My Wife's Amazing Friends

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Three sex fiends - er...friends.
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My wife of eight years went to Europe for a month with her parents, taking the twins with her. I suggested to Alma she go without them and I'd hire a day nurse but she declined, saying she'd miss them too much, Anyway they were staying in rented houses for a week in Ireland and England, barging for a week in France and then finishing with a week in a house in Munich and intended only traveling out of those bases by day and the occasional over-night trip in their rented vehicle. Thus she was not concerned about being bogged down by over-tired four-year-olds.

She poked me in the stomach and said slyly, "I'm not sure you could be trusted with a day nurse – you'd be coming home for morning and afternoon breaks and long lunches. I grinned, she giggled and the finger wandered down lower and suddenly it was all on.

At last Alma, her sniping mother and grumpy father (two reasons why I was not in the tour party) were off, my darling crying, doing her best to upset the twins.

"The girls will look after you," Alma sobbed and then rushed back to me for another round of kisses, straining the smiles of waiting airline staff with the twins in their care.

"Look, I don't mind if you find a kind, clean bloke occasionally and have it off with him," I said, almost sobbing myself. "I can't image you going more than a week without sex without climbing the wall in frustrated."

"Thank you darling, I don't know what to say."

I said thanks would suffice and she buried her face into my chest in gratitude.

"For God sake, Alma, leave the lazy lump and join us for our holiday to remember," called the sniper.

I made an obscene gesture, making sure my mother-in-law noted it was aimed in her direction.

It had been an early morning departure so I drove straight to work at Shingles, Hogg & Taylor, Financial Investment Consultants. The Shingles is me – Gary Shingles, and Mervyn Hogg is Alma's brother who was responsible when we were at university together to leading his sister to my bed – well, almost. I had to finish the job.

So, 'the girls' had been detailed to look after me – that meant providing me with dinner either at their home or my home or perhaps both, on different nights of course. Whether that meant clearing away and washing up I'd wait to find out. That reminded me to leave out the Hoover somewhere they'd almost stumble over it. If I threw my dirty laundry in the hall they ought to get that message as well.

The 'girls' were Macy with a great ass whose cooking was little short of dog tucker before it even became scraps: Meg who had a great mouth complete with fabulous smile whose cooking specialty appeared to be fish that converted quickly to loose bowel syndrome and faultless Faye who was a master chef, possesses one of those bodies that makes one's eyes pop and is the only person I know, not counting our uncomprehending twins, who laughs at my jokes. Alma should have given me a schedule on who was cooking what and when but all she said was they each had a key to the house.

I awoke at 6:00 to feel someone slipping in bed beside me. It was Meg – I recognized her perfume – and I'd felt warm flesh – a great expanse of it. I explored with a hand and immediately docked on to a very erect nipple. My hand froze in terror – just kidding.

"I hope I'm not too late, I forget to ask Alma what time do you have your morning erection."

"Now," I croaked.

Meg's fingers wriggled down my chest and over my belly. "Ohmigod," she choked.

Within one hundredth of a second, or so it seemed, that beautiful wide mouth of Meg's was around her trophy, slurping away with a disgusting sound. I was in heaven and wished it was just a little lighter so I could witness that glorious smile against the incoming dawn light.

We fucked doggie after I'd sucked a released from Meg but her rutting failed to match her cock-sucking ability. I'd often fancied some of our women at the office were real experts – our toilets are unisex so unexpected meetings and outcomes do occur. But after Meg I learned what it is like being coaxed off by a genius. Sadly, she had to hurry off to cook Daniel's breakfast and ready their young children for the school bus.

Before leaving, Meg invited me to dinner and said I wasn't to bring presents of the children. So I arrived with flowers for her and presents for the kids and poor Daniel looked rather left out until I drew out his favorite Cuban from my jacket pocket.

It was late when Meg showed me out. She backed against the front door, spread her legs and lifted her dress. "Please tongue me; you are the best I've had in years."

Well, being a gentleman when it suits me, I met her request, hoping Daniel wasn't in the shadows beating off.

I kissed Meg who captured my tongue. When I broke free she giggled and said, "Who have you been with; I don't recognize her?"

I laughed heartedly, fired by the liquor, and Daniel emerged from the shadows asking, "What's the joke?"

"Er, we clashed teeth when kissing goodnight," I improvised.

"Huh, it's a wonder she didn't attempt to extract your tonsils with her tongue. Good night, pal."

Next morning I had my dawn erection to myself.

When I arrived home at night marvelous aromas were wafting from the kitchen. There was Faye bending over the hot cooker dressed only in an apron. I am sure had my teeth being dentures, they would have dropped and smashed on the tile floor, swept from my open mouth in a tide of saliva.

I slipped in fingers in between her thighs and they sank deep through a warm nest and on into a swamp. Oh, I almost blew the end off my dick. Of the three friends, I'd always been sure Faye would be the one to have a bald pussy but no, it was covered by a crinkly thatch and smelt divine when I went to work on it.

"Is that you Gary or is it the trash collection man or that 20-year-old from over the fence?"

She was just kidding of course.

"Shove it in, Gary, nothing like a bench fuck when you're hot and sticky over the stove."

She rocked and squeezed me with her internal muscles until I howled like a wolf, signaling a mighty ejaculation. She loved it and came in heaps when I put her tits through the wringer, so to speak.

Lovely dinner too. She ate with me because Arnold had taken the two teenagers to an early evening movie. We fucked Missionary, I helped Faye with the dishes and she then went home – looking well-fed, I thought.

The friends didn't pop around every day, of course. They knew from Alma's calendar what nights I worked late and ate in the city, my two monthly club nights and I was apparently to be left to fend for myself at weekends, which was great. I needed recuperation time.

Useless cook Macy proved to be brainier that what she looked. She bought around dinner for two her mom had cooked.

"What do you want first – sex or to eat?" she asked, pulling down her top and showing me two little apples pretending to be tits. Not being a fusspot I chose sex and that rocketed a smile to her face. "The girls told me you carry a length disproportionate to your height," she whispered, licking her lips as she unzipped me. She said something else but I couldn't hear: her cheeks were bulging.

Her ability to suck cock was on the standard of her cooking; I couldn't believe one of Alma's friends would disappoint me. But she did.

We stripped off after eating. Macy went off for a couple of minutes to return to find me stroking a good length for someone who's just had a three-course dinner. Bossy Macy made me stretch out with a cushion under my back. She then straddled, facing away and I though Reverse Cowgirl as she began backing into me, reaching for me, and dripping onto my thighs. If I forgot to mention it earlier, Macy has a great ass. I looked at is as it came towards me thinking once she docked I might run a couple of fingers up that channel. But surprise: that was the channel Macy had in mind for what was almost pulsating in her hand when I realized her intention.

She worked like a little terrier, grunting, groaning, panting and sweating until she had worked most of it in. After a little breather she rocked a few times and said, "Let's go. I rocked and she bounced, my dick taking some pounding. I reached around, finger fucking her pussy as she smacked above her clit with one hand and attempted to pull a nipple right out of her right apple with her other hand.

She leaned back, mewed and began a series of convulsions that had her face turned purple and send sweat dripping off her chin. I blew of course but doubted if I out-creamed Macy. She went for a full half-minute and when she rolled off me her eyes were glazed and her breathing had almost stopped: the poor darling was almost out cold.

I cleaned her up and when dabbing her face with ice blocks tied in a serviette she smiled and asked, still a little breathless, "Did you like that?"

With great reverence I said, "It's the first time I've ever contributed to a women having an anal orgasm."

She smiled, said she actually had both almost simultaneously, and said that I was such a lovely man.

My God, and I'd dismissed her as the most likely to fall short of a good rut.

On the second Friday Alma was away Macy and Faye gave me the impression they'd mixed up their dates when one was supposed to prepare my dinner. I could tell they were both rather excited, flashing glances at each other and giggling softly. Something was us: oh yes, they couldn't agree who should stay so they both stayed. I'm telling you, when they left three and a half hours later I was left hanging out on the rack to dry. I never thought I'd walk again and felt that my nuts were in the processed of falling to the ground like nuts off a tree, withered and dried,

I crawled through the remainder of the month. I'd lost a stone in weight and my mouth was forever dry and my pour dick looked in need of restoration – probably a total rebuild.

Alma is due home tomorrow, I've just returned from three days in a health clinic with my total system receiving a thorough going over. I've been sprayed with the output of freshly crushed roses, wallowed in a mud bath, bathed in ion stimulated waters, massaged with ostrich feathers and rubbed with magical rejuvenation oils from nine different countries. Ah, of course, not to forget the daily enema.

My main meal of the day was dandelion and lettuce tip salad with a lemon juice and walnut oil dressing plus ten tiny flakes of goat's cheese. I'm fine, brilliant in fact. For the past twelve hours I have been walking around with nothing less than half an erection. My bounce back is about to resume. Poor Alma.

The truth is Alma's friends were amazing and gave their all to ensure I didn't mope in the absence of my wife and two children. I had sex coming out of my ears and I paid the price, but no regrets. Those women were wonderful to me and a bond has now established between me and each one of them which will please Alma because in the past whenever they visited I tended to disappear.

But it's taught me one thing: just what a super amazing mother-wife-lover-housekeeper-shopper-crisis de-fuser Alma really is. I won't ever tell her this but I've also found what a great all-rounder she is at fucking me into happiness.

Well, it was a great month, scary at the end when I felt I was caught up in over-use syndrome but I'm over that and as trite as it may seem, I reckon Alma and I will now move on to establish the greatest platform our kids could wish for: parents who love and appreciate each other, who control their scraps, don't go broke and are on the team for the long haul. I reckon Alma and her friends are turning me into quite a nice guy. Come home Alma!

THE END

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4 Comments
HitchhikerHitchhikerover 17 years ago
What do they want

A nice little story that could have gone further. The title and preamble did seem to promise a longer hotter steamy story.

Anyway nice narrative style.

As for the mostooks if they want perfection, read a paperback. If we were all perfect supper duper writers what sad place this would be?

HitchhikerHitchhikerover 17 years ago
What do they want

A nice little story that could have gone further. The title and preamble did seem to promise a longer hotter steamy story.

Anyway nice narrative style.

As for the mostooks if they want perfection, read a paperback. If we were all perfect supper duper writers what sad place this would be?

Egmont GrigorEgmont Grigorover 17 years agoAuthor
To Insanity from the Author

Thank you for your worthless comment. Have a nice day.

AnonymousAnonymousover 17 years ago
Drivel

Unbelievable drivel. And badly written. Full of mistakes. Get an editor!

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