, Stella had gotten up to unlock the door. Cindy had come in with the carafe of coffee that Stella and I had brewed earlier and I remember thinking whether Cindy “had a life.” Cindy seemed to spend a lot time at her sister’s house. Cindy refilled our cups and set the carafe on a dresser. She went to Stella’s closet, asking about a blue blouse. Finding it, with her back to us, she took off her blouse, revealing a white bra and put on the blue blouse. Now, here is the intriguing aspect, Cindy didn’t button up that blouse until she grabbed her cup of coffee and climbed up to sit Indian style at the foot of the bed. I glanced at Stella and, God help me, my dick was getting hard.
Stella seemed to not even notice—she asked her sister if Cindy’s husband had calmed down, apparently there had been an argument. I, for my part, stared at Cindy’s titties. Not as big and bountiful as Stella’s but there was some nice, dick hardening cleavage.
But, alas, Cindy did eventually button them up, leaving an inch or so exposed of that deep ravine of tit flesh. Then, of all things, in comes Megan! And she was wearing a t-shirt—her sleep attire--and a pair of cotton panties. She poured a cup of coffee and climbed into bed next to her aunt Cindy!
The three of them gossiped about family, work, school, Megan’s ex and Cindy’s current husband. I just sat there, sipping coffee, rubbing over Stella’s ass beneath the covers, glancing at Megan’s bare legs and Cindy’s hint of tit.
Finally, Stella had reached beneath the comforter and felt my dick and balls, “You two need to find your own man, now get out of here, the both of you.”
Cindy had laughed and said, “Damn Stella, is your man ready to go again?”
Megan had said, crawling out of bed, “Aunt C. You should have heard them last night. Had to put on my fucking headphones! Sounded like there was some remodeling going on in here.”
I had fucked Stella with renewed vigor for the rest of the morning until early afternoon—occasionally picturing Cindy’s tits and Megan’s legs and cotton clad ass as I did so. Yes, we whooped and hollered and grunted and groaned, with abandon. Then, I had taken all three of them to lunch.
Well, on to the best fuck in the month of October.
Let me preface by saying that up until that final weekend of the month of October, it had been five years since I’ve had two women at the same time.
First, some background. Several years ago, and a couple months after I moved into an apartment, as Donna and I were gearing up for a divorce, on a Saturday afternoon one of my buddies, Mark, came over. He had with him a twelve pack of beer. We started drinking and watching a baseball game. At one point, he took a call, going out onto my balcony. At the time, Mark was married to a crazy, hormone challenged woman ten years his junior, and he was always shopping for new pussy.
When he came back, Mark flat out asked, “So Dean, you want to get fucked?” Mark taught at a local high school and had a fellow teacher named Marsha that he got together with and banged, from time to time, he had told me some stories. Mark explained that one of his fantasies was to be with two women at the same time. As it happened, one of Marsha’s fantasies was to be with two men. She had promised to recruit a female playmate to join her and Mark if he would do likewise by persuading a man to join them. Thus, the reason for Mark’s spur of the moment invitation for me to join them.
And, we went over to her house right away. Her husband was off on a fishing trip and her twenty-something, living at home son was off on a camping trip. Marsha turned out to be a delightful looking, healthy hootered woman—at the time in her early forties. A MILF.
I was in need of pussy in a real bad way. She had taken turns sucking our dicks, back and forth, back and forth. Mark did her doggie style while she sucked my cock, and then Mark and I reversed positions. I, of course, got in some titty fucking. All in all, that woman got fucked for a couple hours by two very horny men. I came four times to Mark’s three.
That afternoon, as I was showering, cleaning up in her guest bathroom, Marsha had come in under the pretense of grabbing a towel. She had handed me her phone number, given me a kiss and couple quick tugs on my dick. Marsha had then knelt down, sucked me into rock hardness and told me to spew my spunk onto her titties. I had obliged, thus accomplishing my fourth climax of the day.
A month or so later, Mark had told me that Marsha had come through on her part of the deal.
Marsha and I had gotten together to romp and rut a few times over the course of the following year or so. But around this time, her husband was transferred and she went with him to an overseas assignment in Saudi Arabia. I lost track of Marsha, until the very afternoon of my fuck session with Stella in October. I had stopped off at a neighborhood bar on my way home and there was Marsha!
Her and her husband had just returned to the states a couple weeks earlier and moved back into the house they had rented out when he was transferred. It was about four in the afternoon and the bar was yet to hit its happy hour apex. We talked a while and I flirted shamelessly, leering at her cleavage—she recalled a few of the times I had cum on her tits and the one fuck we enjoyed late one afternoon as I had bent her over the hood of my car in a mid-town parking garage—years ago.
We had left the bar discreetly, and she followed me to my place—Marsha insisting she had to be home no later than seven. She still looked great. Marsha’s titties sagged a little more than I remembered, and she was little broader in the bottom, but looked fucking great and she was till great at fucking.
Before our last go at it that evening, we had cuddled and chatted and drank—she still liked Glenfiddich. Marsha admitted she had resumed her fucking with Mark—and I admit to being a little jealous and hurt she had not reached out to me upon her return to the states. But she attempted to mollify my tinged ego by telling me, “Oh baby, I had forgotten just how good you are in bed.”
It was then I recalled that deal her and Mark had made years before. Well, Marsha had sat up—those titties, hot damn! Those titties had looked so good.
Marsha told me she had a lady friend who had only been with four men in her life—or so her friend Cathy claimed. A boyfriend during high school, a college boyfriend who she thought she was going to marry, a brief fling before she met and married her current husband who was turning out be a neglectful, verbally abusive asshole. Further, he was probably fucking his administrative assistant, among others.
I hadn’t owned my townhome back when Marsha and I first started getting it on. But, she really liked my place and asked if I was game for a play date with her and Cathy. Marsha had grabber her cell phone and showed some photos of Cathy—backyard barbecues, a girls’ night out. They showed a pretty woman in her late forties, short cropped, bleached blonde hair trimmed to a no nonsense length. It was difficult to get solid impression of her body shape, but there was one full length shot of her with half a dozen other women. A housewife beginning to gain some weight, lose control, but still pretty.
Marsha and I settled on the following Saturday. We agreed, Cathy or not, Marsha would still come over. At this point I was already plotting to establish an ongoing fuck buddy relationship with Marsha.
Both Marsha’s and Cathy’s husbands were slated to play all day Saturday in a fundraising gold tournament that Saturday, “They play golf for a couple of hours and then drink for eight.”
They arrived a little after nine and it was clear that Cathy was very nervous. Bleach blonde, with a nice tan, she had donned a pair of blue jeans and buttoned up blouse. Marsha, with her reddish-brown hair was pulled back in cute little pony tail. She wore a red halter top and white walking shorts. They could have been two soccer moms out on a shopping spree.
Well, after half an hour of small talk and coffee, Marsha finally said, “Listen Cathy honey, Dean and I are going to get started, because we’re both horny. You can join in whenever you feel like it. And if not, that’s okay too—just don’t leave without saying goodbye.”
They had arrived in separate cars, obviously. I later learned that was Cathy’s idea—in case she wanted to back out, I suppose.
I, in turn, told Cathy to make herself at home.
Marsha and I began kissing, and fondling and I had aimed her toward the upstairs bedroom, bringing her to a halt a couple times to pat that ass of hers. I love the whole process of a woman getting naked—whether I am undressing her, or she is stripping down for me.
In this case, we had both peeled and pulled at each other’s clothing. I had licked Marsha into readiness and she had sucked me into a state of raging arousal. We rolled around a while, I had straddled her prone body at the waist and titty fucked her. I had fucked her for a few minutes missionary style and she rode me, her titties hopping and flopping. But things got truly interesting when I was standing at the foot of the bed, doing her doggie style, both of us watching ourselves in the panel mirrors on the left and the right.
At one point, I had paused in my rump ramming to catch my breath and regain control. There had been a gentle, timid knock on the door and Cathy had peered inside. Marsha had laughed, “Talk about getting caught in flagrante, come on in honey. Dean’s not going to stop—not once he gets going.”
Now, in addition to being a voyeur, I am also an exhibitionist. While I hadn’t stopped my rump ramming, I had indeed slowed down. I think Cathy had come upstairs with the intention of saying goodbye—that she was bailing on us. You see, she had her purse.
But then, she watched us a while. Me, I’m grabbing ass, and giving those cheeks little love smacks and reaching around to grip and grope Marsha’s tits. I didn’t give a shit—I was fucking pussy.
Cathy went to my little wet bar and poured out some liquid courage, mixing herself a gin and tonic.
Me, “Oh that pussy feels so fucking good.”
Marsha, “Oh you’re big in there, baby.”
Cathy had stood by the wet bar, getting some ice from my little refrigerator, and watched.
Without breaking pace, I took a chance and extended a hand toward Cathy, “Come here baby. Come on, it’s okay.”
I had put my arm around her, and Cathy had looked down to view my dick slicking in and out of Marsha’s pussy. She stood—stands—about 5’2” if that. I got a little thrill watching her, watching my cock.
Marsha had bucked against me, “You two can have a fucking tea party back there for all I care, but don’t stop that humping, Dean.”
“Now,” I had told Cathy, “Marsha and I are going to have some fun today, just a little harmless fun. We’re just two consenting adults getting together to frolic for a while. You look like a gal who could use some fun—some of this kind of fun.”
As I continued to pump Marsha’s pussy, I had reached up with both hands to caress Cathy’s face, pulled her to me and kissed her—to my delight, she had kissed back. Then, she had taken a sip of her drink and rubbed a hand over my back—I really wanted her to go all the way down to my ass, but she didn’t.
Marsha had bucked against me a time or two again, “Fuck that pussy, Dean.”
I had touched Cathy’s chin and said, “At least let me see those titties.”
Cathy had then moved to the left side of the bed. Me? I was still fucking Marsha.
Marsha had then fallen onto her elbows, called out, “Okay Dean, show her how a man, how a real man fucks a pussy!”
And I had then launched into a rump ramming, butt banging, pussy pumping frenzy. Marsha has what I call an ample ass—not fat, not skinny. But her cheeks ripple and quake when she is banged from behind. Our bodies had clapped together and I had entered into my zone—I was fucking pussy and I was feeling fine!
Marsha came back up onto her hands and then I was watching Marsha’s tits flop and swing in the mirror, hell they galloped and clapped together as I hammered her hind end. Marsha had grunted like an a****l—yelling at me to get it, to fuck it, to wear it out!
I had told her, “Fuck! Hang in there baby, I’m getting close.”
Then, and I am convinced this was the tipping point for Cathy and the moment that would set the mood for the rest of the day—we were there to buck, fuck and suck and lick down, Marsha had ordered, “Pull out and show what kind of loads you pump out baby. Jack it out onto my ass.”
I was lost in lust, to say the least. I had motioned to Cathy and she had understood and followed through with undoing three or four buttons of her blouse. Parting the material, Cathy had revealed some deep rich cleavage—I would find later that she had a pair of 34 double D-cup sized titties.
As I’m humping and gasping and groaning and staring at Cathy’s cleavage while fucking Marsha’s pussy—well, I think Cathy got a little excited. She pulled off her blouse and bent forward and shook and shimmied those tits and I had pressed deep into Marsha’s pussy, stopping to regain control.
“Take off that fucking bra, turn those titties loose!” I had ordered, consumed with my need.
“Yes, Cathy, show him those boobs. That’ll get him off.”
Well, she had quickly reached back and unsnapped her bra to unleash a fine looking set of hanger bangers, big pear shaped titties.
Marsha, in turn sports a set of gourd shaped hooters, although saggers, they are bulbous, with the nipples aimed down and slightly outward. Cathy’s are splendid looking boobies with the nipples aimed forward—plump titties and ripe looking. When she swung them a little back and forth I couldn’t hold it any longer.
The thought of having two women to fuck throughout the day, getting my dick sucked, my balls licked, making these two married women moan and bark out their pleasure, me getting off on them, at them and inside them sent me to the edge.
I had pulled out and launched a thread of cum across Marsha’s ass and splattered spunk onto the small of her back, left an archipelago of cum on those cheeks.
I had gripped Marsha by the hips, “Come back here you pretty little bitch, I’m not done with that pussy.” I had humped her some more, even felt a few more throbs of pleasure as I enjoyed some more fucking.
Finally, Marsha had fallen forward, laughing, “Son of a bitch!”
We had taken a few minutes to clean ourselves up. When I had come out of the bathroom, Cathy was sitting on the edge of the bed, still in her jeans, but she had left her tits out—I regarded that as a good sign. Cathy had poured more gin into her glass. I grabbed a beer and Marsha poured out a healthy Glenfiddich.
I had then opened up the French doors that led to a small balcony. I heard Cathy ask Marsha, “Damn girl, do ya’ll go at it like that all the time?”
Marsha explained we had just resumed our romping a couple days before, “But with Dean and me, it’s like riding a bike—you never forget how to do it.”
I had taken a sip of beer and said to Cathy, “Honey, you can’t wave a pair of titties like that in front of a man like me without expecting to get them sucked on.”
I had boldly moved toward her, setting down my beer. She had stared at my swinging cock, and said, “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”
I admit to being greedy for pussy—it wasn’t enough to be able to fuck Marsha, I wanted it all! I had taken Cathy’s glass and tipped it to her lips, “Take another sip, baby.” I then handed off Cathy’s glass to Marsha—now my team mate. I had pulled Cathy to a standing position and then began kissing over her face, and shoulders and when I had touched those tits, we both had emitted a little gasp.
For her part, Cathy began to roam her hands over my shoulders and arms and chest. I had reached down and unsnapped her blue jeans; pleased she didn’t protest or push my hands away. We got them down to her hips and then I had gently pushed her back onto the bed, laying her down and then I had peeled off the blue jeans.
“Damn, baby. You’re beautiful,” I had told her. Cathy’s cotton panties were all that was in the way of my access to that pussy. I had pulled Marsha close, squeezed an ass cheek, fondled a titty and kissed her, “Lay down girl, let me get these pussies wet.”
I had then pulled off Cathy’s panties and found a moderately hairy, dark brown bush.
Once more, Cathy said, “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”
Marsha had positioned herself beside Cathy and replied, “Relax honey, you’re in for a treat. Dean is really good at this.”
I did my best to live up to that standard. I spent a lot of time kissing and licking thighs and pussy lips, the clits of both women—moving back and forth over and over. I had luxuriated in the thought of taking care of two married women—getting it done for them.
Cathy had said a time or two, “I can’t remember the last time a man did that to me.”
Soon, the musk of their readiness began to waft around me. Their wanton moaning, lewd writhing—I found myself getting hard again.
The two women rewarded my attention to their pussies by sitting up on the edge of the bed and taking turns sucking on my dick, letting me titty fuck them. I had spent several minutes moving from one woman to the other, back and forth. At this point, Cathy appeared to be pretty primed, randy and ready for some rutting.
Marsha had assumed the role of the dominant female, always verbal, she did some coaching, “That feel good Dean? Oh yes Cathy, lick those big balls, he likes getting his balls licked down.”
Now, I at this point I had only met Marsha’s husband a time or two. Marsha offered up the usual complaints—I suppose as a rationalization for fucking other men. I, of course, had never met Cathy’s husband—but her earlier litany of objections also had led her to wander off the home camp for some strange dick.
I remember feeling that lustful, perverse sense of sexual pride—here I was sticking my cock in the mouths of--in between the titties of--the women of two other men. Marsha had already spread her legs for me, stuck her ass up in the air for me. And, I had no doubt that Cathy was going to do the same for me throughout the day—that I was going to cum at, on and inside these two lusty women.
They had sucked me and licked me and titty fucked me to the edge a number of times, and finally, unable to hold off any longer, I had pulled my dick free from Cathy’s mouth, cupped her flushed face up and leered over her body, “I need pussy, I need to fuck that pussy.”
Marsha had crawled up on her knees and told Cathy, “Get ready, Cathy. Dean is in his zone baby. Get ready for a hard driving fuck, honey.”
Cathy had moved further up on the bed, her titties had lolled around—to wit I had uttered a feral, “Oh fuck, look at those fucking titties.” She had spread her legs for me and I maneuvered between them, stood up on my knees and leered at the sight. Cathy had stared through hooded eyes at me jacking on my dick.
I had looked over to Marsha, jacked to her as well. I had reached for her, pulling her to me. I had kissed Marsha while grabbing and smacking her ass.
“Look at you two big boobed beauties—all out there in your naked glory.”
I had reached under Cathy’s thighs, wrapped my arms around them and pulled her closer—she had emitted a little bark of joy, “Come here you. Let me in that pussy.”
Cathy had breathed out, her voice husky, “Oh Marsha look at him, look at how worked up he is.”
Then, Cathy had reached for me, “Oh yes, fuck me.” I had moaned, and smiled. Glad she was getting into the spirit of our fuck party.
As I’ve often said, a woman can suck you off to completion, hand job you to that wonderful eruption of spunk; you can use her titties to jack your dick and you can cum splatter those tits, her face, her ass, her tummy. But until you stick your cock inside a woman’s pussy—well, you haven’t really fucked her.
I had aimed my cock at her pussy lips and pressed slowly in—we both had gasped when I slid inside her, “Oh fuck,” I had called out.
Cathy had arched her back a bit and said, “Oh shit, you fill me up in there.”
I had stayed upright for a while, sitting on my ankles, fucking her pussy. I had alternated my gaze from my cock moving back and forth, looked across her abdomen and up to her titties and on to Cathy’s flushed face, slack mouth, half shuttered eyes. And then I had looked over to Marsha who was then sitting back on her ankles as well, rubbing her clit.
Then, I had moved up and loomed over Cathy, looking down onto the full length of that plush body, telling her how beautiful she looked. I had spaced out on top of that sex-warmed body. Hence I arrive at that exquisite moment with which I began this entry: me on top of Cindy, humping away and Marsha brushing my back and ass and thighs with her titties, while reminding me she wanted some of my cock action as well.
I love doing a woman missionary style—all that body on body contact. And as I’m humping and pumping I got to the edge half a dozen times; I had grabbed her ass, jiggled her jugs, kissed her and moaned and groaned as I fucked her with abandon. Then, I had moved my arms beneath her and gripped her shoulders and tried my damnedest to give her the best fuck—in Marsha’s words—the best hard driving fuck Cathy had ever had.
Marsha had coached, “Oh yes, nail that woman’s ass down! Fuck that damn pussy!”
Our bodies had clapped and smacked together, and Cathy’s ass bounced and her titties bobbled around and she moaned and emitted a high keen as her fingernails dug into my back and she climaxed, “Oh shit! Oh fuck! That’s good cock! Fuck it, fuck it fuck it!”
I had laid there on top of Cathy for a time, catching my breath. Then, I had risen up a little, still pumping Cindy and looked over to Marsha, “Lay down and spread those legs woman. I’m coming for your pussy next.”
As I had pulled free of Cathy, I had bent down to kiss her, “Damn baby. That was one fine fuck.”
“Oh shit, Dean—I haven’t had a man make me cum like that in years.”
Obviously, this just sent me deeper into that well of lust and desire and sexual need. I had loomed over Marsha at that point, jacking on my dick, proud of my cock, “These pussies are mine today—mine to fuck. Mine!”
Marsha had run her hands up and down my sides as my dickhead pressed against her pussy lips, “Oh baby, you’re the pussy fucker today. You’re the man, baby, get in there and get it done.”
Cathy had appeared a bit dazed but after a couple minutes or so, as I am fucking Marsha at that sweet, slow, pleasure giving lovemaking pace, Cathy had sat up and began roaming over my back and ass and thighs with her hands and titties, kissing my back, kissing my ass cheeks.
“That feel good baby?” I had asked a few times. Even though she liked to fuck around, this day Marsha was my fuck.
“Oh Dean, honey, how could I forget what a good fucker you are. Oh shit, that feels so fucking good. Keep pumping me, baby. I am so glad we bumped into each other the other day. So, you could do this to me.”
I began to pick up the pace until I was, as I had with Cindy a few minutes before, nailing Marsha’s ass to that fucking bed.
Cathy had continued to treat me to her gentle touch—tits and fingers and lips, “Oh you two look so good fucking.”
Abruptly, Marsha had gripped my ass with both hands, dug in her fingernails and yelped, “Fuck! Bear down baby! Oh shit!”
Marsha’s body had gone limp, she had sighed, “Oh baby, you did it again.”
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” I had said and pulled free, still consumed with lust. “Both of you, fuck! Look what you do to my dick!”
After I had pulled out and stood up on my knees, I had reached for Cathy and she had turned to face me fully, her standing up on her knees as well, giving me full access to that lush body. I had grabbed and groped at Cathy—patting her ass, sucking on her titties, burying my face into their plush, pillow softness.
Marsha had sat up and leveled her legs over the edge of the bed. She had begun to rub over my thighs, and then took my cock in hand, “Our man needs to cum. You ready to cum, baby?”
“Oh fuck yes, I need to cum. Want to cum in a pussy! Need to cum in a pussy!”
I had maneuvered Cathy, “Get on your hands and knees, baby, aim that ass my way.”
Then, I had aimed my cock at her pussy, slid in and smiled at Cathy’s gasp and once more as she had breathed out those sweet words, “Fuck, that’s big in there.”
Marsha had stood up and positioned herself behind me, on my left hand side and rubbed her titties over my arm, “Told you Cathy. I knew you would like that cock.” Marsha had pressed her tits against my back, rubbing her right hand over my ass as I humped away at Cathy. Marsha and reached around with her left hand and rubbed softly over my chest.
I had patted Cathy’s ass and reached down and around to fondle and feel her titties, “Oh look at that baby, look at you in that mirror. Look at your titties hanging down, your ass in the air—oh you look so damned good getting fucked.”
Cathy had kept moaning, “Oh fuck that feels so good.” And I had continued to happily hump away. That pussy had felt so wonderful, those titties had looked so lovely as they swung around, that ass—of fuck, that ass was a dream.
At one point, as I was getting close, I had looked down to view my cock slicking in and out of her pussy, Marsha’s left hand was still rubbing over my chest. I noticed her engagement and wedding rings. I had looked slightly to Cathy’s left and noticed her rings. I had then looked at the three of us reflected in the mirror—hubby’s rings on their fingers, but my cock that was getting in their pussies—I felt so fucking fine, felt so fine fucking!
Suddenly, the surge began, “Oh damn! Oh shit! Gonna cum. Oh you’re my bitches today! You’re my bitches! Mine!”
“Oh, yes!” Cathy had called out, bumping against me, “Fuck it! Cum in there! Get it done, baby. I’m your bitch, baby.”
Marsha had patted my ass and said, “Oh Dean, look at you fucking that woman. Oh baby, you’re taking care of two women today—you’re the pussy fucker today, baby. You’re such a man.”
Well, that ego stroking tipped me over the edge and I had cum hard, I was so fucking worked up—I shot it into Cathy’s pussy and growled out in triumph—my spunk in the pussy of another man’s woman. I felt so strong, so proud of my load, proud of my cock.
“Damn baby,” Marsha had slapped my ass and moved over to retrieve her drink. I had pulled free of Cathy’s pussy and she had fallen forward, huffing, “Oh fuck!”
We had taken a few minutes to clean up; the girls taking care of their pussies, me wiping down and toweling off my dick.
The next fuck was another great one. The two women had gone downstairs to grab some snacks. I had opened a fresh beer and climbed into bed, positioning myself against the headboard. The women had returned in due course—bearing fruit, crackers, various spreads, and drinks. They climbed onto the bed on either side of me, tits swinging and wobbling around.
The two women chatted and chatted and chatted some more. They ate and drank with lusty fervor and I sat in between them, looking from one body to the other and back again. For my part, I was rubbing along their thighs—on occasion touching a titty or two.
And the women continued to chat about their mutual friends—and they continued to eat. Finally, sated on food, Cathy got up to the wet bar to freshen both her and Marsha’s drinks. Me, I then had reached for Marsha. I pulled her down beside me, “Oh baby, oh Dean honey, you ready to get worked up again?”
I had roamed my hands, mouth and cock all over that woman’s body. I had sucked on her nipples, moved down to kiss her clit, rolled her over and licked and kissed her ass. I could hear Cathy behind me, sipping her drink, watching. Then, I heard her glass being set down and she had climbed into bed with us. I next felt her hands and tits and tongue running over my back and shoulders and ass.
I rolled around and proceeded to enjoy Cathy’s body—kissing, touching, cock stroking over her while Marsha pressed against my back. I had felt as if every nerve ending in my body was firing—the pleasure center of my brain was overloaded.
My cock was so hard, and each time one of the women would touch it, or I would brush against them I was afraid of shooting out my spunk.
Marsha had, at one point, gently pushed me on to my back. They had then proceeded to give a fine round of tit rubbing, taking turns sucking my dick, hand jobbing, titty fucking me. Wonderful. Absolutely, fucking wonderful.
And, dear ready, if you haven’t had two women taking turns sucking your dick, taking turns titty fucking you, hand jobbing you—then you haven’t lived my friend. And these two really got into it—Marsha doing the directing, really being the naughty alpha girl, “Oh yes, Cathy, lick those balls, yeah, gets those titties all over that dick, jack him slow,” And so on.
Finally, Marsha had rubbed her hooters across my face one last time, “Lay back, baby. You’re going to be our tool.”
And, these two had taken turns riding my cock. Switching off three times each, it was fantastic. They had ridden to climax on the third go. For my part, my hands were everywhere I could reach—ass, tits, thighs, faces, arms.
Each time while one of the women was riding me, the other one had leveled her titties over my face. Sweet.
But it was the third round, when Marsha was working her clit hard against me, that she had whooped and hollered and climaxed like a wanton vixen. I had briefly wondered just how many men this woman was fucking—her husband, Mark, me. Who else? This woman liked to fuck! Simple as that!
But, I was proud that morning—being the big dick in the room, tending to two pussies. Then, they had sweetly jacked me off to completion—again taking turns, kissing me, rubbing over me, and letting me suck and kiss and nuzzle into their titties. Jism had erupted from my cock to the approving coos and caws of the two women, the man mess was impressive.
As I had climaxed, I had shouted out, “Oh my bitches! My fucking bitches! You’re fucking beautiful!”
As the spunk oozed and throbbed out of me, Catchy still jacking on my dick, I had looked down the length of my body to survey the scene. Then, I had laid my head back—spent—and my hands lovingly down their backs and grabbed and patted an ass cheek of each woman.
“Damn, you girls know how to get it out of me.”
Marsha had then bent forward and begun to rub her titties over my cock, abdomen and thighs, “Oh Dean, baby, you’re the rocket man. Shit, look at all that.”
Marsha had then taken the rag and towel to my dick. The women had climbed out of bed to once more attend to their pussies. I got out of bed and took my beer downstairs.
Half an hour later, we were sitting in the hot tub. The women had resumed their steady pace of chatter. And Cathy was getting a little tipsy—and frisky. She was turning out to be a nice little playmate. Marsha was still belting back the scotch.
Plus, I had gotten in three good fucks—and it wasn’t even noon. We fucked once in the hot tub, or more accurately at the edge. Now, for that go at the women, it took a while for me to get “camera ready” as they say in porn flicks. I had pulled Marsha close, kissed over her face and shoulders, played with her titties, her ass—enjoying her hands roaming over me. Then, I had moved to Cathy to cop a good feel, back to Marsha, back to Cathy. Admittedly, the only thing better than having a naked, big titter in your Jacuzzi, is having two naked, big titters.
I had told the women to sit on the edge and I had spent some time licking the pussy of each woman, back and forth, back and forth. They had rewarded me, by taking turns at sucking my dick and licking my balls.
Once I was fully pronged out, the women had positioned themselves so I could do a nice side-by-side round of fucking—banging the butt of one woman, then pulling free and rump ramming the other, back and forth, back and forth.
I had lost control and climaxed, shot off into Marsha’s pussy—but it felt so fucking good. Shortly afterwards, the women pronounced themselves hungry, famished. I had ordered from my favorite pizzeria—two craft pizzas, wings, Greek salads and so on.
We had gone inside to await our food. Cathy was concerned over her tan lines—didn’t want hubby to get suspicious. I had donned some gym shorts and the girls put on their panties but left their tits out. Little Rocky had delivered our meal—I’ve been told that there is some competition when it comes to bringing food to me. And Little Rocky did his best to look over my shoulder as I signed the ticket and tipped him.
During the meal, Cathy’s husband had called—a little argument had ensued. One of Marsha’s k**s—one that doesn’t live with her--had called as well.
When the food arrived, we had feasted with fervor. And, the women had again picked up their chatter. I had gone onto the patio to take a couple of calls. My maintenance crew was finishing up a project on one of my commercial properties. My bed buddy Stella had called as well from one of her dress shops—wondering if we were going out that night. I had faked an excuse—telling her I was unsure, as I might have to entertain a couple of prospective buyers that night, but would let her know ASAP.
The women then came out onto the deck. Cathy was in her bra and panties and was rubbing sunscreen on her body. Marsha was in her panties. They had lain out on the loungers, both with fresh drinks.
Somewhat to my disappointment, Cathy dozed off. Well fed, boozed up and I would like to think finely fucked, she was tired.
Marsha and I talked awhile. It seems that at some point our friend Mark had texted her, asking if she was available to party down. Marsha told me she had replied she couldn’t today, had to work. I was relieved she had not invited him to join us—I did not want to share these pussies.
I maneuvered myself at the end of the loungers, and had then worked my way, my tongue and lips along her legs, beginning with her shins and then to the thighs. Her spreading so nicely to welcome me, I had finally made my way to her pussy—after making her beg for it. I had teased her, gently flicked my tongue over her lips and clit, but going back and forth to each thigh, licking and nibbling.
At this point, I heard Cathy’s phone buzz and she had sat up, cursing lightly, “Shit! It’s my husband again. I think is already getting drunk.” She had stood and walked into my townhome. I had risen up and began jerking off to the sight of her wagging ass.
Then, I had stood and looked over the big tittied, wide hipped tableau of Marsha’s body. Her knees raised, thighs winged out—a woman ripe and ready for some fucking.
“Damn, Dean.”
Now, as I’ve mentioned a number of times elsewhere, I love getting naked and fucking outdoors. I feel so free and unencumbered. And that afternoon I felt so fucking wonderful. My deck is a superb place for such fun and frolic. Old, fully foliaged trees line the walkway that hugs the back of this series of townhomes, obscuring any view across the small park.
In Houston, we enjoy—or suffer through—warm weather well into the fall. The sun had warmed my shoulders, back and ass. I had climbed up on the lounger, unceremoniously spaced out on top of her, and stuck my cock up inside Marsha’s pussy. I had luxuriated in the fact that could just fuck and fuck and fuck these women at will.
“You’re my little slut today.”
“Oh yes, Dean, I’m you’re fuck today. Get after it, fuck that pussy like you own it.”
I am sure, with her body and her usual eagerness to get naked and get it on that she was hopping around between other men. Don’t misunderstand me, I wasn’t jealous, but my male pride urged me to do my best to move up to the top of her list of bed buddies.
So, I again launched into a piston pumping fuck.
“I’m gonna nail down that fucking ass of yours, baby.”
The lounger began to groan and I reveled in the guttural grunts that Marsha emitted with each of my down thrusts onto her, into her pussy. Cathy came back out and I had glanced up just in time to see her stagger slightly—little bitch was getting drunk.
Cathy had moved close and as I’m bearing down on Marsha, I hear Cathy taking a drink, the ice had clinked, “Oh look what I’m missing out on.”
I had growled out, in my zone, “Yeah, little woman, get over there and lay down. I’m coming after your pussy next.”
But Marsha had dug her nails into my ass cheeks, “No don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop. Keep fucking, I’m fucking close.”
Then, I had another primal thought—here I was, getting to use these two women, other men’s wives, to get my pleasure, just fuck them and fuck them, getting my dick sucked by them, cuming on their titties and asses, licking their pussies, making them moan like whores.
As Marsha climaxed, it took a monumental amount of self-control for me not to shoot off as well. Marsha had grunted and cursed and bucked up against me. And, then her body had gone limp and she had exhaled, “Oh, you son of a bitch! Fuck, Dean!”
She had moved her hands over my back and ass and thighs, “Oh baby, you didn’t cum did you? Your turn.”
I had pulled out and climbed off her and leered over at Cathy who was sipping her drink, messaging her clit and watching us. I had jacked on my dick and said, “That’s okay, baby. I have some fucking over here to do.”
As I did with Marsha, I took my time licking and kissing and tongue fucking Cathy’s pussy. I heard Marsha stand and go into the townhouse. Birds chirped, the wind hissed and shushed through the leaves of the trees and Cathy moaned.
After a few minutes of this attention, Cathy had lifted up my head and looked down at me through the valley made between her tits, “Fuck me, Dean. Climb on up here and fuck me.”
But unlike my immediately preceding fuck with Marsha, I had taken my time with Cathy. I made love to her. I kissed her lips, face, neck, shoulders and her plump titties. I told her repeatedly how beautiful she was, how lovely she looked in the throes of passion. I told her how wonderful she felt. It was indeed, all true.
Cathy in turn had whispered and gasped, “Oh you’re so good at this, such a strong lover. Oh I love that dick of yours.”
In many ways, it was, all in all, one of the best rounds of the day for me. I made it last.
Marsha had come back out, talking on her phone. She had run a hand down my back, patted my ass and then gone to sit in the hot tub.
I had then pulled up and told Cathy, “Oh sweetness, roll over and lift up that ass. Let me look at that oh so gorgeous ass as I fuck your sweet pussy.”
And I had indeed enjoyed looking at that rich looking, broad bottom. Again, I had taken my time, savoring that body, those hanging titties, patting and gripping those cheeks, pushing in and out of that pussy.
While Marsha was—is--a very good fuck, there was something about Cathy that I really, really liked. As I mentioned, Marsha’s titties were great looking saggers, Cathy’s tits were plump, pear shaped beauties. Both women are short, lush bodied. But Cathy had-has--a true hourglass figure.
I had been there, kneeling at Cathy’s ass, pumping her pussy, gripping her hips, loving the feeling of pure hedonistic delight—fucking and fucking and fucking. Cathy was repeatedly sighing and gasping, telling me, “Oh yes, I love it, I love it, oh keep fucking baby, keep fucking me.”
I had pulled out again, and told her to roll over once more onto her back. Cathy had lifted up her legs, stretched her arms out for me and I had leered down at this wanton woman. I had spread out on top of her, and slipped inside of her, surrendering completely to that splendid feel of fucking. I had resumed my pussy pumping.
I remember those sweet words as Cathy’s breathing became labored, “Oh Dean, oh honey, bear down a bit more. Oh please fuck me hard, I’m getting close.”
I love hearing and watching a woman climax—especially if I’m involved. And Cathy’s climax that time was a delicious thing to experience from my perspective.
Then, her entire body had spasmed and Cathy had yelled out, “Fuck me! Faster! Oh shit!”
I had made a mental note to tell my bed buddy Stella just how much she scratched my back when we were fucking—I was certain both Marsha and Cathy had left some tell-tale evidence.
“That sounded like it felt good, baby.”
“Oh shit, that was incredible. Your turn honey.”
“I need some titty baby, I need to cum on those titties.”
“Oh I love watching you cum, Dean. It takes you over completely. Come on up here and get yourself some titty.”
And I had gotten myself some titty. I had moved up and straddled her at the waist and gathered up Cathy’s titties. After reaching down and picking up a bottle of sunscreen, I had slicked up her big beauties. Then, I had slipped in between them and rocked back and forth for a quite a while, loving that tit flesh hugging my cock. Periodically, Cathy, who was gripping my ass throughout that titty fuck, would pull me closer to her face and she would suck my dick for a moment or two—then, I would move back to the tits. To say the least, it was wonderful.
When I climaxed, it shot out and I had gasped and Cathy had urged me on, “Oh sweetie, look at you go, yes, put it all out there.”
Cathy had come a long way within these few hours—from a nervous, shy woman to wanton little fuck.
I then jacked out my load, a thread had made its way up and spunk had pooled in the hollow of her throat. Then, I had pumped it out, speckling those titties with my jism. For a few moments, I had gazed over those sweet feeling, lovely looking, cum glazed mounds that had offered me such prurient joy. I was fairly certain that since Marsha and I had resumed our rutting that Wednesday afternoon that I would get to fuck her again in the future. I was less certain of being able to do so Cathy.
Well, the three of us had played in the hot tub for a while. I knew both women would have to leave my place no later than five o’clock—they were slated to meet their husbands at a local pub for dinner and drinks. So, I was determined to get in as much titty togging, pussy pumping, ass grabbing fun as I could—especially with Cathy.
However, because of all our sexual exertions and the booze, it took a long while for the three of us to get me hard and ready for more fuck action. But I had enjoyed so much the feel of two different sets of hands roaming all over me, jacking on my dick, fondling my ass beneath the water, pulling me out of the water to sit on edge to feel two different sets of lips and tongue working on me. I had enjoyed roaming my hands over two different sets of titties, asses, fingering up into two different pussies.
Once worked up, it had taken me a long to time achieve climax. The ladies had attributed that to my staying power—at least that’s what they said. Nevertheless, my cock had stayed true to its task—faithful old soldier that it is—and they had enjoyed some “long time” fucking.
My own climax—while less intense that the previous ones, was nevertheless a nice one—I had pumped it into Marsha’s pussy, banging her from behind.
The angle of the sun began to aim more light and heat on my deck so we had gone upstairs to roll around in bed again. Once more, they had sandwiched me between their bodies, me taking turns fucking one woman missionary style, the other tit rubbing me, fondling my balls and stroking over my back, switching women a couple of times. Again, it had taken a long time to get hard and, longer, to get off.
They were very patient with me and when I finally did get hard, they had sweetly done another side-by-side. Yes, on their hands and knees, at the edge of the bed, I had stuck cock in one pussy, fucked it while, then moved over the other women—back and forth, back and forth.
Even though I knew it all was coming to an end—pardon the pun—I had looked out through the open French doors, onto the warm, Houston autumn day, the bright light, the fresh breeze and I felt like the king of all pussy fuckers.
At that critical moment, I had pulled out of Cathy’s pussy and told both women to get on their knees and bunch up of those big beauties. I had shot out a load, not huge, but given the amount of jism I had jacked out throughout the day, I had enough to spot and sprinkle both sets of titties with some of it.
My final climax with these two women was in the shower.
Exhausted, sore, and truly “fucked out” I had gone out onto my deck after they had left and pondered, reflected over, the day. I was, admittedly, a little drunk. Stella had texted three times during the day to ask about our plans for the evening—after she had closed up her dress shop in the Rice Village area of Houston. I was not about to get behind the wheel of a car, and had no inclination about cleaning up my townhouse.
Stella, I knew if she came over, would figure out I had been fucking someone during the afternoon—so I used the excuse that I had to entertain a couple of prospective buyers of one of my properties. I had promised to take to her out to brunch the next morning. To wit, she had replied—I could almost feel the vitriol of her reply, “We’ll see.”
Around eight o’clock or so, I received a text from Marsha. Marsha wrote that she was “on a potty break” at the restaurant. Told me that her and Cathy’s hubby drunk. I hadn’t realized they were all going out to dinner together!
A little while later, Marsha had texted again, “Walking around bowlegged because of you, you dirty old man.”
Still later, Marsha texted, “Cathy gives you rave reviews.”
I admit, that I went to bed a little early that night, at least for me.
The next morning, Stella and I did meet for brunch. She was a little miffed at me, not entirely convinced of my excuse the night before—and when Stella had suggested we go to my place, I had used another standard excuse that my son, his girlfriend and some friends had used my place for a hot tub party the night before and had crashed there.
It wasn’t until we were walking to our respective cars that Stella had invited me over to her place for a frolic—her desire to get fucked overcoming her frustration with me. As we were cuddling after our first round of climaxing, I had received another text from Marsha. It read, “C wants more. Afraid hubby will find your # on her cell. C will buy a pre-paid phone—can I give her ur #?’
Well, you can imagine what I replied.
However, as I post this missive, I do so just as Cathy’s car is pulling away from the curb—yes, she just left my place after an afternoon of play time.
I think I might have found a new bed buddy!
AFTERWORD: As a final note, as of this posting, I’ve been with Marsha once more since that fantastic threesome experience. She and I spent a Wednesday together. It was a nice day, we were very relaxed around each other and of course the sex was rowdy and raucous, whooping and hollering and being vulgar—we had fucked with abandon.
But I have no illusions. She will never be a steady fuck for me. Marsha is just too horny to spread those legs for only one man or two. After my most recent go at Marsha, I had met Mark for a beer one afternoon and he told that Marsha had relayed to him my threesome experience. And yes, Marsha and he were also getting after it. Mark was also fairly certain she was fucking another man, married, named Roger who hung out in one of our local bars. So, including her husband, Marsha was—is—spreading it around quite liberally.
As for Cathy, we’ve been together three times since that threesome. And, this little affair comes none too soon. My married bed buddy, Helen, the one with the Hindenburg hooters, has really been reined in by her asshole of a husband, John. And my other bed buddy, Stella, is often upset with me—telling me that I’m like Charlie Sheen in Two and a Haft Men, except without the money and beach house in Malibu. She periodically cuts me off and that simply drives me nuts.
I met Cathy’s husband Clint one night at a local pub. It was one of those periods of time when Stella and I were getting along and she had met me there for a drink before going to my place to fuck.
Marsha and Clint asked us to join them and I had the surrealistic sensation—I was sitting at a table where I have fucked all three women. Clint and Joe, for that matter, were “in their cups” having again spent the day golfing and boozing it up. I left that evening feeling much less guilty about fucking their women.
Sometime later that evening, as I had rolled off Stella—sated on sex for the moment—she had cuddled up to me and asked, “So which of those two women tonight have you fucked?”
Well, I had negotiated my way through that proverbial landmine, but as of today, Stella is in another of her “legs clamped shut” moods.
It is now the day before Thanksgiving around 5:30 in the afternoon. Cathy just left my place about fifteen minutes ago. A day of marathon fucking! And yes, I believe I have found a new bed buddy. It’s always a good sign when your bed buddy initiates the rendezvous.
The final fuck today, Cathy was on her hands and knees—it had been a round robin session of fucking—missionary, cowgirl, 69, reverse cowgirl, cock sucking, pussy licking, titty fucking, hand jobbing, wonderful.
And Cathy had said to me, ordered really, “I need to feel you cum inside me, Dean. I love the way you go wild back there.”
And, I had accommodated her nicely—if I do say so myself. I had hammered it home, piston fucked her and turned that un-tanned territory of her ass bright pink as my body had rammed against her again and again and again.
A little while later, after she had showered and dressed, we had kissed long and hard, me cherishing this pleasure giving woman.
And, wow, she has been gone only fifteen, twenty minutes now and I receive a text from her, “Miss you already.”
Yes, I have indeed found a new fuck buddy!
11 years ago
