Dirty Little Secrets 6: Sharing free porn video

“Your wife is an unfaithful whore.”

The message has been sent to my work inbox. The most remarkable thing about it is perhaps that it bypassed the attentions of my normally so reliable PA, Ms. McLeod, who does such a good job of scanning incoming messages. PA is in this instance perhaps a euphemism for general dogsbody, but Ms. McLeod performs her duties assiduously.

I don’t know how other men would react to receiving such a message, but I haven’t got where I am by taking unsubstantiated rumours at face value. For that reason I forward the message to my extra private e-mail account before sending a reply to the accuser, the self-styled Chase I. Tyturp. “Who are you? Do you have proof?”

I have no doubt that the first question will go unanswered. The second? Who knows? Without proof, I will treat the message as gossip; possibly malicious, possibly not.

Sun is rising in Osaka as I check my regular private inbox. I know there’ll be an e-mail from my wife, Catherine, and there it is. Pushing the anonymous message to the back of my mind, I feel a thrill as I regard the attached file.

First I read the e-mail, which consists of a little local gossip and news about my wife’s day yesterday, which I suppose technically is still yesterday back in the UK. She tells me how much she misses me, and almost as an aside comes, “PS. I know you’ll enjoy the video.” It’s followed by one of those little blushing emoticons.

I know I’ll enjoy the video too. I always do. I work every other week abroad, and every day when I’m away, Catherine performs in front of the camera and sends me the resulting video, unless the time difference is not so great that we can’t communicate IRT, which we haven’t able to do for a couple of months now. This has been going on for close to three years, and I still can’t get enough.

I connect the laptop to the TV before downloading the attachment and playing. That way I can lay on the bed and stroke my hard cock while I watch my horny wife magnified on the screen. When she first started making these videos, Catherine was very shy and unsure of herself, which was sexy in its own way. As time has gone on, though, she’s shed more and more inhibitions.

Look at her now. She’s wearing a black dress, which is really no more than a gauzy piece of fabric that leaves nothing to the imagination. Look at her as she spreads her legs and her pussy lips. “I want your big, swollen cock inside me,” she breathes. “I need you to fill me right up. I want your cock.”

Catherine fills herself, first with fingers, then with a dildo. Her juicy cunt is revealed to me in glorious hi-def close-up. “I need you to fuck me!” she moans. “I want your swollen cock inside my tight pussy!”

Initially, Catherine could hardly bring herself to use any dirty word. Now she seems to say things with impunity. I stroke my raging erection as I watch her plug herself with the dildo, then move the camera so that it’s aimed at the sybian I bought her a while back as a present.

She sits on the machine and turns the controls. Her body arches immediately and she cries out loud. There’s a different dildo on the stool in front of her. She grabs it. “Give me your cock!” she moans. “I want your cock! I want your big swollen cock in my mouth! I want to feel your hot, sticky cum in my mouth when I cum!”

And then my wife sits there, on the sex machine, letting it drive her to a climax as she feeds herself the the fake cock. When her orgasm finally strikes, I finish myself off, wanking hard and spurting up over my stomach, imagining my cock deep in my wife’s mouth. We’ve done it for real numerous times since I bought her the sybian. It was a good investment.

I shower and get dressed before sending Catherine an e-mail. I tell her what things are like here in Osaka, and then I compliment her on her performance, telling her how she just keeps getting hotter and hotter, and that the first thing I want to do when I get home is feel her tight pussy round my swollen cock, and then to feel her tongue on me as I deliver a sticky load in her mouth.

Other men envy me. I know they do.

How do I know?

I know because some of my colleagues have been allowed in on the secret. I know that’s wrong of me, that it might almost count as a betrayal of sorts, but it was never meant that way. It was never meant to happen at all, it just did.

Working abroad like this, it happens quite often that people I work with invite me out of an evening. Most often we just end up in a bar, but on occasion I’ve consented to go along to strip clubs. In some cultures it works as a form of male bonding, if not actively encouraged, then certainly accepted as a way of building cohesion in the workplace. I don’t like it much, though. There’s the practical reason that it excludes women from that workplace cohesion. Then there’s the emotional reason that I don’t particularly enjoy such places. Don’t get me wrong, I’m as happy to watch attractive women perform on stage as the next man, I just don’t like loud, crowded environments.

The first time someone was allowed in on the secret was in the United States. A burly, recently divorced Texan by the name of Ed suggested we go watch a “show” together. I really wasn’t in the mood, so I politely declined on the grounds that I – nudge, nudge, wink, wink – had entertainment of my own waiting in my hotel room.

I should have known better. This piqued Ed’s curiosity, and, well, one thing led to another. After a drink or two in the hotel bar, we spent the rest of the evening in my room, watching videos of my wife. “She’s a keeper, no doubt about it,” was Ed’s verdict. “Hell, if my little lady had been half the woman yours is, I wouldn’t have wanted to go to work at all!”

I wish I could say I regretted what I’d done, but I didn’t. I experienced an odd sense of delight in sitting with another man, watching my wife with her legs spread and a vibrator in her hand. Exactly what it was, I didn’t know. Was it pride at having a hot, sexy wife, of enjoying the knowledge that another man knew what a prize I’d bagged? I watched out of the corner of my eye as Ed ejaculated into a mound of toilet paper as Catherine vibed herself to a climax, breathing, “Cum for me! Cum for me!” the way she does.

Was it a betrayal? I don’t know. All I know was that the chance of Ed and Catherine actually meeting was wafer thin. I also knew that however garrulous Ed appeared on the outside, he was a man whose lips were tightly sealed when it really mattered.

I vowed that there would never be a repeat. But there was, and by coincidence, the second time it happened was here in Osaka.

The office manager was and still is a man named Hiroshi. His father had been a diplomat, and Hiroshi had spent his formative years in the United States, as a result of which he spoke excellent English. But in other respects, Hiroshi lived by rules to which I was unaccustomed. Once a month he was in the habit of inviting the male members off staff to his house for a get-together. I found it a strange thing to do, but it was my first time in Osaka, and I decided to go along, since I was invited.

There were drinks and there was talk, and then suddenly Hiroshi appeared from a back room with a woman. The talk stopped immediately. Everyone moved towards Hiroshi and the woman, ending up in a semi-circle. The woman made a gesture of greeting. She looked very shy and deferential. She was also very pretty. I can’t remember hearing her say many words, and those were in Japanese.

Anyway, to cut a long story short, the woman slowly stripped off in front of us. She sat on a leather sofa, spread her legs and played with herself. After about ten minutes, Hiroshi produced a vibrator which he showed the woman, saying some words in Japanese. She replied, and then Hiroshi was addressing us. I didn’t understand a word, except “bukkake”.

All around me, colleagues were unzipping and bringing out their erections. The woman laid full length on the sofa as Hiroshi used the vibe between her thighs. One by one the men stepped up and wanked their stiff cocks until they ejaculated on the woman.

There were between 15 and 20 of us. Yes, I joined in. It would have been impolite not to. During the course of the session, the woman appeared to climax twice, though she could of course have been faking. She smiled at us afterwards, with sperm running down her face and body and said some words in Japanese which Hiroshi translated as, “Thank you. I enjoyed that very much.”

The next day I questioned Hiroshi about what had gone on. “It’s good for staff morale,” he said. “The men work very hard. They deserve a special treat every now and again.”

“What about the women?” I asked. “Don’t they work hard?”

Hiroshi gave a wicked grin. “I’d love to invite them,” he said. “But these things are not to everyone’s liking.”

No, I thought, thinking that Hiroshi had taken a chance letting me in on things. Although now that I had implicated myself, there wasn’t much for him to fear. “So who is the woman?”

Hiroshi gave another wicked grin. “Sachi is my concubine,” he said. “She does everything I say, and I am happy to share her on special occasions.”

Was he referring to yesterday, or was this a coded invitation to a more private arrangement? “You have a concubine?” I said, playing for time.

“Of course,” he said. “Every man must have a concubine. Do you not have one yourself?”

The appropriate response would of course have been to politely explain that I was very happily married and felt no need to seek pleasure elsewhere. Instead, I found myself saying. “Yes, I do. Of course.”

Was it one-upmanship, or had I secretly been longing for the opportunity all along? I still don’t know to this day. All I know is that evening, Hiroshi joined me in my hotel room, and together we watched my wife Catherine, who I was now passing off as my concubine, as she pleasured herself. Once again I experienced that curious sense of pleasure as another man came watching her, hearing her urge, “Cum for me! Cum for me!”

“She’s very good, your concubine,” Hiroshi said afterwards. “You should make her do bukkake.”

There was no way I could “make” Catherine do anything of course, but the thought of her with rivers of cum all over her haunted and excited me for weeks afterwards. I would never want it to happen for real of course, but the thought…

Anyway, after Hiroshi there followed occasional occasions when I let specially chosen colleagues watch Catherine. Depending on how trustworthy I deemed them, whether I let them know she was my wife, or whether I passed her off as my “bit on the side” varied.

And now, here I am back in Osaka. After a hard day’s work, Hiroshi asks if I fancy going to a club. There can be no doubt as to what type of club.

I decline politely. “I have my own entertainment back at the hotel.”

“Ah yes,” Hiroshi says. “Your concubine. So she is still making videos for you?”

“Yes,” I say. “And Sachi, is she still enjoying the bukkake?”

Hiroshi looks a little sheepish. “I am unfortunately between concubines,” he says.

I really don’t want to go to a club. Not least because something’s been nagging at the back of my mind all day. It’s something that might not have crept into semi-consciousness without the anonymous e-mail, but now it’s there, and I had planned to spend the evening checking.

“Would you like to come up to my hotel room?” I ask Hiroshi. “My concubine has made some amazing videos.” Calling Catherine “my concubine” causes me an inexplicable thrill.

Hiroshi smiles. “I would be honoured,” he says. “And it’s cheaper than going to a club.”

There’s no arguing with that, and soon we’re back at the hotel. The room is really a suite, with a second TV screen in the adjoining sitting area, to which I hook up the computer. We sit in a chair each with a fresh roll of toilet paper on the table in front of us.

I don’t think I’ll ever quite get used to it, this sitting next to another man, both of us with our cocks out, wanking as we watch my gorgeous wife perform. What would Catherine say if she knew? Part of me daren’t think. Part of me hopes she’d be flattered, enjoy the idea even. I’ve tried to introduce the topic, although I’m not sure I made a very good job of it. I tried finding out how she’d feel about other men watching her. She didn’t reject the idea outright, but said she’d think about it. That’s when I bought her the camcorder she used for her latest videos, as a kind of nudge in a certain direction. I do feel guilty about this, you see. I’d be happier if it was all open and above board. And strangely, I have an idea it would turn me on even more if Catherine was happy to let other men watch her perform.

But for now there’s the other issue. The question of if there is any truth in the anonymous e-mail. I choose to show Hiroshi one of the longer clips first, from over a month ago. Catherine puts in an amazing performance in the same dress she’s wearing in her latest clip, crawling all over the floor, turning her arse towards the camera, plugging herself with a dildo while fingering her anus and asking which hole I want? This is truly amazing since anal sex is the one thing that’s always been off limits.

Then she gets up in an armchair and spreads her legs, using a huge – and I mean huge – black dildo on herself. The whole thing ends with a massive squirt. But as spectacular as the video is, what interests me this evening are the little signs. Now that I look for them, I’m sure they’re there. They’re only flickers, and if you had no cause to look for them, you’d never see them. But now I do, the way her eyes move for a fraction of a second.

“Your concubine is the kind of woman one would pay good money to be with,” Hiroshi says, once the clip is over.

I feel embarrassed for Catherine, but I also feel a strange sense of misplaced pride. I’d love to be able to give her Hiroshi’s verdict, but how can I?

I play more of Catherine’s videos, watching her eyes and seeing those minute flickers. Having received the anonymous e-mail I have to ask myself, can it be possible that there’s someone there with her? Being the kind of man who doesn’t believe anything without proof, I will wait, to see if my anonymous correspondent furnishes me with any.

Hiroshi doesn’t leave until late. I show him the entire sequence of five videos Catherine made with the sybian the week after I bought it for her, and we both ejaculate twice. “I am very grateful to you,” Hiroshi says before leaving. “When I have found a new concubine, I will repay my gratitude.”

Now what does that mean exactly?

I shower and climb into bed. Tomorrow’s going to be a busy day, and I have to get up even earlier than I might to take in the delights of Catherine’s next video. I can hardly wait, but it also strikes me that there might be something from my anonymous correspondent too.

That makes me remember what I’d meant to do. I get back out of bed. It’s the middle of the working day back in the UK. At first the line is engaged. I try three times before my PA, Ms. McLeod, finally answers. “I received a crank e-mail,” I tell her. “It somehow slipped through the net. From somebody calling themselves Chase I. Tyturp.”

“I’m very sorry, Mr Roberts,” Ms. McLeod says. “I’m afraid I was a little distracted yesterday.”

“Nothing serious, I hope.”

“No, no.” She sounds a little distracted now, but I decide not to say anything. “There was a crisis in the congregation. The Pastor’s daughter acquired a tattoo.”

Don’t worry, all the kids have tattoos these days, I want to tell her, but apparently in the circles in which Charlotte moves, this is a major crisis, possibly requiring a combination of trauma counselling and exorcism. “I see,” I say. “Well, these things happen.”

“Chase I. Tyturp, you said,” Ms. McLeod says. “I’ll screen them out if there are any more.”

“No,” I say, wishing I hadn’t used the word ‘crank’. “You can let them through. You needn’t bother reading them.” It strikes me now that I’m actually very glad she hasn’t read the first one.

“Whatever you say, Mr Roberts.” She doesn’t sound too surprised or curious, but then whatever her private beliefs, or perhaps because of them, Ms. McLeod always defers to authority.

“Thank you, Ms. McLeod. “Keep up the good work.”

“Yes, Mr Roberts.”

I check my e-mails one last time, just in case, but there’s nothing that can’t wait until tomorrow. Back in bed I bring something incomprehensible up on the TV and turn out the light. With a language I don’t understand – except for the odd word – in the background, I close my eyes and ask myself: Is it possible that Catherine is having an affair?

Anything is of course possible, and I really don’t know. I do, however, know that I’d be prepared to forgive her, or even to overlook the whole thing entirely.

You see, guilt is a powerful thing, and I don’t just mean the guilt of showing Catherine’s videos to the likes of Hiroshi.

It happened in Toronto, where I came to work closely with a man named Paul. He was very easy to get to along with, and exhibited an excellent combination of being easy-going and conscientious. We got to know each other quite well during the course of the week, and on my last evening there, he invited me to his home for dinner with himself as and his wife.

I knew I had a new video from Catherine waiting, and I was on tenterhooks wanting to see it, but it wasn’t going to disappear, and dinner with Paul and his wife seemed like a very attractive proposition.

The wife’s name was Erica. She was an attractive brunette with a full figure who was every bit as easy to like as her husband. The most noticeable thing was the atmosphere in their home, the atmosphere between them. I hesitate to describe it, since there is no way to do it justice. There was such a sense of love between them as I had never felt before or since. I mean, there’s plenty of love in my own marriage, but this was something else.

And yet it didn’t take long before I got the distinct impression that Erica was flirting with me. I tried not to respond, stealing glances at Paul to see how he felt about this. Amazingly, either he didn’t notice or he didn’t care. I was finding it hard to decide which.

The dinner was excellent, and I thanked my hosts profusely. I was offered a drink in the living room, which I gladly accepted. We made small talk, and I became a little bit fuzzy, not so much from the drink as from the atmosphere in the house, that was so very pleasant.

Then Paul announced that he had to make a call. I could relate to that, work always impinging on private time. He left the room and I looked at Erica to say something about the job and never being sure that leisure time really was leisure time. My words got stuck in my throat when I saw that she was winking at me from behind her glasses and undoing the top button of her blouse.

“What’s the matter?” she said, reading my expression. “Don’t you want a peek? You’ve been staring at them all evening.”

This was a little bit of an exaggeration. I’d been trying hard not to, but scarcely a man alive wouldn’t have his gaze lured to Erica’s huge mammaries, the size of which no amount of clothing could conceal. “But Paul…” I said, gesturing at the doorway.

“Paul likes you,” Erica said, continuing downwards. “We both like you.”

There was a good dose of cleavage on show now, the kind of cleavage that hardly any man could resist. I mean, Catherine has luscious breasts, but Erica’s were really something out of the ordinary. I felt suddenly that any garment must struggle to keep them in. “I’m married,” I said.

“I know,” Erica smiled. She’d undone all the buttons now, and wriggled out of the blouse, huge boobs on display with a vast spread of areola under gauzy fabric. “And if Paul went to England, I wouldn’t mind if he shared your wife, just so long as he told me all about it.”

I could hardly believe my ears, but I confess that having spent time in my hotel room with other colleagues watching Catherine’s videos, the thought excited me more than it ought. All the same, since I could hardly go home and tell Catherine all about a Canadian threesome, it was hardly the same thing.

Erica just sat there, waiting for me to respond, sliding fingers across the bra cups, attending especially to nipples so hard and swollen I wondered that they didn’t pierce the fabric.

When there was no direct response from me, Erica got up and rounded the table. She sat on the arm of the chair, took one of my hands and placed it on one of her spectacular boobs. I couldn’t help but squeeze, feeling my already half-grown cock stiffen into action mode. I was horribly torn, but somehow I couldn’t tear my hand away. I gave another squeeze before sliding my fingers across the huge mound, experiencing a huge thrill as my fingertip nudged the outline of nipple.

“Do you want a taste?” Erica asked, with a gleam in her voice.

Before I’d had time to think, I was nodding. Erica reached back to unhook her bra, letting mammoth, ripe, pear-shaped delights into freedom. I leaned over and closed my lips round a succulent nipple, teasing it with my tongue as I sucked hard.

“Mmmmm,” Erica purred. I grabbed at her other breast and felt her hand in my lap, easily finding what she was looking for.

Perhaps I should have exerted more self-control. As a married man, I should have said something along the lines of being flattered but unwilling to follow through. But by the time Erica’s hand was in my lap, it was too late. Things were already bound to take their course.

Erica purred again, her fingers kneading me through my trousers, as I dragged my tongue across her nipples. She moved her free hand up her skirt to feel herself. Then she said, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, “Do you want a blowjob? I love sucking cock.”

“It’s true. She does.” I stared across to the doorway, in spite of everything shocked to see Paul standing there, buck naked with his cock in his hand. He paused. “As a matter of fact, so do I, but that’s not for you, is it?”

I’m sure there are some who would claim that my occasional viewing of my wife’s videos with other men had a strong homoerotic element, but he was essentially right. I’d never seriously contemplated sex with another man, nor was I about to. “N-no,” I stammered.

“Well, that’s less fun for me,” Paul smiled, “but I can live with that.”

He was moving across the room, still holding his erection. When he reached us, he placed a hand on the back of his wife’s neck and leaned in to kiss her. Again it was a kiss that spoke volumes of how deeply they loved each other, and yet here Paul was, prepared to share his wife with me. I found it hard to get my head round that. Later Paul would explain to me how he and Erica had learned about the incompatibility of possessiveness and love, but I still found it hard to contemplate. I think he found me a bit conventional.

“You haven’t answered the question,” Paul said lightly. “Do you want Erica to suck your cock?”

The pair kissed again. “I wouldn’t say no,” I said, to the couple’s amusement. Perhaps they felt I was being unnecessarily British.

Erica unzipped me, sticking a hand inside my trousers. A quick fumble later, my hard cock was out in the open.

“What do you think?” Paul said.

“I think I’m hungry,” Erica replied. “We didn’t have any dessert, remember?”

She slid off the arm of the chair, rearranging herself so that she came to stand on all fours in front of me. She smiled as her tongue came out and slid all over my stiff cock. I reached out, running my fingers through her dark ringlets. Her tongue was soft and moist and I couldn’t help but groan. “That’s sensational,” I whispered.

“You just wait until she’s got her lips round you,” Paul said. “Then you’ll really find out how much she loves giving head.”

For now Erica seemed content to just lick her way round my shaft, and I wasn’t going to argue with anything she wanted to do. In the meantime, Paul came round behind his wife. “There’s no point in keeping your skirt on,” he decided. He unzipped the garment, pulling it off her to reveal stocking-tops and suspenders. Standing behind Erica, he pushed his hand between her thighs.

Erica moved her tongue away to turn her head briefly. I saw Paul smile at her with a gleam in his eye. She turned back, balancing with one hand as she grabbed hold of my cock and winked at me from behind her spectacles, sliding her tongue round her lips. Then she placed her lips against my bulb, her tongue coming out to tease the underside of my cock. She had fabulously attractive lips, and pre-cum leaked from the tip of my cock. If this provided the final spur, I don’t know, but now Erica’s lips finally slid down over my cock, and kept sliding.

I was in dreamland. Erica had said that she loved giving blowjobs, and here was the proof. She sucked and slurped with such gusto that I disloyally started to wish I was married to her instead of to Catherine. I grabbed handfuls of hair, hardly realising what I was doing when I pushed her down on me. My whole cock vanished into Erica’s mouth. There was saliva everywhere. Behind his wife, Paul was grinning at me, his arm moving as he watched his wife devour my throbbing gristle.

I pulled on Erica’s hair and pushed on her head. Her tongue wriggled against my shaft as those gorgeous lips clamped themselves round me. Paul moved away from his wife to clear the coffee table of the few things that were on it. Then he walked back up to Erica and gave her a playful slap on the arse. “Why don’t you lay on the table while John undresses?”

It was just as well he did intervene, or the flood of saliva in Erica’s mouth way well have been augmented by a load of fresh spunk. I undressed as quickly as I could, and when I was naked, Erica was already flat on her back on the table, big swollen nipples on her humungous tits, legs spread, crotchless knickers revealing a glistening pussy. Her head was turned to one side, and now Paul was experiencing the full pleasure of her mouth.

“Just dive right in,” the man said. “You haven’t had any dessert either.” As he spoke, Erica obligingly slid two hands down her body to open herself up. She was moaning and slurping as her husband moved his cock in her mouth.

There was nothing to be gained by acting reserved. I got down on my knees and leaned forward, sliding a finger inside Erica. I didn’t need to, to divine that she was leaking with desire, but she seemed to like my attention, moaning even louder.

I replaced my finger with my tongue, the taste of sweet nectar going straight to my head. I pushed my face up against her, wanting to give her every inch of my tongue, the way she’d sucked every inch of my cock. There was liquid everywhere, as if someone had turned on a tap. Upstairs she was still slurping greedily. “Enjoying yourself, babe?” Paul said.

“Mmm-hmmmm,” Erica replied, still slurping loudly.

I moved my tongue up to Erica’s clit, managing to slide two fingers inside her creamy tunnel. Her moans increased in intensity. I was a man on a mission now, wanting to bring this gorgeous lady to a climax. But just as I felt I was reaching my goal, Erica was gasping, “Not yet! I want to feel your cocks inside me.”

I pulled away, just staring at her, and at Paul who was grinning wickedly. “You’re our guest,” he said with a sweep of one arm. “You go first.”

I was well in the mood by now. I looked at the gorgeous woman on her back in front of me with her legs spread, and grabbed her to move her into position. Paul looked exceedingly excited at the prospect of me fucking his wife. “Give it to her good!” he said.

It was an unnecessary thing to say. I was so turned on by Erica. The minute I penetrated her, it was as if her vagina was trying to swallow me whole. “Yes, give it to me good!” she breathed, echoing her husband’s words.

Paul made a grab for her right breast as I began thrusting. He pinched her mammoth sized nipple as he wiped the head of his cock over Erica’s other nipple. In an instant I was pounding the woman’s pussy. There was no need for Erica to urge me on, but she gasped, “Yes! Yes! Give me it hard!”

I was so enflamed I was already fucking her as hard as I possibly could. She moaned out loud, and I was sure she was the most effortlessly sexy woman I had ever had. I include Catherine in this. My wife may be a complete sexpot now, but it took time for her to lose various inhibitions.

Paul leaned over and began sucking on Erica’s nipples as he squeezed her huge breasts. Erica moaned and moaned as I worked myself into a frenzy. I don’t think I’ve ever been so unsophisticated in a sexual situation. All I wanted was to fuck Erica, to fuck her hard, and then fuck her some more. There was a loud squishing as I stuffed her cunt. I know that sounds vulgar, but that’s how it was. I was like some wild animal whose only aim was to fuck the female of the species until I blasted my seed into her. Anything else would have seemed like politeness above and beyond the call of duty.

Erica echoed these feelings of mine. In fact she sensed what was about to happen before I did. “Yes! Yes! Cum! Fuck me and cum inside me!”

I couldn’t have stopped myself from doing just that, even if I’d wanted to. Within seconds I was bellowing out loud. Words were spewing from my mouth, but I had no idea what I was crying out; something along the lines of, “Fucking hell, woman! You are the hottest fucking woman I’ve ever fucked! Fuck, I’m so horny. Fuck, take my fucking sperm! Let me fill you right up with my sperm!”

As this ridiculous torrent of words issued forth, so did my spunk. I spewed cum into Erica’s tight, wet pussy, as she moaned happily and gasped, “Yes! Yes! Cum in me! Cum inside me! Give me your cum!”

Only as the last drops drained from me did I catch Paul’s eye. “Wow!” he said. “That was really something!”

Erica lifted her head enough for her eyes to twinkle in my direction as she breathed, “Bring your cock over here and let me clean you off, while Paul cleans me off.”

Rather stupidly, I didn’t understand what she meant. I grasped the first bit well enough, but as for the second, I think I kind of envisaged Paul darting off after wet wipes. It was only as I stood over Erica’s face, with her tongue sliding over my cock that I realised what she meant, as Paul got down between his wife’s thighs and began licking her.

“My husband’s such a cumslut,” she giggled.

My mind was well and truly boggled as Paul pushed his lips up against his wife’s pussy, where no doubt my cum was leaking out of her.

“Oh, yes, lick me all over!” Erica breathed. “But don’t take too long. I really need your cock inside me!”

Then my cock was suddenly inside her mouth. I’d softened some by now, and was frankly a bit too sensitive for this, but all that changed in a few seconds. Not since I was a teenager had I been able to so effortlessly go from climax to renewed, raging, full-on hard-on in that space of time. I grabbed hold of Erica’s tits as she sucked on my cock, still unable to fully understand Paul’s delight in eating his wife out when her pussy was full of another man’s cum, but at that moment, anything went.

Erica began to wriggle on the table. She extricated herself from both our attentions and manoeuvred herself so that she had her knees on the floor, her torso flat over the coffee table. “It’s about time you fucked me, husband of mine.”

Paul went round behind her, and Erica cried, “Yeah! Oh give it to me hard!” as he penetrated her. He began thrusting, grinning at me as he did so.

I stood there a little stupidly, holding my stiff cock as I stared at the couple. Erica turned to look at me with licentious eyes. “What are you waiting for?” she said. “I love burning the candle at both ends.”

No further invitation was needed. In an instant I was grabbing fistfuls of dark hair. Erica was moaning open-mouthed with every thrust her husband gave her. I aimed my cock, and she angled her head to accept it, clamping her lips round it with a deep, lusty groan.

I locked eyes with Paul as we stood there, working our cocks in his wife. Erica moaned and groaned, damp soundwaves rising from her twice-skewered body. “She loves having two cocks inside her,” Paul informed me. “Any combination works for her.”

I looked down at Erica’s face. She seemed amused to be spoken of in this way. That only made me more worked up. I twisted her hair round my hands, pulling her down on me as I fucked her mouth. Paul had picked up a steady rhythm, and Erica was more or less powerless as we spitroasted her.

“You want to cum, babe?” Paul said.

“Mmm-hmmm,” Erica managed, with her mouth full of my cock.

“Why don’t you take over back here?” John asked, grinning at me.

I had no idea what he was after, but I wasn’t about to complain. I pulled out of Erica’s mouth and walked round the table, as Paul sank down behind his wife. “Oh yeah!” Erica gasped as she felt my cock against her labia. “Fuck me till I cum!”

She gave an almighty groan as I penetrated her. Below me, Paul struggled into position, managing somehow to get his tongue onto his wife’s clit. “Oh!” Erica gasped. “Make me cum, guys! I need to cum!”

I thrust my cock into her, far too worked up to be concerned that Paul could easily have flicked his tongue out to lick my cock. I’m sure he would have liked to do something of the kind, but he respected my limits, and in any case, it didn’t take long for Erica to start hyperventilating.

Then she was beating her fist on the table. “Aaaaah! Ooooooh! Aaaaaah!” I just kept on thrusting as she climaxed, only stopping when she cried out, “No more! Please! I can’t take anymore!”

I stepped back, and Paul followed, getting to his feet. “You’d better be able to take some more,” he said, winking at me. “There are two guys behind you with big hard cocks.”

“Just give me a moment,” Erica breathed.

Paul and I helped her off the table. We ended up on the sofa with Erica between us. Paul fondled his wife’s right breast, and I followed suit with the left. The man looked across at me and grinned, “So what do you want next, John? Tits, mouth, ass or cunt?”

I think I just gaped. “Don’t be shy,” Erica said. “Take your pick. You’re our guest, and hospitality is my speciality.” She seemed to be recovering fast. She seemed amused by how taken aback I was. Her eyes sparkled behind her glasses.

“Tits, mouth, ass or cunt,” Paul repeated. “Where do you want to stick your cock next?”

Since they were offering, there was really only the one answer. There was only one thing that Catherine felt so nervous about we’d never done it. “You mean you do anal?” I said.

“That’s ass then,” Erica said, turning to her husband. “That leaves you with a choice of tits, mouth or cunt.”

“Cunt,” Paul said without a moment’s hesitation. “After all, it’s what my lady love is hoping for, right?”

Erica didn’t answer, not directly. “You’d better go and get the lube,” she said.

With Paul gone for the moment, Erica laid a hand on my thigh. I reciprocated. “You’ve never done anything like this before, have you?” she asked.

“Is it that obvious?”

“It’s not a criticism. You’ve been great so far.”

“That’s a relief.”

Erica smiled. “Paul and I have been doing this for years. You get a feel for who’s going to be just the person you want. Paul knew the moment he met you.”

“I’m flattered.”

“And now you want my ass?”

I nodded, not knowing what to say. I knew I’d chosen it because it was the one thing I’d never get to do with Catherine, but I didn’t want to go there.

Erica seemed to guess what I was thinking. “Is your wife not interested in the kinky stuff?”

I thought about the video from Catherine that was no doubt waiting in my inbox. “We’re getting there,” I said.

“Be warned,” Erica said. “Once a woman gets a taste for two men at once, she never goes back.”

“I’ll bear that in mind,” I said, thinking that I could just imagine Catherine’s response if I suggested that we bring someone else into the bedroom.

Fortunately, Erica suddenly changed tack. “Paul’s taking his time,” she said. “And I’m getting restless.” She slid off the sofa and turned, kneeling on the floor, leaning forwards. “I know it’s my ass you want,” she said. “But why don’t I warm you up between my boobs?”

Some offers are just too good to resist. Within seconds Erica’s small hillocks were wrapped round my cock. I reached out to maul them, rubbing my thumbs across the massive nipples, delighting in the feel of soft flesh round my aching manhood. Erica took over, massaging my cock with her tits in a way I’d never even considered possible.

I was groaning out loud when Paul’s voice suddenly rang out. “So you two couldn’t wait!” He sounded more amused than put out.

Erica turned, still on her knees. “Sorry, my lord and master,” she said good-humouredly. “It was me. You know how I can’t resist a hard cock!” Then she opened her mouth wide and tilted her head back.

Paul was carrying a tube of lube, which he placed on the table. His cock was at full strength. Perhaps he’d been standing watching us. He stood in front of Erica, placed one hand on the back of her head and guided his rod into her mouth with the other. Erica’s lips closed and she began to hum as Paul fed her his meat. I grabbed hold of my cock, wanking as I watched.

Erica reached down with one hand and began rubbing her own pussy as she slurped in a slightly exaggerated way on Paul’s cock. Her free hand was suddenly beckoning to me.

I got up to stand next to Paul. Erica was touching herself while making a grab for my cock. Paul released her so that she could turn her attentions to me. Her tongue was suddenly all over me, then her lips as she sucked greedily, moaning lightly as she did so. When her lips came off me, she gasped out loud, “I love sucking cock! The more the merrier!”

“I think she means she wants us both in her mouth at once,” Paul clarified.

I’d never heard of such a thing, but Erica was holding her mouth wide open, and there was a twinkle behind her glasses. “After you,” Paul said.

I reinserted my cock in Erica’s mouth. In an instant, Paul had moved in too. I suppose it should have felt strange, my cock up against another man’s, but I was far too taken with how wildly enthusiastic Erica was. There wasn’t much room for movement, but Paul was pushing on the back of his wife’s head again, and she was moaning at the back of her throat. There was saliva now, drooling from Erica’s mouth. She didn’t seem to care, concentrating on rubbing her pussy as two men stretched her mouth out with their cocks.

This was the filthiest thing I had ever experienced. I tried to imagine Catherine doing it, but knew I would have no idea how to even put the idea of introducing another man into our bed to her. Instead I focused on the minute thrusts that were possible with my cock rubbing up against Paul’s, utterly taken with how Erica seemed to be in her element. She let out a long, shameless moan and brought both hands into play, removing our cocks from her mouth and wanking them against her cheeks. “I think it’s time you saw to my other holes,” she said.

Paul immediately sat down in the middle of the sofa. Erica winked at me before turning and climbing on top of her husband, straddling him and leaning forward. Paul held his stiff cock upright for Erica to lower herself onto. She placed her hands on the back of the sofa and sank all the way down on Paul. I watched his cock disappear all the way up her, but more than anything, my eyes were fixed on her arse, not least when Paul reached round to grab his wife’s buttocks and spread them, giving me a delicious view of her rosebud. “Don’t keep the lady waiting,” he said. “Just make sure she’s well-oiled.”

I couldn’t believe this was happening, but this was no time to marvel at such things. I grabbed the tube from the table and squeezed a generous helping over Erica’s tight anus. “Stick a finger in there,” Paul instructed.

This was something I had done with Catherine, albeit rarely, and only when she was extraordinarily turned on. Knowing that I was about to slide my cock into that hole made it many times more exciting. Erica sat very still on her husband’s big cock, which I could feel through the thin membrane as I wriggled my finger in her bum. I rather fancy Paul enjoyed that.

“Open me up some more,” Erica breathed. “Give me two fingers.”

Mindful of Paul’s words, I applied more lube, probably more than was necessary. There seemed to be oil everywhere, making Erica very slick as I pushed two fingers past her sphincter, feeling how tight she was, my head swimming at the thought that soon, I would have my cock in there. I moved my hand, finger fucking Erica’s anus, feeling Paul begin to push up. Adrenalin began to rush through me. I wanted that arse, and I wanted it now.

I slathered lube all over my erection. I was big and hard and had to remind myself that a little decorum might be in order. “Are you ready?” I asked, sliding my big bulb in between Erica’s buttocks, where oil made it slip and slide effortlessly.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Erica answered.

I pushed my cock head up against her rosebud, feeling a thrill like never before. I grabbed hold of her, sensing tension as her sphincter yielded to pressure. Then, as I pushed further inside, she gave a loud, lusty moan.

I pushed on, determined to bury every inch of my cock in there. Erica kept on moaning as Paul thrust upwards. I could easily feel him through the thin membrane.

Buried to the hilt, I held still, just to delight in the sensation of Erica’s tight anus clutching at my cock. “That is sensational,” I murmured. Paul was still moving underneath his wife, and now I joined him, slowly pulling back and pushing in, unsure of how fast it was wise to go. “Oh!” Erica gasped. “Oh yes!”

As if this wasn’t enough to encourage me, Paul said, “You can go faster if you like. It’s not like it’s her first time.” I took his advice and upped the pace. His hands were still there on her buttocks, as if he was holding his wife open for me. “Isn’t that a fucking amazing ass?” Paul went on.

“Fucking amazing,” I agreed. I was speeding up by instinct, my cock sliding to and fro in that tight passage. I realised that Paul was pushing down on his wife, his thrusts intensifying. “Aaaah! Mmmmmm!” Erica moaned. This only served to spur me on. Suddenly I was fucking her arse harder than I knew.

“Yes! Yes!” Erica cried. “Fill me right up with your big cocks!” She was bent right over, shoving her tits into her husband’s face. Everything was suddenly a blur of demented, frenzied fucking. Erica was crying out with delight as we worked our cocks inside her. I’d never shared a woman with anyone like this, but it wasn’t hard to find a rhythm, our two cocks working in tandem, separated only by the thin membrane, Erica sandwiched between us like a piece of fuck meat.

I know how that sounds, but really, if you’d heard the way Erica moaned and groaned and cried, “Yes! Yes! Fuck my holes! Fuck me good!” you’d understand. I’d never experienced anything like it, and I never have since. I don’t even know quite how long Paul and I kept up our shafting of his wife. All I know is that it was delicious and depraved and that I never wanted to have to stop. In a brief moment of madness I wanted to move in with them and share Erica with Paul every night.

Sheer madness, but with the two of us thrusting our hard cocks into Erica, and her seemingly unable to get enough, virtually every thought was destined to be completely mad and irrational. It felt as if things had to go on forever, which of course they couldn’t. “Are you gonna cum in me?” Erica gasped.

“Do you want us to?” Paul teased, but he was about to anyway.

“Yes please!” Erica said.

Paul was already grunting. I felt his cock twitch as he spurted inside his wife’s pussy. That triggered me too, and I was soon spasming inside Erica’s tight arsehole. “Yes, oh yes!” Erica cried.

After we’d delivered our loads, Erica slumped on the sofa, our cum leaking out of her dual orifices. “You’d better make me cum now,” she told us.

“Suck on her tits, John!” Paul instructed.

I did as I was told, grabbing hold of Erica’s super sexy mammaries and kneading them while I slashed at her nipples with my tongue. Glancing down I could see Paul with two fingers up his wife’s arse, his thumb in her pussy and his tongue on her clit. “Make me cum!” Erica breathed, please make me cum!

I turned my attention away from Paul to suck one of Erica’s glorious nipples into my mouth. Her body heaved and I shoved my face in between her tits, pushing them against me as if I was trying to smother myself with them. Whatever Paul was doing was bringing Erica to the boil. I came up for air, rolling Erica’s nipples between my fingers. She arched her body. “Yes!” she breathed. “Yes! Yes! Yes!”

Then there were no more words, just orgasmic stutters as her body tensed and shook intensely.

Afterwards we had another drink and conversed for an age before it was time for me to go. It remains my one and only extramarital bit of nookie, if you discount the strange circumstances of the bukkake.

Do I regret it? It would probably reflect well on me if I said that I did, but I can’t. It was the most extraordinary sex I’ve ever had, and since Paul and Erica made it clear that I’m welcome over for “dinner” any time I’m in Toronto, I can’t guarantee it wouldn’t happen again. In fact, if I ever had cause to go back, it would definitely happen again; not because I’m in any way dissatisfied with Catherine, who any man would be happy to have as a wife, but because there was something extraordinary about Paul and Erica and the whole situation which remains irresistible to me.

So I know that these things happen, and if I appear a little too relaxed about the anonymous e-mail, then perhaps it’s because I’m determined to be adult about things, whatever the truth of the matter. It’s not easy for Catherine, me gadding about the globe on a regular basis. I know that she loves me, just as I love her. I’m not going to throw a perfectly happy marriage away because of some minor indiscretion. Tomorrow morning there’ll be a new video from her, and I’ll be reminded yet again of just what a fantastic wife I have.

The next morning there is indeed a new clip from Catherine, but in my extra private inbox there is also a message from Chase I. Tyturp. “HERE’S YOUR PROOF!” There’s a zip-file attached. I scan it for viruses before opening. It’s a video. I play it.

It’s a very poor quality video. It’s taken in woodland of some sort, and I can tell that whoever has shot the video has been far enough away to have had to zoom in. In fact the clip is so grainy that if I hadn’t been alerted to the woman leaning out of the Blue Renault being Catherine, I might not have recognized her at all. Just to make sure, I find a sequence where the car’s registration plate is showing, and manage to make out the letters and numbers. Yes, it’s Catherine’s car.

The man I don’t recognize at all. He looks young and he’s in a suit; that’s all I can make out. Well, that and Catherine appearing very happy to suck his cock and finish him off between her breasts.

As happy as I am to overlook an indiscretion, the situation still requires action. I send a reply to Chase I. Tyturp. “Very poor quality. Can’t be sure it is my wife. Do you have any other evidence?”

I will watch and wait.