PART ONE
Wife, mother, career woman, suburban homemaker -- that's me. Nothing out
of the ordinary in my life -- or so I thought. Happily married to Phil for nine
years, and the mother of charming, brilliant, adorable, 6-year-old Bobby, I was
comfortable with my role and responsibilities. I guess that's why finding Phil's
"secret" was such a shock to my system. Let me tell you about it: ...... It was
a beautiful Spring Friday and Phil had volunteered to help chaperon Bobby's
nursery school class on the trip to the zoo. I volunteered to stay home from the
office, too, and do the laundry and fill some "Goodwill" bags so we could go to
my Mother's ocean condo for the weekend. (My second reason for staying home was
a lot more devious. I thought that if I could get rid of a lot of Phil's old
clothes, my frugal C.P.A. husband would be forced to go out and buy some things
that had been made at least since Reagan was president!) The closet took longer
than I thought it would, but resulted in a big pile of old clothes. Then I moved
over to Phil's chest of drawers. The top drawer yielded more than a few pairs of
old socks that I knew didn't reach Phil's ankles. The next drawer turned up
underwear that Phil had owned when we got married -- onto the pile they went!
The third drawer was a mishmash of sweaters, t-shirts, and sweatshirts. As I
emptied it, a flash of color in the bottom caught my eyes. When I looked closer,
I saw it was a thin pile of photographs obviously cut from magazines, tucked
under the liner paper. I lifted them out and was shocked to see that they were
erotic! I was so surprised because I had never seen Phil even glance at a
PLAYBOY and here were pictures of men and women blatantly having sex -- and in
positions too numerous to count! I didn't even know they sold stuff as graphic
as this. I guess my biggest surprise was that Phil felt compelled to hide them
like a 13-year-old boy. I was pretty liberal, and it wouldn't have bothered me
in the least if he wanted to buy magazines like this -- as long as he didn't
leave them out for Bobby to find. And then I realized that maybe Phil WAS hiding
them from Bobby, and not me. There were about thirty pages and the theme was the
same on each -- one woman with several men. The woman in each picture was being,
or was about to be, or had just been penetrated by the men's large penises. One
photo showed the woman literally being showered by six ejaculating cocks! I had
to admit, the pictures were sexy and mildly titillating because they were so
graphic, but they really didn't turn me on (and, in fact, one or two of them I
even considered gross). But, the more I examined the photos, the more I realized
I had been wrong -- Phil WAS hiding them from me. Like a zap of lightning, I
realized there was another consistent feature in the photos -- every single
woman in the numerous photos was blonde, blue-eyed, and had large breasts --
just like me! Was Phil fantasizing it was ME in the pictures? That thought was
more than a little bizarre. I put the photos down and examined the drawer again,
and that's when I found something that DID turn me on, and more than a little.
In the very bottom of the drawer, carefully wrapped in a t- shirt, were two
pages from a men's magazine, but there were no pictures. Each preserved between
two stiff, shiny sheets of clear laminate plastic, the two pages showed their
age and heavy use before laminating. A couple of corners were missing, the edges
were ragged and torn, and, before being laminated, they had been folded and
opened and refolded until the "X" of the center fold was a small hole in the
center of each page. I couldn't imagine how old the pages were or how many times
the two pages had been read. I sat back on our bed and read them to myself for
the first time: ...... THIS MONTH'S EDITOR'S CHOICE... Dear Editors, My wife and
I are both in our early thirties, and although she obviously wasn't a virgin
when I married her, her claim is that I'm the only man in her life. I didn't
really care who she had fucked, or how many, or what she said about me being the
"only man she's ever really loved" because I had screwed around, too, and with
at least two other women before we were married. But after eleven years of
married life, things had gotten pretty dull for me. I just knew that a lot of
our friends were probably into casual wife-swapping and I suggested to the wife
that we try to join them for a party or two - just to see what's going on. I
kept at it, but she whined and said she didn't want to. She said she loved me,
and was a married woman and would feel like a cheap slut screwing another man.
She went on to say she would be worried about how she'd feel about screwing a
friend or a friend's husband, her guilt, the gossip, blah, blah, blah. I got
tired listening. Since I couldn't persuade her to go along with my idea, and she
sure as hell didn't tell me to go out and party without her, I decided to see if
I could spice up our sex-life by arranging some excitement. Maybe if some
spur-of-the-moment fucking took place, then she'd see my swinging idea was a
good one. The first time I tried something was over five years ago, with an
out-of-town salesman I met in a bar after work. He was a big, muscular guy,
sitting next to me at the bar and bitching about the lack of pussy in the place.
After a few beers, on impulse, I showed him some pictures of my wife in a
bikini, and as he was drooling all over them, I asked him if he'd like to do me
a favor. I told him that my wife was a little kinky and liked some fresh meat
every now and then, and that, occasionally, we invited a friend in to help her
out, and that I liked him enough to invite him to join us for some fun. He
agreed in a flash, the horny bastard. As I drove him to our house, I told him
not to take "no" for an answer from her, that she was a real cockteaser and that
it was just part of her hard-to-get game. I told him that for her, "being taken"
by a real man was her hottest turn-on. This guy was going nuts listening to my
bullshit, almost nodding his stupid head off. When we got home, I was glad to
see that my wife still had her work clothes on. She works in a big office and
dresses pretty nice each day. She looked real good in her fancy white blouse,
tight skirt and high heels. I introduced the salesman to my wife as my long-lost
Army buddy who was just passing through town. We fed her some bullshit story
about how he saved my life in a barroom brawl and how I could never repay him
for it. We all had a few drinks before and after dinner, and the guy definitely
liked what he saw and was getting friendlier with her as we took turns dancing
with her after dinner. After an hour or so, I was making another round of drinks
in the kitchen when I heard some noise from the family room. I peeked into the
room and saw that the guy had my wife pinned up against the wall. She was
struggling against him as he was kissing her hard on the mouth and he had his
hand shoved up under her skirt. She managed to push away from him when I entered
the room, and I was heartened to see that things just might get pretty
interesting. Figuring they would get nowhere with me around, I told them that I
had just killed the Scotch and that I would run out for more. I said that being
so far out in the country, it would take me about forty-five minutes. My wife
said she wanted to go to the store so I could stay and talk to my buddy, but I
grabbed my keys and left. I was gone close to an hour. I figured by the time I
got home, things would be warmed up and I'd join in the fun. But, when I got
home, I found them sitting at opposite ends of the sofa, watching TV and
talking. I was a little disappointed because I couldn't tell if anything had
happened - and it didn't look like anything had. Later, when I drove the guy
back to his motel, the asshole told me that my wife had really resisted him for
a while, turning him on more and more, getting him into her game. He said to
screw her, he finally had to pin her down on the floor and rip her panties to
get his dick in. He said after he came, he yanked her skirt and blouse and bra
off and told her he wouldn't give them back until she blew him. He said he was
just zipping up and she was still swallowing his cum and buttoning her blouse as
I pulled into the driveway. It was good to hear that something happened and even
if I didn't get my shot, I was encouraged that I could set up some fun things
and maybe get her into the mood to spread her precious pussy around a little.
When I got home, I tried to pry some information from her about what happened
with my "Army buddy" while I was gone, but she just said he was a jerk and never
mentioned a thing about her fucking and blowing him, and she still refused to
consider swinging. Nothing else happened until a few months later, when we went
on our summer vacation. We stayed in a nice motel and met three other couples
staying there. During the week, we went golfing and to the beach with them, and
I noticed the hot looks the guys were giving my wife and her big tits, even in
her conservative bathing suits. On the last night together, the eight of us
closed the bar and went back to one of the rooms to continue the party. There
was a lot of kissie-feelie going on and I thought something might soon develop -
maybe even a wild orgy and I'd finally get my ashes hauled by some new pussy -
even if none of the other wives was in my wife's class for looks and body. But
we never got beyond the little kisses and the party began to crap out. Some
people wanted to crash and some others wanted to go eat at the all-night diner.
After we all split up, there was me, my wife, and another guy in the room. This
guy had been ogling my wife all week and that night had been trying to grab her
tits every chance he got. When my wife went into the bathroom, I told the guy I
was going back to our room for some sleep. When I stepped outside, I heard him
lock the door behind me. I stepped to the windows, peeked through the blinds I
had left partially opened, and waited to see what would happen. My wife came out
of the bathroom and asked the man where I went. He told her I went for ice and
that she should wait there for my return. Then he stepped up to her and kissed
her hard on the lips. At the same time, he swiftly unzipped her sexy sundress
all the way down her front. She started to pull away, and as she did, he grabbed
at her bra strap and ripped the cup off her left tit. Then he shoved her down on
the bed and began to suck her naked tit. As she struggled under him, he somehow
managed to open up her dress and began to pull her panties down. At this point,
she really began to put up a fight, and I almost went to the door, but something
inside of me stopped me. I couldn't pull myself away from watching the whole
incredible, arousing, hot scene. My wife -- fucking around with a stranger! And
I had a front-row seat! The guy rolled my wife over onto her stomach, pulled her
dress down off her other shoulder and unhooked her bra. After he slid her
panties off her long legs, he dropped his pants and shorts and climbed on the
bed, too. My wife was still trying to fend him off, but it looked like she had
lost a lot of her fight. After struggling with my wife a little more and holding
her hands to the bed, above her head, the guy finally got between her legs and
got his good-sized cock in her and rammed it into her to the hilt. I suddenly
realized that I had one of the hardest and biggest erections in my life! I was
really enjoying watching this! The guy continued to fuck my wife for at least
another ten minutes, until he came inside her with a big grunt. He finally
climbed off her and walked into the bathroom and cleaned his cock. My wife laid
there, on the bed, gasping and panting, her legs spread wide apart, her hands
still above her head. When the guy walked back into the bedroom, he made another
drink and walked over to the bed. As he stood there, looking down at my wife,
she raised herself up on her elbow, took hold of his soft prick in her hand, and
gently guided it into her mouth! She began to suck him off, first slowly, and
then more and more wildly. She sucked him for about five minutes, until he
pulled away with another huge erection. He then climbed back on the bed, and I
watched as my wife guided his hard cock up her already-filled cunt. While they
were screwing, I heard the couple who's room it was coming up the steps. I
ducked around the corner to get out of sight and was surprised to see that the
drapes on the sliding door on the beach side were wide open. I stepped into the
shadows to watch from my new front-row seat. The first guy and my wife didn't
stop screwing when the couple opened the door. The wife said she didn't like
what was going on in their room and her husband told her to go back down to the
diner ("In case it gets ugly," he said) and he would get rid of the screwing
couple. The wife was barely out the door, when the second guy stripped off his
clothes and got on the bed. He immediately began sucking my wife's big tits, and
then soon slid up to where he could press his erect cock against my wife's lips.
The slut didn't hesitate an instant. She sucked him deep into her mouth! I
watched her take both of these studs on at once! The first guy finally had his
second orgasm in her pussy and rolled off her. The second husband immediately
slid into position and began pounding away in my wife's noisy-wet cunt. He only
took a few minutes to cum, and after he was finished, the two men laid there,
totally exhausted. To my shock and amazement, my wife got up and paraded around
the room totally naked. After she tossed down a shot of booze like a pro, she
asked if either of the guys was ready to go again. They both moaned and said
they were spent. As she bent to pick up her clothes, I raced back to our room,
undressed, and slid under the covers pretending to be asleep. She came in soon
after me, quickly showered and got in bed with me, falling asleep almost
immediately. The following morning she asked me where the hell I went the night
before. I said I had told the other guy I was going back to our room and that
she could follow or stay and party if she wanted to. I bugged her about what
happened, but she never said a word about it! She said they just sat around
talking and drinking. After seeing the way she acted like a true, cheap,
low-bred, slut-tramp whore in that motel room, I again approached her about
swinging. Much to my surprise, she still refused. I couldn't figure what her
problem was. I had watched her be a real whore for two strangers, and knew she
had fucked and sucked another guy's balls dry, so why wouldn't she agree to a
little friendly swapping? We argued about it a little more, but I soon let it
drop. Instead, I realized how much fun I was having manipulating her into
different situations and watching her whore for other men. I began to keep a
notebook with dates and times, places and names (where I knew them), and how I
had set up the situation. Over the past five years, I have set up thirty-two
different arrangements that have resulted in at least ninety-eight different men
enjoying my wife's raunchy sexual talents. Each one of the arrangements was a
different set of circumstances, and I'm proud of my ability at inventing them.
There have been some great scenes! One night, I gave a guy I met in a bar my
address and set it up that he and three friends would burgle my house, so I
could make an insurance claim on an old TV. He asked if anyone would be home,
and I said, "You should be so lucky -- my wife is the easiest piece of ass in
the world!" And she was. Two of the burglars held her down for her first fuck,
but after that, she fucked and sucked all four of them dry. And I watched the
whole thing from our bedroom window! She fucked and sucked guys everywhere! In
motel rooms, on a pool table in the back of a bar, in bar and mall parking lots,
a weekend in a mountain cabin with five guys, and even in a Frat house full of
drunk, horny young studs after the Homecoming Game! The best and the worst time
was when I took her to the Big Stampede and Rodeo in Calgary, Canada. On the
last day, as we were strolling around the horse barn area, I told a group of
dirty, sweaty cowpokes that the woman walking along behind me in the short
yellow dress was an expensive, cock teasing hooker with a real "BITCH" attitude
and if they wanted some fun, they should try her out in the barn. They were
drunk and horny and stupid enough to try anything and I quickly climbed up into
the loft as they waited for the hooker in the short yellow dress. They started
talking to my wife as she walked by and when she shook her head at their rude
and lewd propositions and tried to leave, the cowboys grabbed her and dragged
her into the back of the barn. She yelled and fought a little, but they threw
her on a bunch of dirty blankets and ripped her clothes off her and I watched -
for the next hour - while what seemed like every cowboy in Canada took his turn
in her mouth, cunt and ass. When they finally finished with her, they left her
bare-assed naked, covered with cum, sweat, dirt, beer and booze. I watched as
she stood on wobbly legs and stumbled to the open door. When another group of
cowboys from across the way saw her standing there naked, they ran over and
carried her off into another barn. By the time I got down from the loft, she was
no where to be seen. I searched till I finally left the area and returned later,
looking for her. I checked and rechecked the motel room and looked in all the
bars, too. I even reported her missing to the security people, but they weren't
worried, telling me she just got lost in the crowd. Of course, I knew, but
couldn't tell them, that the last time I saw her she was naked as a baby in the
barn area with all those horny cowboys! Finally, at about four in the morning, I
heard the motel room door open. I pretended to be asleep as she and some man
stepped inside. I heard her thank him for the blanket and the ride home as she
handed him the cloth. He grabbed her big tits and said he wanted to fuck her
again. My wife shushed him to be quiet and she laid down on the floor. The guy
dropped his pants and fucked her hard, right there, in the room with her
husband! He left, and she crawled into the other bed and immediately fell
asleep. She was so exhausted, she didn't even stir when I removed the sheet and
looked at her body covered with dirt, stale booze, cum, and love marks. Believe
it or not, she still never mentioned any of these events to me. The next day,
she told me she had lost her purse and spent all that time she was gone looking
for it and waiting for it to show up at the "lost and found" booth. What
bullshit! I guess I never will know how many cowboys screwed her that day!
Anyway, I love what I've worked out. I wish I could watch her fuck and suck ten
different guys every night of the year! In five years, the only scene I arranged
that she balked at was when I tried to set up a party at a nearby Army base. I
wanted to see just how many men she could screw at one time, without stopping.
Some GI I met in a bar was going to get us into one of the barracks and just let
the guys line up until she couldn't take any more, or there were no guys left. I
told the GI that I was bringing a real, live nymphomaniac, and that there was no
limit to the number of cocks she could handle. He said that he could easily
guarantee fifty guys, probably more. I guess she got wind of the fact that the
"party" was going to be an all-night gang-bang, and I could never set it up with
her. I still enjoy setting up situations for guys to screw my wife, but I don't
think she wants any more out- of-control mass sex encounters - like the rodeo -
so I try to limit the number of men to four or five, or less. With all this sex
she has participated in, she has never once mentioned any of it to me. But, I
think she probably knows that I'm responsible for all or most of it (or, at
least, that I know and cooperate). I don't know if she knows I love watching it,
but from watching her in action, I know she's a cheap slut who damn well loves
every second of it! --- signed "Master Match Maker" ....... What an outrageous
tale! I just sat there on the bed, and let my breathing calm down. I wasn't sure
exactly which parts had turned me on. Maybe it was the forbidden sex, or being
taken, or even the gang-bangs (all are deep, forbidden, NASTY thoughts for a
"nice" woman like me to think). It certainly wasn't the author. I thought he was
a creep and an asshole, who couldn't even personalize "his wife" with a name in
his long letter. I couldn't figure why the wife wouldn't mention anything to her
husband, except that maybe he was such a creep and she didn't care if he knew or
not, or she didn't want to give him the satisfaction that she knew they were his
games. Then I began thinking about finding the letter hidden away in Phil's
drawer. Were the letter and the photos a strong and recurring fantasy for Phil?
Did he want to see me take on groups of strangers? Bizarre, and not like Phil at
all, but what else was I to think? Then I wondered... Had Phil ever tried to set
up an "arrangement" and I didn't realize it at the time? I sat there thinking
about that, and one time I could remember was about 18 months ago when Phil was
hosting a poker night. All his poker buddies were at the house when he called
from the office and said he would be very late, but that they should stay, play
cards, and eat the food -- which they did. I retired to the bedroom and read a
novel for the night. Phil showed up about an hour after he called and played
cards with his friends. I couldn't remember if he tried to pump me for
information about what had happened before he got home, but not having read the
letter, I would have never made the connection. Then another time came to mind.
Not long after we were married, Phil and I went on a fishing trip and I was the
only woman. We drove down in the afternoon and stayed in a motel overnight,
going out on the boat before dawn, the next day. Phil and I had dinner and,
later, drinks that night with four other fishermen in our motel room. And there
were other times that now, in light of the letter I just read, seemed
suspicious. A big company picnic where Phil just disappeared for an hour or so,
a night at a bar after a softball game, when Phil went out to the car to sleep
-- even on our honeymoon! How long had Phil had the letter? I really began to
wonder. I began to read the letter, again. And, this time, I found myself
lowering the zipper on my jeans and letting my hand move under my panties, until
my fingers found my already-hard and wet clit. I gently stroked and squeezed the
little nub as I read the letter over and over, until, in a great rush, I had a
long and wonderful orgasm. After I composed myself, I carefully replaced the
pages and photos just as I had found them in Phil's drawer and decided I would
act like I had never found the letter and photos. If my husband wanted to have a
little secret, he certainly deserved some privacy about it. And then I realized
something. I had used the letter to turn me on and help me reach an orgasm, just
as I'm sure Phil had used it in the past. Now, we had both masturbated reading
the same thing. That letter was a turn-on for both of us! Life resumed its
regular rhythms, and nothing out of the ordinary occurred. Occasionally, I'd
check Phil's drawer and I could tell the pictures and the letters had been
handled, but I never saw Phil anywhere near them.
PART 2
The following winter I received notice of my 15th high school reunion to be held
that spring. My family had moved halfway across the country one week after my
graduation and I hadn't seen any of my high school friends in those fifteen
years. I hadn't been the most popular girl in high school (I had been a little
too "pudgy" -- too "husky" for that), but I had had a lot of friends and been
active in several groups and clubs, and was anxious to see some old friends.
Because of finances, I had missed my tenth reunion and regretted it.
Fortunately, money wasn't a problem this time, and Phil readily agreed to go
with me. My mom and dad agreed to watch Bobby for the long weekend. I quickly
filled out the "what-have-you-been-up-to?" questionnaire and paid for our
tickets. I knew it wouldn't be as big a reunion as the tenth or twentieth, but I
was looking forward to going, anyway. My home town was fairly small, and I hoped
most of the people I remembered would still be there. I began to check myself
out in the mirror often. I knew I was in pretty good shape -- much better shape
than I had been in during high school -- but I up'ed my cycling and aerobics
routines to firm up and slim down as much as I could. Phil noticed and approved.
A couple of weeks before the reunion, Phil and I were sitting up, reading in
bed. Out of the blue, Phil asked me if I was ready to see some of the guys I had
dated in high school. I said, "sure." "Did you date a lot in high school,
Janice?" he asked. "No, not a lot. You have to remember, in high school I was
still in my chubby phase. I was Marge Pearson's chubby daughter. It wasn't until
college when I got away from my mother's cooking and discovered swimming that I
slimmed down and firmed up." "Ah... So it was in college you dated a lot." "I
sure did, honey. I had a lot of lonely Saturday nights to make up for. AND, I
was a cheerleader -- I had a responsibility to my public." I was trying to keep
the conversation light and fun. In fact, I had been a little on the wild side in
college. I had dated a lot of the jocks, sometimes two or three at a time,
nothing kinky, but often one on each night of the weekend. I settled down in
grad school and met Phil there, but college had been fun -- no doubt about that.
"So, it's true, what we non-athletes think about cheerleaders and football
players?" Obviously, my high school reunion was forgotten, and Phil wanted to
hear about my cheerleading days. I closed my book, chuckling, "Well, let's just
say I dated a football player or two. I knew it was part of my job description.
What exactly did you non-athletes think about us? I'm sure it was perverted!"
"Well, those of us in the accounting club often discussed the rumors of wild sex
orgies in the locker rooms after games. And how the cheerleaders would do
ANYTHING to boost team morale." "You accountants-to-be were one hundred percent
right. That's exactly what went on." Phil froze, and then his head spun to look
at me. "Really? Are you serious, Janice?" he asked anxiously. My smile broke
into a laugh, "No! Of course I'm not being serious, honey. What do you think I
am -- or was? If anything like that went on, I didn't hear about it. Just the
thought of the locker room -- those dirty, sweaty bodies after a game -- UGH!
Can you imagine the smell?" I pinched my nose closed and shook my head. "I'm
very sorry to shatter your male fantasies about us slutty cheerleaders -- we
were just your normal, everyday beauties worried about dates and homework and
pimples, just like everyone else." Phil was laughing with me, "well, you slutty
cheerleaders and your wild orgies were a lot more fun to talk about at our
accounting club meetings than balance sheets and number-2 pencils!" A few
minutes later, Phil quietly asked, "Are there any old flames in particular
you're looking forward to seeing at the reunion, Janice?" I took Phil's hand and
held it in mine, "Honey, I'm looking forward to seeing everybody. I didn't date
the hunks I had crushes on. I'm not trying to cop-out on you, but there isn't
anyone I dated, in high school *OR* college, I still have any `special' feelings
for. I saved all my special feelings for you." I gently moved his hand under the
deep V-neck of my nightie and placed it on my bare breast. Phil was always good
at getting my hints, and it was quite a while before we got to sleep that night.
...... On Saturday, several days after our "locker room orgy" conversation, I
was in Bobby's room when the phone rang. Phil was in the bathroom, so I answered
it. It was one of his golf buddies. When Phil came out to get the phone, I went
into our bathroom to collect the towels for the laundry. I picked up the towel
on the floor next to the throne and lying there was a full-page photo and the
two-page letter. The photo captured a magic moment in a pretty blonde girl's
life when she had three cocks (two white and a gigantic black cock) buried up
her pussy, in her ass, and down her throat. I was surprised, to say the least.
Had the phone call caught Phil masturbating? I quickly replaced the towel and
walked out of the bathroom. I acted like I hadn't seen a thing. But I had, and
it made me think about that damned letter and Phil's secret fantasies again.
...... June finally arrived and Phil and I flew out to Seattle. It was a long
ride in the rental car from the airport to my home town, and I could feel my
excitement rise with each mile. Even though it was late in the evening and we
were tired from the flight and the long ride, Phil indulged me and drove around
the town for me. I was thrilled to see that the town had changed so little in
the fifteen years since I had lived there. I pointed out all the "landmarks" to
Phil, as we drove from my old house, past the school and old hang-outs. He was
such a Dear, he acted interested and refused to yawn as I filled him in on the
minutiae of my pre- and pubescent life. Finally, on the other side of town,
where the drive-in movie used to be, we checked into our hotel room and got some
sleep. It was going to be a busy weekend. The reunion committee had scheduled a
luncheon at the hotel on Saturday, the big dance and party at the high school on
Saturday night, and a gourmet (catered, of course) breakfast on Sunday morning
in the high school cafeteria; and we were attending all of them. Everything was
wonderful. It was so great seeing so many old friends and we talked like there
hadn't been fifteen years since our last conversation. I'll admit I really
enjoyed the stares and looks my "new" body caused, and I was a whole lot more
popular at the dance than I had ever been at a dance while in high school. And
through it all, Phil was a perfect angel -- as gracious and as friendly as can
be. But the reason I'm writing all this down is -- the most outrageous event
took place on that Sunday. ...... About halfway through the breakfast, I excused
myself to literally and figuratively "go to the little girls' room." Feeling
nostalgic, I wandered out the door from the rest room to the girls' locker room
instead of the door back out to the hall. With classes over for the school year,
the lockers were empty and the room had been scrubbed clean. I tried to find my
old locker from my Senior year, but they all looked alike to me now. I soon
discovered I wasn't the only one waxing nostalgic. Through the vents high up in
the wall, I could hear voices from the boys' locker room. I walked closer to the
wall to listen and smelled cigar smoke through the vent. It was two or three
guys and they were talking about their football days. How typical. I turned to
leave, and was surprised by a rack full of brand new cheerleader uniforms! They
were beautiful! Apparently, the school had just sprung for new uniforms for the
squad, and since school was closed for the Summer, they were just hanging there
until tryouts in August. I had thoroughly enjoyed my years as a cheerleader in
college. It had been extremely difficult to make the squad, because I hadn't
already been one in high school, like all the other girls. But in high school, I
was plump and too roly-poly to even think about trying out for cheerleader --
and I always regretted that fact. On an impulse, I grabbed an outfit that looked
close to my size and sat on a bench, in front of a locker. Here was my chance to
finally wear my high school colors! The uniform was sparkling white with the
school's name emblazoned across the front in blue and gold. What the hell! Who
would ever know? I'd put it right back on the rack afterwards. I stood up and
unzipped my dress down the back. Next came my slip. I quickly unwrapped the
uniform, pulled the top over my head and shimmied the too-tight skirt up my legs
and over my hips. I walked over to the big mirror to take a look at myself and
laughed at the sight. The uniform was too small and too short. The skirt was so
short I could see my stocking tops, so I rolled my stockings off and stepped
back into my high heels. Now, when I looked in the mirror, I saw that the tight
top stretched across my big boobs, the short skirt with only tiny panties on
under it, and the black high heels perverted the uniform into something erotic,
rather than innocent. But wasn't that the trademark of the best cheerleader
outfits, like the Dallas Cowboys' squad? ...... At that precise moment I heard
two things that caused me to change my life drastically. At almost the same
time, I heard the ex-jocks in the boys' locker room burst into a loud laugh, and
I heard Phil, somewhere in the halls outside, call my name. I stood there,
looking at myself in the mirror, seeing a boy's wet-dream image of a
cheerleader. Then, in a flash of images, one after the other... I thought about
Phil's secret drawer and the "Editor's Choice" letter... all his photos of the
blondes having sex with groups of men... the men in the next room... my "new"
body... nasty, raunchy sex... Phil watching his wife... Phil seeing his
"Accounting Club fantasies" being acted out before his eyes... safe sex... being
naughty... doing something so totally bizarre compared to the rest of my stable
and quiet life... maybe even showing a few of my old classmates what they missed
fifteen years ago... I stopped thinking. I didn't want my thoughts getting in
the way of what I was doing. I was just going to let things happen. I took a
deep breath and then walked out of the girls' locker room. The hall was empty,
but I heard Phil call my name again -- a lot closer, this time. I hesitated for
a second and then pushed open the door to the boys' locker room. The door
"ssshhhhh'd" close behind me as I looked around. The room was much larger than
the girls' locker room and definitely had a much stronger sweat smell -- only
instead of making me wrinkle my nose in disgust, it actually turned me on a
little more. Maybe that little talk with Phil in bed had helped. I stepped
deeper into the room and looked down the next row of lockers -- no one was in
sight, but the smell of cigar was getting stronger, and the voices louder.
Finally, as I peeked around the next row, I saw the source. Three men were
sitting on the benches, leaning up against the lockers, and passing around a
half-full bottle of "Jack Black." Bob Anderson, Otis Parker, and Jamie Syzmanski
-- all heroes from our football team's "Glory Days" of State Championships. Bob
had been the running back, and was now running his father's Chevy/Nissan/GMC
dealership in town. He had been the most coveted hunk in my high school years,
and he was even better looking now -- still built and with a full head of
salt-and- pepper hair. Otis had been the all-star center. He was huge and Black.
I think someone said he was a guard at the State penitentiary. Jamie had been
another lineman and was just as big as Otis. He had turned his father's bar into
the town's most popular restaurant and lounge. I had stopped thinking earlier, I
was running on impulse alone. I stepped out into the center of the row and
smiled at the three men, "Hello, boys. Reliving some past glories?" The looks on
their frozen faces were wonderful! They were shocked and surprised, and
obviously liked what they saw. Jamie spoke first, "Janice? Janice Pearson?" I
smiled and nodded, "Well, it's Janice Vallegia now, but who cares?" Feeling like
a total VAMP, I walked up to Bob and took the sour mash from his hand and belted
down a healthy swig - - no sense being the only sober one in the room. "You
football studs in need of a cheerleader?" They all started blubbering at once --
(Was that the locker room door I heard opening and closing?) -- about how sexy I
looked, how great my body was, how much they all enjoyed seeing me again, how I
could cheerlead for them anytime. On and on, until Bob cut through the shit and
pulled me down on to his lap and mashed his mouth on mine, pushing his tongue
down my throat. As I returned his kiss, I heard Jamie, "Ahem, Otis, my man, I
guess these two would like to `reminisce' alone." I held up my hand and broke
away from Bob's mouth long enough to say, "No need for anyone to leave, if
that's alright with you gentlemen." BBRRIIINNNGGG!!! And we were off to the
races! Those three guys proved that there was a lot to be said for teamwork! In
under a minute, I was being gang-banged and loving it far more than I imagined I
would! ...... Bob resumed kissing me as his hands found their way up under my
top. He pulled my bra cups off my breasts and I moaned into his mouth when his
two hands gently covered and squeezed my tits. We broke apart for a moment while
I shed my top and bra and laid back down on the bench -- not very comfortable,
but it would do! Bob knelt beside me and tweaked my hard nipple with one hand as
he filled his mouth with my other nipple. Meanwhile, Otis flipped my skirt up
and I lifted my hips off the bench, to help him strip my panties off. He dropped
his own pants and underwear and straddled the bench. He smiled at me as he
looked down on my naked pussy, then he spit in his palm and rubbed it on the
head of his dark, and almost-purple, cock. "Mmmmm, mmmmm, mmmmm! You gonna like
this, Janice. I been savin' it up for you all these years." I smiled up at him
and said, "Then don't make me wait any longer for it, Otis." He didn't. He knelt
on the narrow bench, between my spread legs, and lowered himself down onto and
into me. I was so anxious to be fucked, so hot to be screwed, I half-cried,
half- moaned as I felt his warm meat penetrate me. Deeper and deeper, until his
huge body was pressing on top of me, fucking me with everything he had. I turned
to Jamie and motioned him closer with my hand. As He stood next to my head, I
reached up and pulled his zipper down. Finally getting the hint, he unfastened
his pants and dropped them and his underwear. His hardening cock fit perfectly
in my mouth. At that moment, at the same time I was trying to concentrate on
what I was doing to these guys -- and what they were doing to me! -- I had a
sort of out-of-body experience. At my very wildest in college, I had never made
love to more that one man at a time. Now, there were three sex-hungry men having
their way with me in my old high school's boys' locker room! To say I was
shocked at what I was doing would be an incredible understatement. And then I
wondered if I really had heard the door open and close, and Phil was watching
his wife behave like the sluttiest cheerleader ever born! Was this really his
fantasy? Or, I began to wonder, was it mine? Otis came with a loud grunt and a
hard shove and moved off me. Immediately, Bob left my breasts and moved to take
his place. I had already cum while Otis was fucking me, and never being all that
multi-orgasmic, was delightfully surprised to begin my next orgasm as Bob pushed
his prick up my slippery pussy and Otis began to play with my tits. Trying to
breathe through my nose and around Jamie's cock as I came wasn't all that easy,
and he made it more difficult as he started to shoot a river of cum down my
throat. I kept up with him and could feel only a little spill out of my mouth
and onto my chin. He pulled his meat from my still-sucking mouth and said, "That
was great!" Otis moved into position, "Yeah? Let me be the judge." I grasped his
warm and sticky cock and guided it into my mouth as I caressed his very large
balls. Bill continued to pound away in me and I was impressed with his stamina.
Otis was erect and stretching my lips as I sucked him in and out. Jamie
eventually reached around and between his friends to play with my tits, and I
began to cum all over again. This was the most fantastic sex I had ever had!
Bill came, followed by Otis. I asked Jamie if he wanted his chance to fuck me,
and he took his turn, too. I don't know how long the whole episode had taken,
but it seemed like it was over in a flash. When I finally gathered my wits, I
looked around for my bra and panties. Bill and Otis were sharing the "Jack
Daniels" again and giggled. Otis laughed and waved at the room full of lockers,
"Janice, while you and my man Jamie we so occupied, I stuffed your pretty little
lace things in two lockers -- I figured I'd give some little freshman a real
thrill on his first day of P.E. in September. I guess I can help you find them."
"No, forget them, Otis. I better get out of here. Am I the only one here
married?" "Hell, no," laughed Jamie, "our wives know all we do when the three of
us get together is talk football, so they decided not to come." I grabbed the
cheerleader uniform and started towards the door, "Well, boys, it's been great.
See you next reunion." "Oh, Janice, please don't make us wait THAT long for our
next fun time." "I left my name and address with the committee, Bill. Call me if
any of you ever get to Baltimore. Bye!" I held the clothes up in front of me,
but didn't take the time to put them on. I peeked out into the hall, saw it was
clear and made a mad dash back to the girls' locker room. I rolled on my
stockings and zipped up my dress in record time. As much as I wanted to keep the
uniform, I didn't want to steal it from the school, and I didn't have any place
to hide it; so, I put it back on the hangers and under the plastic. ...... When
I walked back into the cafeteria on wobbly legs, the crowd had pretty much
thinned out. Phil was sitting alone at the table, where I had left him. When he
saw me approach, he smiled and asked, "And where have you been?" I'm sure I
blushed as I smiled back, "Well, I went to the ladies' room and ran into some
old classmates." "Were you gabbing all that time?" I shrugged, "You know how it
is when old friends get together." At the same time I was studying my husband's
pleasant face, wondering if he spent the whole time waiting for me at the table.
We made our rounds, saying goodbye and promising to stay in touch. I was sorry
the reunion was over and that I was leaving old friends again, but it had
certainly been the weekend of my life. We were almost out the door, when Connie
DeLong waved at us, "Bye, you two! I didn't even know you were still here! Where
did you two disappear to all morning?" I quickly glanced at Phil. He was looking
straight at Connie but was blushing as much as I felt I was -- and then I knew.
I wonder what Connie would have thought if we both told her where we had been
that morning! That was the first time. It got a lot easier after that! Phil's
happy, I'm happy, and the men I meet are very happy! --
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