How my retirement turned out better than I ever could have imagined. A story in four parts
I was secretly thrilled when my firm announced they would be re-structuring. Those who agreed to retire early would be paid handsomely--given a golden parachute. As Executive Vice President for Mergers and Acquisitions I’d been under incredible stress since the recession of 2008. My doctors were sure I’d have huge ulcers if it continued. Even taking Nexium did me no good. I was chewing a bottle of Tums or more every week. There was only one solution—retire and eliminate the stress completely or face an early death. In the end I was given $2.5 million—my annual salary before my bonus, usually in excess of $3 million--spread over five years, with as much as an additional $50,000 a year in matching funds for my 401(k). I would have made the investments anyway, but I appreciated the incentive.
The truth was that I would have retired even without the incentive. I had earned millions and we lived relatively frugally, saving and investing every year until we now had more than thirty-five million in stocks, bonds, and mutual funds. I was 57, and I was ready to relax.
My wife Sandra was a CPA and Chief Financial Officer for a major manufacturer of electrical equipment. She was also given a substantial retirement package. After working for more than thirty years we were retired.
We lived in exclusive Sands Point on the north shore of Nassau County, Long Island. Our large property overlooked Long Island Sound with the Sands Point Golf Club almost next door. Sandra and I had taken the same Long Island RR train from Great Neck into the city every day for work for more than twenty-five years. We would separate with a kiss in Jamaica, Queens—Sandra en route to Long Island City, me to Manhattan. Now the house was for sale and we were looking to leave the area. Our property taxes alone were more than many young couples could earn in a year. We had bought the house more than thirty years ago for the then staggering sum of $450,000. Now we expected to get well more than a million and a half for it. Surprisingly, it sold quickly. The agent told us that the market for “high end” homes had never suffered. The rich were rich, even through recessions.
We relocated to another exclusive community in western North Carolina near Asheville where the weather was better and the taxes were one-tenth what they had been back in Long Island. Sandra and I had visited the Biltmore Estate about ten years ago and we fell in love with the area. Now we would be there to live full-time except when we traveled--something we really enjoyed.
We found a beautiful home, made all the nicer because it was a foreclosure—the builder had gone bankrupt. It had been listed originally for $1,200,000; we bought it for $480,000 with no mortgage, moving in a month later. We were busily unpacking when our doorbell rang. Sandra answered the door, greeting a couple who were our neighbors. “Hi, we’re Frank and Janet. We live two doors down.”
“I’m Sandra and my husband is Robert,” she replied.
“Bob,” I said, approaching the trio and shaking hands with Frank. Sandra was always formal whereas I was usually much less so. We chatted for a while until they invited us to a welcoming party on Saturday night. I was looking forward to meeting our neighbors so we readily agreed before returning to the rigors of moving—unpacking dozens of boxes, stacking dishes in the kitchen cabinets, and placing our private library onto the bookshelves. It was tedious work, but we had plenty of time, after all we were retired.
Saturday evening we walked down the block to the party, a bottle of fine wine in my hand. Frank greeted us at the door. He was a trifle taller than me—I’m six feet three—with a full head of light brown hair that was just turning gray. His shoulders were broad, suggesting a history of involvement in athletics. I learned later that he’d been a tight end in high school and college before wrecking his knee. Now he was restricted to golf and another sport I learned about once we had returned home later that evening. Janet was about five feet eight inches and I guessed about 140 pounds. She was a little chubby, but she was, after all, 52 while Frank was 56. She had a decent body for a woman her age, but not as good as Sandra’s in my opinion. Sandra was five feet nine and thinner than Janet at 135 pounds. Her body was slender, but her breasts were large—C-cups—and still quite firm.
We met many of our new neighbors and I was invited to play golf with several. I was pleased to learn that I was a much lower handicap than Frank despite his brawn. I thought he might hit the ball longer than me, but length is only important if you hit it straight. I thought my short game—pitching and chipping from close in—would be far superior plus I was an excellent putter. All in all I thought we had a great time.
Sandra and I were back home around one and undressing for bed when she really began to talk about the party in earnest. We had just gotten into bed and she was stroking my cock to hardness when she commented, “I bet you’ll never guess what I learned tonight.”
“You’re right. I have no idea.”
“Frank and Janet are swingers!”
“That’s nice. How on Earth did that ever come up?”
“Frank told me and then Janet confirmed it. They’d like to swing with us.”
“WHAT? I can’t believe that. We just met them.”
“Just the same, they want to. I think it might be interesting.”
“You ARE kidding, aren’t you?”
“No, silly. It’s not like cheating. It’s only sex, not love, besides we’d both know about it. We’d both be involved. They asked me about next Saturday night.”
“I don’t believe we’re actually having this discussion. You didn’t agree, did you?”
“Yes, I did. I think it might be fun. It will certainly be different. We’ve been in a bit of a rut recently. We can use a spark in our love life.”
“How could you commit us without even asking me?”
“Simple…I’m sure you can fuck Janet in the ass. It’ll probably be your only opportunity. You know I’m not going to do it. Now, be quiet and kiss me. Then I’ll jerk you off. I’m too tired to fuck tonight…maybe tomorrow, or you can eat me to a couple of orgasms. I know how much you enjoy that. Now lie back.” She ran her talented hands over my throbbing cock. All this talk about sex had gotten me excited even though I had no real interest in anyone other than my wife. My cock throbbed as she ran her hands up and down my shaft. I lay back on the pillow, my eyes unable to focus until I felt my balls contract…and Sandra let go.
“Why? Why did you do that?”
“You know how much I love to tease you. Don’t worry I’ll finish you this time. I promise.” She leaned up to kiss me, her tongue flicking into my mouth as I massaged her firm heavy breasts. She broke the kiss. “Please don’t. I’ll just be frustrated and so will you. I already told you all you’re getting tonight is a hand-job. Tomorrow—we’ll see. I’ll probably be horny by then.” She gave me a quick peck and returned to my cock, this time leaning down to lick the head and drive me crazy with lust. Her hands were sliding up and down at a rapid rate when I grunted and came at last. My ejaculate shot high into the air, landing on my belly. Five times my cock erupted; I was shot when it was over. Sandra wiped me down with a wash cloth before dropping it onto my slippers at the side of the bed. We fell asleep soon thereafter.
The week passed quickly. I tried to talk Sandra out of the Saturday night swinging, but I wasn’t successful. We’d had an adventurous sex life since we had married in our mid-twenties, more than thirty years ago. We tried almost everything, usually with Sandra leading. She tended to be dominant when it came to sex. I wasn’t really submissive, but I wasn’t as daring as she was. She enjoyed practicing bondage on me and we’d had many tease and denial sessions usually lasting an entire weekend before fucking like crazy all Sunday night. I almost always gave her orgasm after orgasm during those wonderful weekends until she had difficulty standing and walking, but she was always able to fuck wildly when they were done.
She ended one attempt to dissuade her with a simple statement, “What do you always say, Robert? You won’t know if you like it until you try it. And, you should know, I’m going even if you don’t.”
“Yeah, I’ve said that, but usually about some new kind of food. I wasn’t talking about sex with almost total strangers.”
“I don’t think it’s fair to change your position now just because you’re uncomfortable. You might like it; if you don’t we won’t do it again. Is that okay?” I could see that I wasn’t going to get what I wanted so I agreed. I could survive one evening—I hoped—and I wasn’t about to let my wife go there alone. We barely knew these people.
Once again, we walked down to meet Frank and Janet. I brought another bottle of wine, unsure what the protocol was for…I didn’t even know what to call it. Sandra rang the bell and Janet answered. I could see that she was ready for a good time. She was wearing an almost transparent blouse and no bra. I could see her heavy breasts—bigger than I had thought and bigger than Sandra’s, for sure. Her skirt barely covered her ass and when she bent over it was obvious that she had omitted panties, as well. On her feet she wore shiny black “Fuck Me” pumps with the longest heels I’d ever seen. She was an eyeful, of that I was certain.
Janet latched onto my arm as she led us into the living room. Frank was lounging on the couch wearing nothing but a robe that was barely covering his crotch. Obviously, he had high expectations, too. I could have slugged him when he hugged and kissed Sandra, pushing his tongue into her mouth. Worse, she welcomed his advances, sitting closely next to him, her hand on his bare leg. I sat in an armchair, thinking that would be safe, but Janet simply sat in my lap, her hand resting on my crotch. Next she started to nibble on my ear.
Only my promises to Sandra prevented me from decking the two of them, grabbing Sandra by the hand and getting the fuck out of there. Instead, I turned my face into Janet’s for our first kiss. I had to admit—it wasn’t bad. She gave me plenty of tongue as she pressed her plump lips into mine. Instinctively, I reached for her breast, sliding my hand under her blouse to tweak her hard nipple. Her hand reached out for my cock, alternatively squeezing and stroking. I heard Frank laughing, “Way to go, Bob. She loves having her tits mauled. Next thing you know she’ll be sucking you right here in front of us. Janet is such a slut, not that Sandra’s far behind her. Are all those stories she told us true? Those tease and denial sessions? The bondage? Excuse us; I just have to find out how kinky she really is.” I saw him rise from the couch pulling Sandra with him. Seconds later they had disappeared down the hall, I assumed to one of the bedrooms.
I continued kissing and groping Janet until she broke the kiss. “C’mon, lover I hear you want to fuck my ass. I’m looking forward to it. It’s one of my favorite things, you know.” She led me in a different direction. Their house was a split ranch with the master bedroom on one side of the living room and kitchen and the other bedrooms opposite. I was surprised when she led me to the master. Seconds later I was naked and she was disrobing. She pulled me into the shower by my hard throbbing cock. It was one of those new ones with multiple sprinklers on three walls and more than big enough for two. She turned on the water and we washed each other, spending an inordinate amount of time on each other’s genitals. My cock was stiffer than stiff. It felt like solid steel. I turned the shower off and led her out to dry off. Again, we dried each other getting more and more familiar with each other’s body.
I thought we were pretty dry when she fell to her knees and began to lick my cock. “I like your cock, Bob. It’s a good size, much bigger than average, but not as big as Frank’s. He always splits me in two when he fucks my ass. I think I’ll be able to handle you much more easily. Shall we?” She hopped up and led me to the bed. It was already turned down. We lay in the middle where we continued to kiss and grope each other. Janet stroked me, but slowly—I was already hard, my dick engorged with blood—until she broke the kiss. “The nightstand,” was all she had to say. I looked and saw some condoms and lube. Reaching over her body, they were in my hand a minute later. She took a condom, removed the wrapper and put it into her mouth. She moved to my cock and unrolled it tightly down my shaft. “I like it from behind, you know—doggie. Do my cunt first, okay?”
I nodded, hating the idea of this, but powerless to stop. I was between her legs leaning on her back when I pushed my cock into her hot cunt. I was surprised how tight she was as she accepted my raging dick. I pumped into her, thankful for the condom. Who knew how many had preceded me? That thought almost made me lose my erection—almost. I poured lube onto her asshole and rubbed it in with my left hand, saving my right to play with her clit once I was seated in her bowel. Her anus readily accepted two fingers then three as I added more and more lube. Janet was groaning with the pleasure my cock was giving her cunt. Her face told the whole story when she turned around to face me. Her eyes were begging me; at that moment there was nothing she wanted more than my cock in her butt. I pulled out of her cunt, ramming home as soon as my fingers left her ass. I had to admit—the feeling was intense. My cock was being squeezed by one of the strongest muscles in the human body. I knew I wouldn’t last long. I was excited by living one of my strongest fantasies, one I knew I’d never get from Sandra. For some reason I felt I had to take care of Janet so I reached around to find and rub her clit. I wiped my hand on the sheet, removing the lube and any shit I thought might be present before leaning forward to, as Frank had so eloquently stated, maul her tits.
Janet’s moans became groans of pleasure and I could tell by her body’s reactions that she was getting close. I pumped her ass harder and faster. Miraculously, we came at almost the exact same instant. Janet fell forward onto the bed with me on her back, my cock still embedded in her ass. She turned around to face me, “That was really incredible, Bob. Thank you for making me cum, too. Frank doesn’t; after he cums I usually have to…well, you know.” I did and, somehow, I felt sorry for Janet. Frank was a bigger asshole than I even dreamed.
I pulled out of her and off her back, allowing her to roll onto her back. She reached up to hold my face, pulling me down for a long sensual kiss. Once again she pushed her tongue into my mouth. Had I met Janet before I was married I would have definitely been interested. Unfortunately, I didn’t. I broke the kiss. “I think we should clean up this bed, don’t you?”
“I suppose so even though that’s Frank’s side. Sometimes I’d like him to suffer a bit. God knows I do my share. Okay, how about you strip while I get some new sheets?” Janet hopped off the other side of the bed so I began to separate the sheets from the blanket and bed, throwing the entire tangled mess into a pillow case. Janet had returned and we worked together to rebuild the bed. Five minutes later we were done and headed back to the shower. That was the first time I noticed how drenched her crotch and thighs were. She saw me looking. “Yeah, it was one hell of an orgasm—one of the best I’ve ever had. Sandra is one lucky woman.” I kissed her cheek and turned on the water. We dressed once we were out and dried. We walked back to the living room to find Sandra and Frank seated on the couch enjoying a glass of wine as Frank ran his hand up and down her naked thigh .
“Ah…here’s the lusty couple. So, what do you say, Bob? Want another go next weekend?”
“Actually…no; I’m not going to tell you it wasn’t good because it was…very good. However, it’s not my thing so—no—we won’t be back for another round or whatever you’d call it.” I removed Frank’s hand from my wife’s leg, took Sandra by the hand and pulled her up from her seat.
Frank started to lunge at me, but Sandra stopped him, “Don’t, Frank….”
“What my lovely wife is trying to tell you is that she’s seen me take much bigger guys than you apart. You see, while you were running around being the big man on campus I was invading Kuwait with the Marines. I was light heavyweight Division boxing champ and I was also an expert at karate, too. I’m a little rusty so it would probably take me as long as thirty seconds to kill you. So, do yourself a favor and stay on the couch. Good night Janet and thank you.” I pulled Sandra out the door.
Sandra lit into me once we were in the street, “Robert, I can’t believe you were so rude to Frank.”
“I wasn’t rude, I was just being direct. He asked a question and I answered it. Now, I don’t want our private lives discussed on the street. Whatever you want to say can wait until we’re home.” I walked faster, practically making Sandra run to keep up with me. Our “discussion” continued once we were in our bedroom.
“Yes, Robert you were rude.”
“Listen Sandra, that man is one of the crudest people I have ever encountered. Really, starting the evening in a robe; couldn’t he even get dressed for five minutes? I said I would try it and I did. Right now I’m going to take a shower. I took one before with Janet and another after with her again. Know why I’m taking another? Because I feel dirty and I’ll probably feel dirty tomorrow, too. The sex was good, even better than good, but the circumstances stunk. We’re not doing that again. That was our deal—right?”
“Right. Do I even get to tell you about Frank?”
“Sure…go ahead if you want to.”
“Well, I’ve always thought your cock was big, but next to Frank it’s—don’t be upset—small. Frank is huge. I’ve never been so stretched like I was with him. He gave me four orgasms just from having his cock in my pussy.”
“That’s nice, but Janet obviously doesn’t feel the same way. She told me that he doesn’t take care of her at all. She masturbates after they have sex. It’s the only way she gets to cum. There are a lot more important things than size, you know.”
“Yes, you’re right. Let’s shower and go to bed.”
I stopped suddenly and turned, “He did use a condom, didn’t he? Because if he didn’t I’m going back there and….”
“Yes, and he was a gentleman about it. I didn’t even have to ask. Okay?” I nodded and we walked into the bathroom to shower again. I felt cleaner, but not clean when we exited. We went to sleep quickly—tomorrow would be another day.
We slept in, rising around ten before going out to brunch—an elegant buffet at an equally elegant restaurant. Then we went home and fucked the afternoon away. That’s the only way to describe it. Sandra was an animal; she was all over me, not that I was complaining because I wasn’t. It was almost enough to convince me to swing again—almost, but not quite. I had tried it and I didn’t like the way I felt when it was done. I had felt dirty and cheap, as though I was an animal having sex instead of a loving human being and husband. Never again. Never again.
I woke up early Wednesday to play golf, my first time with the local Men’s League. I had just tipped the bag drop guy for putting my bag on the cart when I checked my partner’s name—Frank Sturgis. Great! I was paired with Frank. I went in to pay and turned to the range for a warm up when I met Frank at the cart. “Hi, Bob hope you don’t mind, but I asked for you to be on my team this morning. I wanted a chance to talk. In fact, I was wondering if you’d like a little informal bet. How about…winner gets to fuck the loser’s wife?”
“You never give up, do you, Frank? I’m not going to bet because even though I enjoyed Janet immensely Saturday night I have no intention of repeating. I’ve never played this course, but I’m sure I’ll beat you. So, here’s my bet--$100 on the round--net scores to count unless you’d like to make it bigger—500? A grand?”
“Jeez, are you always so competitive?”
“Yeah, I am. That’s how I rose to the top of my profession. That’s how I earned more than five million dollars a year—year after year. What did you do for a living?”
“Uh, not much—my dad owned a big furniture manufacturing plant. They made furniture for a bunch of companies like Thomasville and Bassett. Dad died when I was in college and I sold it. I couldn’t run it and stay in school, could I?” I shook my head in disbelief. Frank was the arch-typical spoiled brat.
“So I guess it’s no bet, eh?” I grabbed a few clubs and walked to the range for my warm up. We were on the first tee forty-five minutes later. Frank teed off first, hitting a long drive that sliced badly on a hole that was a dogleg left. His tee shot landed more 200 yards from the green. I hit a three metal along the left side of the fairway, drawing the ball left around a pond. I was about 125 yards from the hole. Frank’s second shot was well struck, but it sliced again, landing in a greenside bunker. My second landed past the hole and spun back within ten feet. I wound up with a par—a four; Frank with a double bogey six. Even with his handicap applied I was a stroke ahead—my four to his net five.
The next hole was also a dogleg left. His tee shot again sliced, mine was struck solidly about 265 yards, landing in the middle of the fairway as I cut the dogleg. We couldn’t find Frank’s ball. It appeared to be lost in a water hazard so he had to take a penalty stroke. Another double bogey for him and a par for me put me two strokes up after two holes.
I had a typical round for me, shooting a 78, net 73 when my five stroke handicap was included. Frank shot a 99—better than I thought--net 79; he lost to me by six. It was no contest—exactly as I had thought. “Good thing we didn’t bet, Frank. I’d be fucking Janet tonight while you watched. I may not have the equipment you have, but I’ve never had any complaints. I’d never make a bet like that. I view my wife with respect, not as a piece of meat. See you…maybe next week.” I drove away chuckling. Frank was a genuine sap.
I played again on Friday with some of the neighbors and had a great time, returning home around three in the afternoon. Sandra was waiting for me, an evil grin on her face. I had a pretty good idea what that meant—she was going to tease me. “Take your shower, Robert and lie on the bed. I’ll be there in a few minutes. It’s going to be a long weekend for you.” I kissed her, but she turned her head. “No cheating; you’ll get your reward Sunday night—not a second before. Now go!” I showered quickly, anticipating an exciting time with my wife.
Once showered and dried I lay on the bed while Sandra secured me into place using some very familiar leather wrist and ankle cuffs and some ropes around the corner posts of the bed. Sandra spent the next hour or so lightly running her fingers up and down my cock and around the head. It was more than enough to get me excited and keep me there, but I’d never cum from this kind of treatment. After that hour she licked my poor cock slowly and lightly. Again, there was no way I’d cum, but my cock was ready to explode. It was harder than hard. Sandra alternated between my cock and my balls, even taking my sensitive testicles into her mouth and sucking, but she was an expert; she could read me like a favorite book. Any time I got too close she’d just back off and let me cool down.
She got off the bed around 6:30. “I need to get you ready. We’re going out for dinner and I know I can’t trust you not to…so I’m locking you up while we’re out. Of course, you can count on being teased in the restaurant.” She kissed me and moved to her closet, returning with my nemesis, a custom cock cage from Mature Metal. Seconds later an ice pack had shrunk my manhood; it was secured and the key was around her neck. I dressed slowly and we drove into Asheville for dinner. I spent an hour seated next to Sandra while she ran her hand up and down my thigh and across my crotch. Of course, she couldn’t touch my cock, but I’d always found my balls to be unusually accessible while in this cage. They were brought up and forward where she could easily fondle them and frustrate me.
We were back home around ten and I was directed back to the bedroom where I was again tied into place naked on the bed and spread-eagled. This time Sandra took two vibrating eggs, fastening one to the underside of my cock with friction tape, the stuff the doctor uses on my arm when I have to give a sample of my blood. The other egg was fastened between my balls. “Now, Robert, I have some things to do so I’m going to leave you alone for a while. However…I don’t want you to be distracted from what’s going on with your lovely cock and balls. So, I’ve prepared a few things for you to help you concentrate on your situation. She pushed some foam plugs into my ears. Most sounds were deadened, but I could still hear. A silk scarf was tied around my mouth and head. I could still speak, but barely. I wasn’t prepared for what followed—a heavy leather hood. Sandra lifted my head and pulled it down, covering my eyes, ears, and mouth. She made sure the nose holes were in place and I could breathe before zipping the hood tightly around my head. I was completely cut off.
Sandra was chuckling as she left, walking directly to the front door where her guest awaited her. Taking his hand she led Frank to the bedroom doorway. “Holy shit,” he whispered, “It’s really true.”
“There’s no reason to whisper, Frank. He can’t hear a thing. I know—I tried it myself several times. Even if he could there’s nothing he could do. He’s tied in securely. Come on, we don’t have all night.” She turned and led him back down the hall to another bedroom where she stripped and pulled the blanket from the bed. She knelt in front of Frank and opened his slacks and pulled out his huge organ. “I know I’ll never get this monster into my mouth, but I can get it ready.”
“Don’t worry about that, baby—I’m already hot for you.” He ripped his shirt over his head and stepped out of his slacks. He pushed Sandra back onto the bed and climbed between her legs pleased to see how wet she was even without a single touch to her pussy. Frank wasn’t big on foreplay; he rubbed his cock into her once or twice and rammed home, stopping only when he had bottomed out against her cervix. Sandra hurt, but she was also so excited and thrilled to have her cunt stretched so thoroughly—so completely. She had felt so filled only once before—on the evening of their swinging. She rose to meet Frank’s every thrust. Their coupling was brief. Frank hadn’t had any sex since their last time together. Janet was pissed at him, blaming Frank for blowing their chance with Bob and Sandra. Well, fuck her, Frank thought. He would have his cake and eat it, fucking Sandra when Bob played golf or while he was being teased. They had already made arrangements to fuck again tomorrow and on Sunday, too.
Frank blew—filling Sandra’s cunt with his sperm—oh, shit! They’d forgotten to use a condom. Luckily, Sandra was due for her period in three days. However, she couldn’t forget again. Robert would surely see and feel cum leaking down her thigh. Frank leaned heavily on Sandra. The sex hadn’t been as spectacular as the first time, but she did cum—twice, which wasn’t bad. Tomorrow, after Frank had cum tonight would be even better. Yes, she thought--yes indeed.
I was relieved when Sandra returned to free me. Her hair was wet so she had obviously showered while I was going crazy with lust. She locked me up again and shooed me to the bathroom. I was thrilled she had come back when she had. I needed to pee—badly. I was just out of the shower and drying myself off when Sandra continued her teasing—rubbing my ball sac and fingering my asshole. Laughing wildly she kissed my cheek and called me to bed. “You’d better get a good night’s sleep. You have a long day tomorrow.” She kissed me again and rolled over to sleep.
Sandra was right—Saturday was brutal. After breakfast she tied me into the bed again and teased me with a feather and later with a silk scarf, wrapping its smooth folds around my struggling cock. She ran it up and down, driving me wild, but giving me no friction and, obviously, no orgasm. She did take mercy on me briefly, wiping and washing my face. Sweat was running into my eyes completely blurring my vision and burning my eyes. After lunch which she fed me in the bed she brought out the ear plugs, gag, and hood. I cringed when I saw the rope. I knew what was coming next and it wasn’t me.
She doubled the rope and wound it around my waist, pulling the two ends through the loop and bringing them down my ass crack to my crotch. Next she lubed and pushed a thick vibrator into my ass and pulled the rope between my legs, one rope running on either side of my throbbing genitals, and up again to be tied tightly to the rope in front of my waist. Now I had incredible prostate stimulation and no way to expel the cause. Finally, she tied a thin cord around and under my helmet, pulling my cock up over my abdomen, tying again to the waist rope. It wasn’t long before my belly was covered in pre-cum. The ear plugs, scarf gag, and leather hood finished the job. I was stuck in my own world of torment.
Once Robert was safely secured Sandra walked again to the front door, admitting Frank to their home. This time Frank walked straight to the other bedroom where Sandra had made the necessary preparations. Frank lay on the bed while Sandra straddled his hips. Slowly she descended, filling her cunt with Frank’s massive cock meat. Again she bottomed out, punishing her cervix, but not caring—the pain would just remind her of the pleasure she’d had fucking Frank’s huge organ. She controlled the pace to maximize HER pleasure, much to the annoyance of her partner. She experienced three orgasms by the time Frank spurted, this time into a thin Magnum condom which barely was able to stretch around his organ.
Sandra continually came up with new torments for me. However, I was surprised that she did not require me to eat her to orgasm after orgasm as she had in the past. By the time she released me on Sunday evening I was desperate to cum and, as in the past, Sandra did not disappoint. Still tied down she mounted me and rode me to an incredible orgasm. The first time I blew in less than three minutes, depositing what felt like a gallon of cum in her cunt. An hour later I lasted much longer, but the result was the same. I lost control as I spurted over and over into Sandra. I was beat—totally exhausted once the orgasm had subsided. I fell asleep almost immediately.
I recovered from my ordeal over Monday and Tuesday, Sandra making sure I got plenty of hot sex as my reward for enduring the weekend’s rigors. I was sexually drained by the time we went to bed Tuesday night. Wednesday morning I was up early again for the Men’s League. I looked around for Frank and was surprised that he wasn’t playing. I had another good round, shooting a 77. I stayed long enough to have a burger and a beer before heading home, the winner of the low gross and low net scores, each of which was worth a grand total of $10. I clearly wasn’t playing for the money.
I was a bit surprised to find Sandra coming out of the shower when I arrived. “Take your shower, Robert. I’m feeling a bit randy this afternoon.” I rushed the shower, taking enough time to thoroughly clean my cock and balls before joining her in the bedroom, but barely enough time to do much with the rest of my body. Sandra was waiting for me, lounging on the bed and wagging her finger, calling me to her, when I entered the room. I joined her quickly, engaging her in a long and passionate kiss. She flipped me over onto my back and literally sat on my face, encouraging me to lick her tasty slit. I was surprised at the taste—there wasn’t much, at least nothing in comparison to what I’d tasted in the past. She must have done a really good job in the shower. I had no other explanation.
Sandra was breathing heavily when she slid down my body to impale herself on my cock. I was more than ready to fuck my wonderful wife. I knew at that moment that I’d do anything for her—that’s how much I loved her. She bottomed out on my cock and began to rock as I reached up to gently massage her full breasts and tease her nipples and areolas. Sandra leaned down to kiss me as her clit was pounding into my abdomen. I pushed my thumb down my body finding her hard clit in just a second. A quick rub and twist was all it took for her to cum, but I was surprised that it wasn’t more intense. I kept thrusting into her until I felt the rumble in my groin. I lifted her up from the bed every time as I deposited my hot slick semen into her vault six times. We collapsed together into the bed, sweaty but satisfied.
I tried to play golf again on Friday, but had to stop after the third hole due to a nearby thunderstorm. All the golfers were called back to the clubhouse where I picked up a rain check and drove home. I was soaked by the time I got into my car. Water dripped from my clothes as I entered the house. Sandra seemed overly surprised to see me, coming as she was from the small third bedroom. “Robert, you startled me! I wasn’t expecting you, but I guess the storm canceled your plans. Good God, you’re soaking wet. Get into the bathroom now and strip off those clothes. I’ll be in to help you in a minute.”
I slogged down the hall and into our bedroom where I dripped my way to the bathroom. My clothes were in a soggy pile when Sandra joined me a few minutes later. She dried my body with a fluffy towel until I was warm and dry, spending a lot of time on my head and hair. Once dry, she brought the laundry basket from the utility room and threw my clothes into the washer. I dressed in some sweats—I was still chilled from the storm—and made a cup of coffee in our single cup machine. I was reading the newspaper when Sandra sat next to me. “You know,” I began, “I haven’t seen Frank since last week. I thought he always played in the Men’s League, but he didn’t on Wednesday. I hope he’s okay. I really don’t care for him, but I don’t wish him ill.”
“Oh, I’m sure he’s okay…probably just some pressing business.” That started me thinking—what kind of business would Frank have? I didn’t think he had any since college when he had sold his father’s factory. Oh well, maybe he had investments he had to manage.
We managed to complete the unpacking within the next week—at last! I suggested we plan a trip. We loved Hawaii and had been talking about taking an extended trip to China, Japan, and Australia. To my surprise Sandra said she wasn’t all that interested, at least not now, but she did say she’d be interested in teasing me the following weekend. I turned her down; I was still recovering from our last session. Sandra was disappointed and made a point of telling me so.
We did take a day trip to the Biltmore, buying several cases of their wine. We agreed to build a large wine rack and place it in the home office where we had our computer, a desk, and the files I used to store and manage our extensive investments. Luckily, I found a suitable system at a local store that specialized in home storage. We had more than a hundred bottles shortly thereafter.
For reasons I couldn’t fathom Sandra began to lose interest in sex. I didn’t know if it might be the onset of menopause or some other physical reason. Prior to retiring we’d made love four to five times a week, even into our fifties. We never watched TV—we fucked instead. Now that we were retired with all the time in the world we were down to one or two times a week. I had no explanation, but I got one three weeks later.
I returned from golf with the Men’s League on a Wednesday afternoon to find a brief note on the refrigerator—“Robert, see letter on the bed.”
I saw the envelope with Sandra’s handwriting on it—“Robert—Important.” Sitting on the bed I opened and began to read. It was shocking—I was dumbstruck by what I read:
“Robert, you know what a coward I can be. I’m afraid of needles, spiders, and God knows what else. That’s why I’m writing this letter. I can’t tell you this personally—I know I’m not strong enough-- and there’s no easy way to write it either, so I going to come right out and tell you up front. I’ve left you. I couldn’t let go of Frank and his big cock after our night of swinging. We’ve been cheating on you every time you played golf. I thought you would catch us that Friday you came home early because of the rain. Fortunately, I was able to get you into the bedroom so I could sneak Frank out the door.
“I don’t know if I love Frank, but I do know that I am addicted to his cock. I’ve had so many orgasms over the past six weeks that I’ve lost count. I’ve taken my clothes, jewelry, all the cash in our bank accounts (sorry, but I’m sure you will survive until you receive your next paycheck) and my passport. We will have left the country by the time you have read this letter. Please don’t try to follow us. I won’t be coming back. Sandra”
I sat forward, my head in my hands, and I was sure I would have broken down had the doorbell not rung. Janet was on the porch, her eyes red from crying. “Why couldn’t you have just gone along with everything? None of this would have happened if we kept up with the swinging. This is all your fault!”
I stood back to invite her in and led her to the couch; I sat beside her and listened silently. Eventually, I spoke. I was angry, but tried to be calm. “Janet, we both know that none of this is my fault. I’m not responsible for your husband’s lack of morals or because my wife is obviously a bigger slut than I ever imagined. Now, what are you going to do? Can you stay in the house? Do you have enough money?”
“Stay in the house? You’ve got to be kidding. Everything Frank owns is mortgaged to the hilt. The mortgage payments are more than $3000 a month and we have no money. No, I’m going to live with my sister if I can only raise the fare to get there then I’ll find some way to divorce the bastard.” I asked her how much she would need and wrote a check from my personal account--one Sandra wasn’t able to touch.
“I like you, Janet…I really do. I’m sorry all this happened. It wasn’t my fault, but it wasn’t yours either. I hope things work out for you.” I hugged her and she walked down the steps. She was crying again before she had reached the street. I closed the door and returned to the couch. I broke down and bawled like a baby. I could see everything clearly now—the “need” to tease me so frequently, the decrease in her sex drive, why Frank didn’t show up for the Men’s League, even her attitude and behavior on that rain and lightning filled Friday. I felt like shit. I’d been betrayed by the one I trusted most.
I wanted to be alone—alone to deal with my grief, my anger, and my disgust. I canceled out of my Friday foursome and next Wednesday’s Men’s League. I cried a lot—more than a lot—as I wallowed in
self pity. I was in a funk for more than a week when I decided that I wouldn’t allow Sandra and especially not Frank to beat me. It was late Thursday afternoon when I decided I wanted to play golf again. I called the pro shop and asked if they could get me out as a single on Friday morning.
I anticipated that they would be busy, but not as busy as they were. There was only one opening, around 10:00 and with three women. “Any idea what kind of players they are,” I asked.
“I’ve seen two of them on the range and they can hit the ball pretty well. They’ve been playing here for a few years so I think they’re okay. I do know that they’re not slow. We’ve never had a complaint about slow play.”
“Okay, I really want to play so why not?” I decided to go to bed early so I’d be able to get up early and have a good warm up before beginning the round. I went out to dinner after eating nothing but canned food since Sandra’s bomb had struck. I also masturbated for the first time in years once I had returned home so I’d be relaxed the following day. My orgasm was intense after more than a week of denial.
I arrived at the course early, but told the people at the bag drop to load my bag after the women had arrived. This was their tee time—I was just an add-on. Instead I went inside for a quick breakfast before warming up at the range. My bag was loaded and the women were just standing around when I returned. “Hi,” I began, “I’m Bob. Thanks for letting me play with you.” Now, technically, they didn’t really have a choice, but it was the courteous thing to do.
“Hello, I’m Suzanne and this is Lisa and this is Dana.” They extended their hands so I shook with them. Then Suzanne asked the question I knew was coming. “You’re a guy so, I assume you’d like to drive?”
“Actually, it’s been my lifelong ambition to be chauffeured by an attractive woman, so…no…I’m happy to be a passenger.”
Suzanne chuckled adding, “You haven’t seen me drive.” I cringed in mock terror as we drove to the first tee. We shared our first laugh of the day, but not our last. We were at the turn—after finishing the first nine holes—when the question I was dreading came. “Why aren’t you playing with your wife, Bob?”
“Well…that’s a good question. First, she’s never taken a liking to the game. And, second, I have no idea where she is. She took off with one of the neighbors last week because he had a massive…uh…well, I think you know.” They were surprisingly sympathetic. I learned from Suzanne that they were all divorced. They had known each other as kids and through college until they had married only to find that their husbands were all cheaters—just like my wife. Apparently, they made out well in the respective divorces—they had plenty of money. Belonging to the club wasn’t cheap.
I also learned that they were in their mid-thirties which didn’t surprise me. They were all very good looking with more than decent bodies. I don’t mean “decent for women their age.” I meant that their bodies would have stood up favorably against women of any age. I actually had a great time so I asked if I could buy them a drink once we were done. I was pleased when they agreed.
Over drinks I learned even more. They were originally a foursome, but their partner had fallen and broken her hip. She wouldn’t be playing for a minimum of nine months. They asked if I’d like to play again the following Friday. I accepted eagerly.
The following week I was driven by Lisa, a woman with a cute face and short black hair while Suzanne and Dana shared the other cart. They wanted a friendly bet, but I refused. “If we’re going to have a bet we should have two-person teams. I’m clearly the best so I should have the worst player of you three.”
“Suzanne!” Dana and Lisa shouted out together. I chuckled as Suzanne turned a beautiful shade of red. On her it looked good. Of the three I found Suzanne the most appealing. She looked to be about five feet, nine inches tall with a slender body that was capped by delightful breasts—C-cups or bigger in my estimation. Her light brown hair always seemed to be in a pony tail with bangs that came halfway down her forehead, ending only an inch above her inquisitive blue eyes, cute slender nose, and winning smile. “Okay…if you want to bet we can next week, but nothing extreme. The golf should be fun, not something that’s too demanding or serious.” Privately, I was thinking of a blowjob, but publicly I said, “Not more than five dollars for the round. In the end we agreed to the losing team buying a drink for the winners. We were all looking forward to next week’s challenge. I was looking forward to spending time with Suzanne even more.
Yard work has never been my favorite thing to do, but I wasn’t about to hire someone to do a little weeding. I was on my knees when the truck pulled up in front of Frank and Janet’s home. I looked up with curiosity as two guys began to dig two holes in the front yard so I walked down and arrived just as the sign was erected—FORECLOSURE SALE. I guessed Janet wasn’t kidding when she said Frank was broke. I knew that foreclosures took a long time—six months or more, usually more—to complete so they were in trouble long before we moved here. I wondered if this wasn’t part of some weird strategy Frank had when he got involved with my wife.
Suzanne was ready for me the following Friday. She shook my hand and, as an afterthought, gave me a quick hug then we went out and kicked some butt. Suzanne was a high handicap golfer, but on this day she played extremely well, shooting five strokes better than her handicap. I also played well, shooting a below par round of 70. We beat Dana and Lisa who also played well by eight strokes. She actually kissed me when the decision was finalized. We stared into each other’s eyes when we broke it then we went into the restaurant to enjoy our drinks. It was probably the best beer I’d ever had. On the way out I asked Suzanne to dinner. I was thrilled when she agreed and asked her to pick the restaurant. She had lived in the area much longer than I had—what did I know?
She had excellent taste, picking the Red Stag Grill in the Grand Bohemian Hotel, an upscale facility in Asheville. Dinner was great and the company was even better. We went to a club afterwards for drinks and dancing. I held my arms in the traditional position, but she wrapped hers around my neck and moved in close, inviting my arms around her waist. “It’s okay; you can put your hands on my hips and butt. I won’t bite you—not yet, anyway,” she whispered as she kissed my cheek. We danced the night away, dancing slowly even to fast songs. We left around midnight. Thirty minutes later I pulled my Mercedes into her condo complex. We were at her door when I said, “Thanks; I really enjoyed myself. It was the best time I’ve had in…months, maybe longer.”
“Who says we’re done? Come on in. What’s that old joke about the stewardess? Coffee, tea, or me?” She laughed as she led me into her living room, spun around and pulled me into her arms. “Ready to be bitten, Bob?” I turned my head and offered my neck. She laughed and I joined her a moment later. I stopped and looked into her eyes. She joined me for only a second before moving forward, our lips meeting—pressing together with incredible passion—for the first, but hardly the last, time. Suzanne gripped my head, her fingers enmeshed in my hair as her tongue explored my mouth. My arms wrapped around her body, pulling her close to mine, loving the sensation of those firm breasts pressing into my chest. Suzanne broke the kiss after what seemed to be an eternity, smiled and took my hand to lead me to the bedroom.
I stood there like a deer in the headlights as Suzanne undressed me and invited me to reciprocate. I marveled at the smoothness of her skin, the curve of her belly, and the soft curls just above her sex. She laughed at my erection. “I can’t believe that any woman would willingly walk away from that. It must be at least three inches longer than my ex’s and a whole lot thicker, too.” She fell back onto the bed and spread her legs. I recognized the invitation immediately, climbing between them to taste her nectar. I began with her silken thighs, kissing and licking my way to her core. Her labia were next—kissing and nibbling, pulling and pinching—driving her wild with lust. My tongue entered her moist core, driving deep into her womanhood until she could stand no more.
“OH, BOB! FUCK ME! OH GOD, PLEASE FUCK ME, BOB. PLEASE…I NEED YOU NOW!” I entered her, savoring the tightness of her tunnel—the heat of her desire…her need. We moved together slowly at first, her legs wrapped tightly around my waist. We kissed again as our rhythm increased. Frantically, I broke the kiss to suckle at her nipple, but she pulled me back to her hungry mouth. By now we were fucking at a frenetic pace, one we could not sustain for long. Sure enough, I felt her breathing become erratic and shallow, her movements uncoordinated until she suddenly froze and then convulsed wildly as her orgasm reigned over her body. She shook in uncontrolled spasm for several seconds and while she did I blew into her. Over and over I bathed her womb with millions and millions of sperm. I collapsed onto her chest as we kissed tenderly until we came down from our high.
“I know what you’re thinking, Bob—no condom. Don’t worry, I’m very selective and I have an implant here in my arm that makes it impossible for me to conceive.”
“I wasn’t worried; I found the idea somewhat appealing. So, do I get dressed and go home or…?”
“Given my druthers, I choose ‘or.’” She slipped under the blanket and I joined her. We fell asleep quickly in each other’s arms.