Soul Sistah
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Sex With A Sistah free porn video
Friday afternoon, and, wanting wanted to surprise her husband Dan, Amy arrived home early. His car in the driveway, she parked and entered through the garage. About to call for him, she heard grunting noises. She turned toward the basement. Cleaning seemed unlikely.
Quietly, she crept down the stairs to the rec room. TV off, sofa unoccupied, lights—almost off. Peering around the corner, she saw Dan, in profile, standing at the end bar, his pants riding his ankles. On the counter top lay a magazine—his left hand flipping pages, his right stroking his cock.
Shocked and embarrassed to have caught him, Amy's face flushed and her chest tightened. Though they had never talked about self-satisfaction, she assumed—like all guys—he indulged. Unsure whether to confront him or ignore him, the flush from her cheeks spread like wildfire. blood boiling, her nipples hardened and her breath shortened. An urgent tingle radiated from her panties.
Staring at Dan, she slipped her hand under her skirt and between her legs. The heat throbbed in her palm; her heart thudded. With a scissor motion, one finger lifted the elastic edge of her undies while the other crawled through her underbrush. Able neither to avert her gaze nor to understand the attraction, Amy pressed three fingers on the point of no return. A little shiver and she rubbed clockwise. With increasing urgency, Dan flipped the pages. His private show made her wet.
Riveted by his unwitting performance and fascinated by her own arousal, she escalated. Hammer-like fist, he pounded himself, his face contorted. The more he played, the hotter she got. Pre-climax tension built.
His breath harsh, his fist a blur, his arm looked disjointed. Posture curved forward, he jerked his head back with a grimace. A moment of panic as Amy thought he noticed her, but focused only on emptying his mind. His stokes became choppy and awkward.
Bracing herself against the wall, she worked faster—with both hands, two fingers inside, the other furiously massaging her nub. She felt the heat and tension building, like a wave about to crash on shore.
Cords in his neck strained. His arm stuttered and he looked down—maybe at the magazine, maybe at his seed slopping on the floor, maybe at both.
From the stairs, she heard his satisfied sigh.
A flutter and shudder, weakness possessed Amy's knees. She held the railing and caught her balance—stuffed her panties into her purse. Still unsteady, she slipped out to the driveway.
A trio of anger, jealousy and arousal played a smoky jazz in her head. Anger's solo bass strummed: "he's hiding something from me." Jealousy's alto sax wailed the insecurity blues: "what do the magazine girls have that I haven't got?" Arousal's slow Spanish guitar mocked the others. Surreptitiously watching him approach his own orgasm was intoxicating. Embers beneath her skirt reignited.
For the second time, Amy entered the house. "Hello! Hello!" She banged the back door shut. A stop at the sink—she washed her hands with dish soap.
From the rec room Dan stepped into the kitchen, his breath more ragged than climbing the stairs would warrant; a light sheen of perspiration covered his forehead. "Hey Baby. You're home early."
"A little. What were you doing downstairs?" With a straight face she smirked to herself, waiting for the lie.
"Downstairs?"
Repeat the question to buy time, she thought. Good tactic. "That's where you were, right?"
"Um."
Busted. Huh. Catch and release. "Why don't you make me a cocktail?"
* * *
Monday, after Dan left for work Amy worked her plan. She called in sick and hurried to the basement, searching for his porn stash. She stood behind the bar. Think like a man. He'd want it handy, but not someplace I would accidentally find it. Twenty-two minutes later and on her hands and knees, she peered into the shadows behind the wine on the bottom shelf. Though initially she saw nothing, as a hiding place, behind the bottles seemed possible. Her hand over the top and blindly groping, something crinkled. An hour later she had an eight inch stack of magazines and at least 20 DVDs.
Shock compounded up as she sifted through the pile. Based upon the dates Dan's collection spanned over a decade of diversity. Fat chicks, skinny chicks, chicks who climbed on rocks, tough chicks, sissy boys and even ones with monster cocks. Amy spread a couple on the bar and flipped the pages, her mouth open like a barn door. The smörgåsbord of porn boggled and educated her. After ninety minutes of perusing, she settled on a magazine featuring threesomes.
Her mind and body hummed with tension and begged for release. How though? Standing here like Dan? She thought a moment and figured that he had a good position with a wide, flat surface on which to place the magazines. She wondered: how she should stand? What light should be on? How did Dan handle all the details?
Her body screamed: enough fucking around! Amy stripped naked. She worried about nothing except getting off. Flipping the pages with one hand, she masturbated with the other. At the end of the magazine, frustrated and tired, she could barely stand. Despite the hour and that she had skipped breakfast, Amy poured herself a triple port. Gone in two gulps, she poured another. Without looking, she grabbed a DVD. Knees thickened, head scrambled from the drink, Amy weaved across the room. Movie in the player, she slumped into the couch.
On the large flat-screen a maid watched the lady of the house get laid by a man who, according to the story, was not her husband.
Wet, Amy squirmed, not caring if she left spots on the cushions. Another gulp and half the port disappeared. Heavily buzzed, she and placed her hand between her thighs. Cheap rhythm guitar accompanied by a floozy bass failed to drown the screaming mistress.
Close-ups of the stud sawing the lady in half with his foot-long rocked Amy's pulse. When the maid knelt behind him and sucked his balls Amy lost control. Soon enough came the money shot: maid's face attached to his sack, gobs flew—a bulls-eye on the wife's tramp stamp. His after-shots dribbled into the hair and on the eyes of the maid.
Scenes continued—more people, different shapes, sizes, colors, positions, manner of dress or undress. Only two aroused her: The first: a couple, naked on a beach, fucked unabashedly before a crowd of onlookers. The second: a man hid in a closet and spied on his wife and a stranger fucking while he masturbated. Fascinated she gaped at the TV still but for her oscillating hand ferociously massaging, rubbing and finger-fucking herself. As the camera filmed the husband's jiz spilling to the carpet and spreading all over his fingers, Amy climaxed.
Hard, heavy, body racking, breath stopping—dizzy, she laid on her side.
What intrigued her, what disturbed her, what rocked her self-image was her intense hunger for more. The need to view corkscrewed through every fiber. Her mind swam, focused and she gasped.
She was a voyeur.
Morning and midday disappeared in a fog of port and porn. Drained and drunk, Amy fell asleep on the couch.
At 2:53 she awoke, naked but for a fleece throw—37 minutes before Dan would arrive home. Plenty of time, she thought skipping to the final scene. The blanket was soft against her skin. Amy put one foot on the coffee table as she spread her sore thighs wide open. The stretch seemed to ease the ache. Volume down—the cheesy sound track no doubt mixed by a hooker moonlighting as a dental hygienist.
The big screen popped at her. Now, the stud sat in the corner, chained to a chair and masturbating. His lithe, blond wife cuckolded him with a black guy wearing a chauffeur’s cap and endowed like an Ivy League trust fund. Amy's hand moved faster as her pulse raced. Close ups showed her teasing the uncut monster with her mouth and the husband's shame. When the chauffeur’s slapped the wife's cheeks with his pulsing and expanding cock, Amy frigged herself faster. With her lips, the wife pulled the heavy black foreskin between her teeth and gnawed. Dual sensations of pleasure and pain elicited a guttural growl. A closer shot. Wife tugged at the foreskin, shaking her head like a dog with a towel. Reaching down, he grabbed both her nipples, pinched hard and pulled. She squealed and released him. The pulsing black head emerged, like the knob on a stick-shift, glistening, and poked her in the eye, smearing her makeup.
Amy could barely breathe, her elbow ached.
The camera cut to the cuckold in the corner—masturbating furiously, tears in his eyes.
In a swift move, the chauffeur flipped her over—face down, ass up. An evil grin crossed the chauffeur’s face as he beat her butt with his engorging monster. Without further ceremony, he impaled and she wailed as his Cyclops meat threatened to split her open.
Amy's peaked and winced, but her hand kept going. Spasms wracked her body and her shoulder and wrist were numb. The last one made her yell and she fell to her side, curled into a fetal position, her palm cupping her sex. Gasping, she lay watching the movie, blinking and trying to get blood back to her brain. At 3:26 she stumbled off the couch and put Dan's porn away. Order didn't matter. What would Dan say anyway?
* * *
Two nights later she sat at Renee's kitchen table, studying her neighbor. More than just friends, they were alumnae sorority sisters—and physical opposites. Dark skinned, short and voluptuous, Renee had a big smile and a big personality.
But even sisterhood had limits.
After her drink, Amy told Renee she had caught Dan.
After her second, she admitted she had found Dan's stash.
She finished the third and placed the wine glass on the table, twirling the bottom of the stem between her fingers. Finally she confessed.
"I was possessed. I couldn't help myself. I couldn't stop. Even when I knew that Dan was on his way, I did it again because that made it more exciting."
Renee poured refills.
She took a gulp of wine. "I'm sick. I have some sort of disease." Her eyes, her voice drifted away "I need an intervention."
"You need a dope slap is what you need." Renee starred hard at Amy. "You're just fucking horny."
"Horny? Dan and I fuck a few times a week."
"Maybe that's not enough if he's jackin' off."
"You're missing the point. I want to see other people fuck."
"Plenty of videos out there. Get a webcam. All sorts of shit on line."
"But it's in my head now. All I can think about is live fucking."
Renee stared.
"Something. Him, in the flesh, just beyond my reach made me … gush."
"Gushed?"
Amy nodded. She paused, wondering if her next statement was a little too personal. "I want to watch Dan fucking."
"Get a mirror. Go to a sex club."
"No." Amy swallowed hard. "Someone else."
Renee arched an eyebrow. She drank.
"I want to watch you fuck Dan."
Renee choked, almost spitting a mouthful of red wine across the room. When she gained her composure, she said, "What?"
"Yesterday. I came seven times just thinking about you two together."
Renee shook her head. "Seven?" She shook her head a second time.
"What's the matter? Dan not good enough for you?"
"Ah, shit, girl. Don't go there. Nothing to do with that. Dan is fine." Her eyes unfocused, she paused, thinking. "Really fine." A bottle of wine tone clouded her voice. Snapping back: "But it would be bad, on so many levels and in so many ways. Bad, bad, bad."
"This image … you and Dan."
"You ain't gonna be happy in the end."
"When you pledged, did your chapter have the freshmen all fuck a couple of guys in front of the house?"
"Of course."
"See? It'll be like our own personal tradition."
"Girl, we ain't ever gonna be friends after."
"Well, if a real friend won't do it for me, maybe I have to find another way."
"You're really set on this, aren't you?"
"Yes."
Arguments and alternatives played out, Renee stared at the table. Athletic and hairy with cool blue eyes, Dan was fine. Had he moved in alone, she would have put the moves for sure … but still. She hated to lose Amy as a friend, but there was no reason for her to lose her husband too. Besides, who knows what kind of skank she's going to come up with for this. "Okay. I'll do it." She sighed reluctantly.
With a sorority smile, Amy clapped.
"Okay. How's it going to happen?"
"Leave it to me."
* * *
Saturday morning Amy pretended to leave the house, instead, she hid in the basement closet with a perfect view of the room. As she predicted, Dan went straight for his porn. She stood at the door, peering through the opening, witness to everything. Four minutes later, the movie started. Dan stripped, sat, and dropped both hands to his crotch.
Her chest tightening with excitement as Renee padded down the stairs. Thick legs bare, her short robe flapped open.
On the screen, some nymph in a sheer string bikini had two guys abusing her with their foot-long fuck-sticks.
Dan masturbated.
u*********sly Amy held her breath, the collision imminent. Thrill zipped up her spine waiting for the exact moment when her friend confronted her husband in his most intimate and exposed position.
Renee stood directly behind him, close enough to reach out and touch. "Wow, bet she's having fun."
First Dan froze as if coronary arrested. Next, he almost killed himself stumbling over the coffee table trying to find his clothes.
Behind the door Amy snickered.
"Don't worry, it's cool. I won't say anything to your wife … unless."
"Unless what?" Nervous as kitten in a kennel, shrinkage revealed his insecurity.
"Well, unless you help me." She opened her robe. "After seeing that," she nodded toward the screen, "I want some too."
He patted the couch. "Sit and enjoy the show."
"I was thinking something a little more … intimate."
Dan gulped. "Like what?"
Renee pointed to him. "You."
She pointed to herself "Me."
She jerked her head at the flat screen. "What's on TV?"
Astounded by the proposition, he tried hard to only look at her face, but failed. Sex with Renee had never crossed his mind—uh, well—except for that one—recurring—dream. Well proportioned, her bubble butt, thick round thighs, torpedo tits and dark nipples made an attractive package.
His cock twitched, rising. He swallowed hard. He wanted to fuck her.
Amy spied from the closet. "Come on damn it! Man up. Make a move!"
"Look, I like you guys. But if you don't knock boots with me, I'm going to have to tell Amy, and you know she ain't gonna be happy.
Finally he acquiesced. "Okay." He tried to sound reluctant. He failed.
"Yes!" Amy pumped her arm and dropped every stitch of clothing to the floor.
"Now, don't say a word." Bad shit if Dan decided to vocalize, tell her she was better than Amy or some other stupid thing. "Seriously. I don't want to hear anything but moans and groans. You talk, the deal is off and I go right to Amy. We clear?"
Dan nodded.
On her knees and between his, Renee slobbered all over his rod, making him moan. Cut, thick and not too long, he was comfortable to suck. His hands caressed her cheeks and roamed through her hair. She sat up and wrapped her soft double-Ds around his cock—something that Amy would never be able to do.
Dan purred.
She smiled and winked.
Three minutes later she stood, forced his knees apart and mounted him.
In the closet, Amy used both hands and tried to be silent. After her fourth orgasm, she realized: with the two of them moaning like zombies, they heard nothing. As she pawed at herself, she imagined Dan inside her, his heft filling her to the verge of discomfort. Another climax rattled her knees and thighs. Pausing, she watched as Dan reached up and fondled the big tits flopping in front of him then grabbed one and began sucking on Renee's nipple like a calf to its mother.
Renee's open mouth and rolling eyes said everything.
Spasm after spasm had Amy's thighs trembling and weak. She seized the door frame and cursed herself for not bringing a bar stool into the closet. Propped against the wall, she continued as Renee bounced up and down.
"Get up and turn around," Dan ordered.
Sideways with every nerve jangling, Amy stared as Renee eagerly grabbed the back of the couch. Her monster brown melons hung and swung. From behind, Dan mounted her, his large white hands digging into her thick dark hips.
As he pressed his thighs against her ass, Dan let loose a loud grunt.
"Say a word and it's over," Renee warned.
Dan pumped and thrust.
Amy rode peak after valley as she viewed Dan, her husband, and her friend Renee fucking in front of her, both of them enjoying it. Compared to this: up close, live, personal, spontaneous, porn sucked. The simultaneous physical and emotional arousal and pleasure and release strained each muscle and stretched every imagination.
The troughs between orgasms became shorter.
Dan was close; Renee was closer.
Her breasts bounced and banged against one another, escalating the sensations of his hands and thighs and cock. She tried to remember this was a favor, not pleasure. Pleasure could lead to desire. Desire would lead to trouble. Renee barked and panted through her climax. The gagging groan was continuous and another orgasm followed. Reaching between her legs, she rubbed herself while Dan continued. His bulb hit her g-spot once, twice and she twisted her face and yelled.
With her next climax, envy flashed, wishing his shaft was making her scream.
And then she peaked again.
Dan's pumping paused.
With a grin, Amy recognized the signs; he was about to cum.
A long low grunt segued into a groan as he pumped a few more times, spurting inside Renee.
Between scenes, the movie's volume dipped—the very moment Amy yelped like a puppy.
Dan stopped and withdrew, still dripping. "You hear that? I think Amy might be back."
"No, I didn't hear anything."
He cocked an ear.
Amy put the crook of her elbow over her mouth muffling any noise. Drained, she could have dropped and slept for hours. But to do this again, appearances would need to be kept. Nothing good would happen if he discovered their deception. Maybe he would be mad at her. Maybe Dan would think he had her consent to fuck other women. Maybe he would want to fuck Renee exclusively and make her watch—from the closet, bound, unable to touch herself. Her pulse quickened. Too much shit to deal with right now. She had to pretend to have been gone. She had to sneak out. She just didn't know how. She had no exit plan.
Kneeling in front of him again, Renee sucked his cock clean.
Dan whimpered and shuttered with pleasure.
"If you don't want your wife to find out, you better shower and wash off the pussy smell."
He needed no convincing.
"I'll let myself out." She slipped into her robe.
Clothes bundled under his arm, Dan raced up the stairs.
Amy and Renee listened as the risers to the second floor creaked.
"So?"
Full-body sore, Amy stumbled out of the closet, barely able to walk but grinning. "Outstanding."
Renee nodded and grinned, floating in post-sex endorphins, happy that her sorority sister was happy. "Are we still friends?"
"More than ever—as long as Dan doesn't find out I set him up, we're solid."
"And if he does?"
Amy smirked. "Who knows?"
Quietly, she crept down the stairs to the rec room. TV off, sofa unoccupied, lights—almost off. Peering around the corner, she saw Dan, in profile, standing at the end bar, his pants riding his ankles. On the counter top lay a magazine—his left hand flipping pages, his right stroking his cock.
Shocked and embarrassed to have caught him, Amy's face flushed and her chest tightened. Though they had never talked about self-satisfaction, she assumed—like all guys—he indulged. Unsure whether to confront him or ignore him, the flush from her cheeks spread like wildfire. blood boiling, her nipples hardened and her breath shortened. An urgent tingle radiated from her panties.
Staring at Dan, she slipped her hand under her skirt and between her legs. The heat throbbed in her palm; her heart thudded. With a scissor motion, one finger lifted the elastic edge of her undies while the other crawled through her underbrush. Able neither to avert her gaze nor to understand the attraction, Amy pressed three fingers on the point of no return. A little shiver and she rubbed clockwise. With increasing urgency, Dan flipped the pages. His private show made her wet.
Riveted by his unwitting performance and fascinated by her own arousal, she escalated. Hammer-like fist, he pounded himself, his face contorted. The more he played, the hotter she got. Pre-climax tension built.
His breath harsh, his fist a blur, his arm looked disjointed. Posture curved forward, he jerked his head back with a grimace. A moment of panic as Amy thought he noticed her, but focused only on emptying his mind. His stokes became choppy and awkward.
Bracing herself against the wall, she worked faster—with both hands, two fingers inside, the other furiously massaging her nub. She felt the heat and tension building, like a wave about to crash on shore.
Cords in his neck strained. His arm stuttered and he looked down—maybe at the magazine, maybe at his seed slopping on the floor, maybe at both.
From the stairs, she heard his satisfied sigh.
A flutter and shudder, weakness possessed Amy's knees. She held the railing and caught her balance—stuffed her panties into her purse. Still unsteady, she slipped out to the driveway.
A trio of anger, jealousy and arousal played a smoky jazz in her head. Anger's solo bass strummed: "he's hiding something from me." Jealousy's alto sax wailed the insecurity blues: "what do the magazine girls have that I haven't got?" Arousal's slow Spanish guitar mocked the others. Surreptitiously watching him approach his own orgasm was intoxicating. Embers beneath her skirt reignited.
For the second time, Amy entered the house. "Hello! Hello!" She banged the back door shut. A stop at the sink—she washed her hands with dish soap.
From the rec room Dan stepped into the kitchen, his breath more ragged than climbing the stairs would warrant; a light sheen of perspiration covered his forehead. "Hey Baby. You're home early."
"A little. What were you doing downstairs?" With a straight face she smirked to herself, waiting for the lie.
"Downstairs?"
Repeat the question to buy time, she thought. Good tactic. "That's where you were, right?"
"Um."
Busted. Huh. Catch and release. "Why don't you make me a cocktail?"
* * *
Monday, after Dan left for work Amy worked her plan. She called in sick and hurried to the basement, searching for his porn stash. She stood behind the bar. Think like a man. He'd want it handy, but not someplace I would accidentally find it. Twenty-two minutes later and on her hands and knees, she peered into the shadows behind the wine on the bottom shelf. Though initially she saw nothing, as a hiding place, behind the bottles seemed possible. Her hand over the top and blindly groping, something crinkled. An hour later she had an eight inch stack of magazines and at least 20 DVDs.
Shock compounded up as she sifted through the pile. Based upon the dates Dan's collection spanned over a decade of diversity. Fat chicks, skinny chicks, chicks who climbed on rocks, tough chicks, sissy boys and even ones with monster cocks. Amy spread a couple on the bar and flipped the pages, her mouth open like a barn door. The smörgåsbord of porn boggled and educated her. After ninety minutes of perusing, she settled on a magazine featuring threesomes.
Her mind and body hummed with tension and begged for release. How though? Standing here like Dan? She thought a moment and figured that he had a good position with a wide, flat surface on which to place the magazines. She wondered: how she should stand? What light should be on? How did Dan handle all the details?
Her body screamed: enough fucking around! Amy stripped naked. She worried about nothing except getting off. Flipping the pages with one hand, she masturbated with the other. At the end of the magazine, frustrated and tired, she could barely stand. Despite the hour and that she had skipped breakfast, Amy poured herself a triple port. Gone in two gulps, she poured another. Without looking, she grabbed a DVD. Knees thickened, head scrambled from the drink, Amy weaved across the room. Movie in the player, she slumped into the couch.
On the large flat-screen a maid watched the lady of the house get laid by a man who, according to the story, was not her husband.
Wet, Amy squirmed, not caring if she left spots on the cushions. Another gulp and half the port disappeared. Heavily buzzed, she and placed her hand between her thighs. Cheap rhythm guitar accompanied by a floozy bass failed to drown the screaming mistress.
Close-ups of the stud sawing the lady in half with his foot-long rocked Amy's pulse. When the maid knelt behind him and sucked his balls Amy lost control. Soon enough came the money shot: maid's face attached to his sack, gobs flew—a bulls-eye on the wife's tramp stamp. His after-shots dribbled into the hair and on the eyes of the maid.
Scenes continued—more people, different shapes, sizes, colors, positions, manner of dress or undress. Only two aroused her: The first: a couple, naked on a beach, fucked unabashedly before a crowd of onlookers. The second: a man hid in a closet and spied on his wife and a stranger fucking while he masturbated. Fascinated she gaped at the TV still but for her oscillating hand ferociously massaging, rubbing and finger-fucking herself. As the camera filmed the husband's jiz spilling to the carpet and spreading all over his fingers, Amy climaxed.
Hard, heavy, body racking, breath stopping—dizzy, she laid on her side.
What intrigued her, what disturbed her, what rocked her self-image was her intense hunger for more. The need to view corkscrewed through every fiber. Her mind swam, focused and she gasped.
She was a voyeur.
Morning and midday disappeared in a fog of port and porn. Drained and drunk, Amy fell asleep on the couch.
At 2:53 she awoke, naked but for a fleece throw—37 minutes before Dan would arrive home. Plenty of time, she thought skipping to the final scene. The blanket was soft against her skin. Amy put one foot on the coffee table as she spread her sore thighs wide open. The stretch seemed to ease the ache. Volume down—the cheesy sound track no doubt mixed by a hooker moonlighting as a dental hygienist.
The big screen popped at her. Now, the stud sat in the corner, chained to a chair and masturbating. His lithe, blond wife cuckolded him with a black guy wearing a chauffeur’s cap and endowed like an Ivy League trust fund. Amy's hand moved faster as her pulse raced. Close ups showed her teasing the uncut monster with her mouth and the husband's shame. When the chauffeur’s slapped the wife's cheeks with his pulsing and expanding cock, Amy frigged herself faster. With her lips, the wife pulled the heavy black foreskin between her teeth and gnawed. Dual sensations of pleasure and pain elicited a guttural growl. A closer shot. Wife tugged at the foreskin, shaking her head like a dog with a towel. Reaching down, he grabbed both her nipples, pinched hard and pulled. She squealed and released him. The pulsing black head emerged, like the knob on a stick-shift, glistening, and poked her in the eye, smearing her makeup.
Amy could barely breathe, her elbow ached.
The camera cut to the cuckold in the corner—masturbating furiously, tears in his eyes.
In a swift move, the chauffeur flipped her over—face down, ass up. An evil grin crossed the chauffeur’s face as he beat her butt with his engorging monster. Without further ceremony, he impaled and she wailed as his Cyclops meat threatened to split her open.
Amy's peaked and winced, but her hand kept going. Spasms wracked her body and her shoulder and wrist were numb. The last one made her yell and she fell to her side, curled into a fetal position, her palm cupping her sex. Gasping, she lay watching the movie, blinking and trying to get blood back to her brain. At 3:26 she stumbled off the couch and put Dan's porn away. Order didn't matter. What would Dan say anyway?
* * *
Two nights later she sat at Renee's kitchen table, studying her neighbor. More than just friends, they were alumnae sorority sisters—and physical opposites. Dark skinned, short and voluptuous, Renee had a big smile and a big personality.
But even sisterhood had limits.
After her drink, Amy told Renee she had caught Dan.
After her second, she admitted she had found Dan's stash.
She finished the third and placed the wine glass on the table, twirling the bottom of the stem between her fingers. Finally she confessed.
"I was possessed. I couldn't help myself. I couldn't stop. Even when I knew that Dan was on his way, I did it again because that made it more exciting."
Renee poured refills.
She took a gulp of wine. "I'm sick. I have some sort of disease." Her eyes, her voice drifted away "I need an intervention."
"You need a dope slap is what you need." Renee starred hard at Amy. "You're just fucking horny."
"Horny? Dan and I fuck a few times a week."
"Maybe that's not enough if he's jackin' off."
"You're missing the point. I want to see other people fuck."
"Plenty of videos out there. Get a webcam. All sorts of shit on line."
"But it's in my head now. All I can think about is live fucking."
Renee stared.
"Something. Him, in the flesh, just beyond my reach made me … gush."
"Gushed?"
Amy nodded. She paused, wondering if her next statement was a little too personal. "I want to watch Dan fucking."
"Get a mirror. Go to a sex club."
"No." Amy swallowed hard. "Someone else."
Renee arched an eyebrow. She drank.
"I want to watch you fuck Dan."
Renee choked, almost spitting a mouthful of red wine across the room. When she gained her composure, she said, "What?"
"Yesterday. I came seven times just thinking about you two together."
Renee shook her head. "Seven?" She shook her head a second time.
"What's the matter? Dan not good enough for you?"
"Ah, shit, girl. Don't go there. Nothing to do with that. Dan is fine." Her eyes unfocused, she paused, thinking. "Really fine." A bottle of wine tone clouded her voice. Snapping back: "But it would be bad, on so many levels and in so many ways. Bad, bad, bad."
"This image … you and Dan."
"You ain't gonna be happy in the end."
"When you pledged, did your chapter have the freshmen all fuck a couple of guys in front of the house?"
"Of course."
"See? It'll be like our own personal tradition."
"Girl, we ain't ever gonna be friends after."
"Well, if a real friend won't do it for me, maybe I have to find another way."
"You're really set on this, aren't you?"
"Yes."
Arguments and alternatives played out, Renee stared at the table. Athletic and hairy with cool blue eyes, Dan was fine. Had he moved in alone, she would have put the moves for sure … but still. She hated to lose Amy as a friend, but there was no reason for her to lose her husband too. Besides, who knows what kind of skank she's going to come up with for this. "Okay. I'll do it." She sighed reluctantly.
With a sorority smile, Amy clapped.
"Okay. How's it going to happen?"
"Leave it to me."
* * *
Saturday morning Amy pretended to leave the house, instead, she hid in the basement closet with a perfect view of the room. As she predicted, Dan went straight for his porn. She stood at the door, peering through the opening, witness to everything. Four minutes later, the movie started. Dan stripped, sat, and dropped both hands to his crotch.
Her chest tightening with excitement as Renee padded down the stairs. Thick legs bare, her short robe flapped open.
On the screen, some nymph in a sheer string bikini had two guys abusing her with their foot-long fuck-sticks.
Dan masturbated.
u*********sly Amy held her breath, the collision imminent. Thrill zipped up her spine waiting for the exact moment when her friend confronted her husband in his most intimate and exposed position.
Renee stood directly behind him, close enough to reach out and touch. "Wow, bet she's having fun."
First Dan froze as if coronary arrested. Next, he almost killed himself stumbling over the coffee table trying to find his clothes.
Behind the door Amy snickered.
"Don't worry, it's cool. I won't say anything to your wife … unless."
"Unless what?" Nervous as kitten in a kennel, shrinkage revealed his insecurity.
"Well, unless you help me." She opened her robe. "After seeing that," she nodded toward the screen, "I want some too."
He patted the couch. "Sit and enjoy the show."
"I was thinking something a little more … intimate."
Dan gulped. "Like what?"
Renee pointed to him. "You."
She pointed to herself "Me."
She jerked her head at the flat screen. "What's on TV?"
Astounded by the proposition, he tried hard to only look at her face, but failed. Sex with Renee had never crossed his mind—uh, well—except for that one—recurring—dream. Well proportioned, her bubble butt, thick round thighs, torpedo tits and dark nipples made an attractive package.
His cock twitched, rising. He swallowed hard. He wanted to fuck her.
Amy spied from the closet. "Come on damn it! Man up. Make a move!"
"Look, I like you guys. But if you don't knock boots with me, I'm going to have to tell Amy, and you know she ain't gonna be happy.
Finally he acquiesced. "Okay." He tried to sound reluctant. He failed.
"Yes!" Amy pumped her arm and dropped every stitch of clothing to the floor.
"Now, don't say a word." Bad shit if Dan decided to vocalize, tell her she was better than Amy or some other stupid thing. "Seriously. I don't want to hear anything but moans and groans. You talk, the deal is off and I go right to Amy. We clear?"
Dan nodded.
On her knees and between his, Renee slobbered all over his rod, making him moan. Cut, thick and not too long, he was comfortable to suck. His hands caressed her cheeks and roamed through her hair. She sat up and wrapped her soft double-Ds around his cock—something that Amy would never be able to do.
Dan purred.
She smiled and winked.
Three minutes later she stood, forced his knees apart and mounted him.
In the closet, Amy used both hands and tried to be silent. After her fourth orgasm, she realized: with the two of them moaning like zombies, they heard nothing. As she pawed at herself, she imagined Dan inside her, his heft filling her to the verge of discomfort. Another climax rattled her knees and thighs. Pausing, she watched as Dan reached up and fondled the big tits flopping in front of him then grabbed one and began sucking on Renee's nipple like a calf to its mother.
Renee's open mouth and rolling eyes said everything.
Spasm after spasm had Amy's thighs trembling and weak. She seized the door frame and cursed herself for not bringing a bar stool into the closet. Propped against the wall, she continued as Renee bounced up and down.
"Get up and turn around," Dan ordered.
Sideways with every nerve jangling, Amy stared as Renee eagerly grabbed the back of the couch. Her monster brown melons hung and swung. From behind, Dan mounted her, his large white hands digging into her thick dark hips.
As he pressed his thighs against her ass, Dan let loose a loud grunt.
"Say a word and it's over," Renee warned.
Dan pumped and thrust.
Amy rode peak after valley as she viewed Dan, her husband, and her friend Renee fucking in front of her, both of them enjoying it. Compared to this: up close, live, personal, spontaneous, porn sucked. The simultaneous physical and emotional arousal and pleasure and release strained each muscle and stretched every imagination.
The troughs between orgasms became shorter.
Dan was close; Renee was closer.
Her breasts bounced and banged against one another, escalating the sensations of his hands and thighs and cock. She tried to remember this was a favor, not pleasure. Pleasure could lead to desire. Desire would lead to trouble. Renee barked and panted through her climax. The gagging groan was continuous and another orgasm followed. Reaching between her legs, she rubbed herself while Dan continued. His bulb hit her g-spot once, twice and she twisted her face and yelled.
With her next climax, envy flashed, wishing his shaft was making her scream.
And then she peaked again.
Dan's pumping paused.
With a grin, Amy recognized the signs; he was about to cum.
A long low grunt segued into a groan as he pumped a few more times, spurting inside Renee.
Between scenes, the movie's volume dipped—the very moment Amy yelped like a puppy.
Dan stopped and withdrew, still dripping. "You hear that? I think Amy might be back."
"No, I didn't hear anything."
He cocked an ear.
Amy put the crook of her elbow over her mouth muffling any noise. Drained, she could have dropped and slept for hours. But to do this again, appearances would need to be kept. Nothing good would happen if he discovered their deception. Maybe he would be mad at her. Maybe Dan would think he had her consent to fuck other women. Maybe he would want to fuck Renee exclusively and make her watch—from the closet, bound, unable to touch herself. Her pulse quickened. Too much shit to deal with right now. She had to pretend to have been gone. She had to sneak out. She just didn't know how. She had no exit plan.
Kneeling in front of him again, Renee sucked his cock clean.
Dan whimpered and shuttered with pleasure.
"If you don't want your wife to find out, you better shower and wash off the pussy smell."
He needed no convincing.
"I'll let myself out." She slipped into her robe.
Clothes bundled under his arm, Dan raced up the stairs.
Amy and Renee listened as the risers to the second floor creaked.
"So?"
Full-body sore, Amy stumbled out of the closet, barely able to walk but grinning. "Outstanding."
Renee nodded and grinned, floating in post-sex endorphins, happy that her sorority sister was happy. "Are we still friends?"
"More than ever—as long as Dan doesn't find out I set him up, we're solid."
"And if he does?"
Amy smirked. "Who knows?"
Dottie
- 04.12.2022
- 12
- 0
