A Slutwife Story From The Female Perspective free porn video

Wife story with female POV (If you know who wrote it..pleeease let me know).

Wife, mother, career woman, suburban homemaker -- that's all 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 d****s 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, cockteasing 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. 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" -- too "big-boned" 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, that 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 phonecall 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 were 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. I couldn't close my mouth!"

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!