Sandy and Sam and Sally and Max

Oh, right, said Sandy to herself, football. See, she wasn't completely dumb, though she was to the extent she didn't even know it wasn't the football season. Sure, it upset her a little to think her husband wanted to masturbate to porn DVDs, but he didn't do it that often and she knew he still loved her. In fact, he'd masturbated to quite a few porn DVDs, but mostly before he'd even met Sandy, so that doesn't count. Since he'd been married this would be only his second time; compared with most men he was pretty well-behaved.

Anyway, the evening came round and Sally and Sandy went to an Italian place with check tablecloths and lots of items on the menu claiming to be made by someone called 'momma'. It was pretty lively and Sally and Sandy almost had to shout at each other to be heard. Their waiter was a good-looking economics student who liked serving two single women because he knew if he flirted with them and made them feel good, they would probably leave a big tip. Even though he doesn't figure at all in this story and we don't care if he's a good or bad person, he genuinely liked serving Sally and Sandy because they were both attractive and laughed a lot and really appreciated the food, and that always makes a waiter's life easier.

"I wouldn't mind finding his cock in my hand," Sally almost shouted in Sandy's ear when they'd finished a bottle of Montepulciano.

"Sally," exclaimed Sandy, trying to look shocked, but actually thinking roughly the same thing, though she wouldn't have put it in those words. "You're incorrigible."

In the car Sandy worried if Sally was fit to drive.

"I've only had a glass," her friend reassured her.

"You mean I drank the rest? No wonder I can't feel my toes."

The rest of the journey was accompanied by lots of giggles and screams of laughter at things that wouldn't seem at all funny if they were written down, so they're not going to be. Instead, we'll skip straight to Sally pulling the car into her driveway.

"We'd best go over to our place," giggled Sandy, putting her finger to her lips. "We don't want to interrupt them."

"Oh no," said Sally. Going over to Sandy's wasn't part of the plan. "I want to sneak another look."

"Do you think we should?" asked Sandy, a nervous thrill creeping into her voice. That's exactly what she'd been thinking too, but she hadn't dared say so. "What if they hear us?"

"Just make sure you don't walk into any furniture," said Sally, putting a steadying arm round her tipsy friend's waist.

In the house they could just hear the sound of women moaning and sighing and so on coming down the hallway from the tv room.

"Men are so disgusting," said Sandy, because a bit of her had half expected her husband and Max really to be watching football.

"Yes," said Sally. "Let's go and see just how disgusting."

They tiptoed down the hallway and Sally peeped round the half-open door. Sure enough there were Max and Sam sitting on the couch with their pants round their ankles and their big stiff cocks in their hands, plainly enjoying whatever was on the tv. Sally had a good look then beckoned her friend to have a peep. Sandy wasn't sure if she should, but she was a little tipsy and her curiosity soon got the better of her scruples. After all, she'd only got a quick glimpse of them the other night and she thought she ought to take a longer look this time if only to make sure she'd really seen what she thought she had.

She bent down a little so she could get a good look round the door. The sight of her husband and Max slowly stroking their big cocks instantly had her transfixed. She couldn't take her eyes off them, particularly Max's, which was so unlike her husband's - not bigger or thicker, just different and therefore fascinating, particularly being all red and stiff like that and with Max's hand slowly covering and uncovering the smooth shiny head. She became instantly hot, which could have been the bottle of Montepulciano, but I doubt it. What made her so hot was the thought of herself touching Max's cock, slowly and lazily just like he was doing.

"I want to be doing that," whispered Sally, putting into words exactly what Sandy was thinking.

Sandy couldn't say anything, so mesmerised was she by the scene.

"In fact," added Sally, pretty excited herself, now she'd reached a critical moment in her plan, "I'm going to."

"No!" hissed Sandy desperately. "You can't!"

"Just watch me. What's the harm? We're just joining in their fun."

"What do you mean, we?" hissed Sandy even more desperately. "I'm not going in there. I'm going home."

"Suit yourself," shrugged Sally, "but I'm going to tell them you were here and saw them too."

This was a pretty mean threat, because it meant that not only would Sam think his wife was spying on him, but also that he'd probably think she was a prude too, which was one of Sandy's big fears. But she couldn't go in there, not with their cocks out and all those naked women on the tv and everything. She just couldn't.

Sally guessed what was going through her friend's mind and felt a twinge of sympathy. She didn't want to hurt Sandy, she just wanted her to have a bit more fun and sometimes, she thought, you have to be cruel to be kind. Which was a pretty condescending thought, but there you go. On the other hand, Sandy didn't run down the hallway and out of the house like she was perfectly free to do. She just stood there. So maybe Sally knew her friend better than Sandy knew herself.

"I'm going in," she whispered again. "Are you coming?"

Sandy shook her head. She just couldn't.

The next thing she knew Sally had thrown the door wide and marched in. "So this is what you two get up to when we girls are away."

Sandy nearly died. She couldn't see what the men looked like in the act of discovery because she didn't dare look, but she imagined they'd be desperately pulling up their pants and trying to stuff their cocks away as quickly as possible, their faces pictures of embarrassment and shame. Actually, that was pretty much how Sam reacted, but Max hardly twitched.

"Hell, caught us in the act," he said with a smile Sandy couldn't see. "You'd better come and join us, honey."

"That's what I intend to do," came Sally's voice. "Make room."

Then Sandy heard her say, "No, don't go, Sam. I hate to interrupt a man when he's enjoying himself."

At which point Sandy couldn't bear not to see what was going on, so she peeped in. There was Sally sitting next to Max, already with her hand on his cock, and there was Sam sitting not much more than a couple of feet from her with his pants half up but his cock still completely visible, though now a little deflated. I'm not surprised, thought Sandy.

"Where's Sandy?" he asked. "Has she gone home?"

"Oh, she's here too," smiled Sally, "but she's too shy to come in."

Oh no, thought Sandy, ducking out of sight.

"I should take her home," said Sam, wondering what the hell he was going to say to her. How was he supposed to explain jacking off to porn DVDs?

"You stay here," said Sally. "Come on, Sandy," she called out. "Don't hide out there. Your husband knows you've seen him, so what's the point?"

Sandy nearly died - again. She didn't know what to do. She couldn't go in. She didn't know what would happen to her if she did, but she was sure it would be something terrible. On the other hand, she couldn't just stand out there like a little kid while everybody made fun of her and thought she was being a prude. They couldn't make her do anything she didn't want to, could they? Maybe she could just go in, whisper to Sam to put it away, then they could just go home. Yes, that's what she'd do.

So she put on a brave face and walked in the room - a little unsteadily, unfortunately, because of the Montepulciano, but she didn't hit any of the furniture.

"Hi boys," she said, in a casual voice that fooled no one. "What have you been up to?" Which even she knew was a stupid question because she couldn't take her eyes off Max's cock and Sally's hand stroking it. She suddenly felt hot and a little dizzy, so she sat down between Sam and Sally before she fell down.

"Sandy's had a little too much Italian," said Sally. "We'll have to entertain her so she doesn't fall asleep."

"Fine by me," grinned Max, who was beginning to feel pretty good as a result of what his wife's hand was doing.

Sam - still with his cock out - was understandably tongue-tied, so just gave his wife a kind of sheepish shrug, as if to say, sorry honey, but this is the worst you''ll ever know about me and I still love you despite the fact I also like looking at naked women on DVDs fucking and sucking cock. Sandy raised her eyebrows at him but couldn't think of anything to say that wouldn't sound either mean or silly, so she looked at the TV. On it a naked man was eating out a naked woman while another woman in stockings and high heels had her hand wrapped round his cock. Oh Lord, thought Sandy, but she couldn't tear her eyes away, especially when she knew that if she did she'd only find herself looking at Sally stroking Max's cock.

Sam noticed his wife looking at the DVD and decided to risk an observation. "It's all fake, of course."

"Is it?" said Sandy. "I wouldn't know." But she didn't look away.

"The women just pretend to have orgasms; all that moaning is put on."

"What about the men? Are they faking it?'

"Well, no, not the men, obviously."

"Would you like me to do that?" asked Sandy, nodding at the woman stroking the man's cock.

Sam didn't know quite what to say to this. If he said yes, would she say he was disgusting and never speak to him again? "Only if you wanted to," he said, which seemed a pretty safe answer under the circumstances.

"OK," said Sandy and took hold of his half-erect cock.

"What, now?" he said, a bit alarmed. I mean, Max and Sally were next to them on the couch, for Christ's sake, even if she was jacking him off.

"Go for it," said Sally encouragingly. "We interrupted them, so it's only right we finish them off." A conclusion she seemed pretty keen to reach, judging by the vigour with which she was pumping her husband's cock. Max was lying with his head back, breathing in short gasps, so she was obviously doing a good job.

Sam thought it might be rude to stare, but he couldn't help himself. Watching Sally's hand sliding up and down a live hard cock was pretty arousing, much more so than watching a fake blonde with fake tits doing it to a muscle-bound porn star anyway, especially with his wife stroking his own cock, even if she didn't really know how to do it properly.

"Am I doing it right?" asked Sandy, dimly conscious through her alcoholic haze that Sally seemed a lot more dexterous.

"Great," said Sam, because although it wasn't - not yet anyway - he didn't want her to stop.

Truth to tell, Sandy didn't want to stop either. If you thought she was only - to coin a phrase - going through the motions because she didn't want to be thought a party-pooper, you'd be mistaken. Watching Sally doing that to Max and having her husband's thing in her own hand were making her feel pretty hot. It wasn't the same as what was on the TV - though that was arousing too, but in a different way. This was real sex between two people who were really into each other, who really loved each other and really liked giving each other pleasure. And here it was, right in front her, in the flesh, a real live throbbing cock in her best friend's hand, about to come. She could feel Sam's cock as well, really big and firm like Max's now, so she must have been doing something right. It made her feel even hotter. It was almost like having two cocks and that was something she thought would never happen to her.

By this time the TV had been forgotten. Both Sam and Sandy were just staring at Max's cock, waiting for it to blow, both as hot as hell.

"Shall I make him come?" said Sally, giving them a teasing smile.

Sandy couldn't speak, but she gave a little nod. Oh Lord, did she just admit she wanted to see another man come?

"Here you go, lover," said Sally to Max, giving him a long lingering kiss on his lips, so he could hardly breathe. "Give Sandy the show she's been dying to see." She gave some final rapid strokes and right on cue Max's body went into spasm. He came good and strong, while Sally did clever things with her hand to make him spurt even further and prolong his orgasm for as long as possible.

"Oh yeah, honey, I'm coming," cried Max, who was not above stating the obvious.

"That's it, baby," urged Sally, her tongue between her lips, "I love to see your big cock come." Her hand slippery with his come, she continued to stroke him slowly, which she knew was sometimes the best feeling for a man.

Sandy couldn't tear her eyes away. She'd never actually seen a real live cock come. The only orgasms Sam had with her were inside her; she'd certainly never given him a hand job. Not because she wouldn't, but because he'd never asked. Stupid man.

Sam, for his part, didn't find Max coming quite as arousing as he'd expected it to be. In fact, it was a little bit embarrassing - even if Max was his best friend, or maybe because Max was his best friend, who can fathom the mysteries of male bonding? So he looked away - or rather he looked at Sally, who was looking very erotic the way her eyes were all hooded and her lips were apart and the tip of her tongue protruded from her mouth. She looked almost as if she was going to lap up Max's come, which had gone all over his belly - but instead she released her husband's cock and got up on the couch, straddling Max and facing him.

"My turn, lover," she said, with a wink at Sandy, who turned bright pink because she guessed right away what Sally was about to do.

Sure enough, Sally lifted her skirt to her waist, revealing a black and red lacy thong. "Time for your supper," she said, which was kind of inane, but that was the sort of talk they liked.

Max needed no further encouragement. He grabbed his wife's bare arse with both hands, pulled her towards him and buried his face between her legs. "Oh yes," sighed Sally, who loved to be licked through her knickers.

This was more like it, thought Sam, his cock getting a lot harder in Sandy's inexpert hand. In fact, it seemed her very inexperience was having the desired effect. Her fumbling strokes meant he never quite knew when or where she would next hit the spot. It was weirdly exciting - frustrating too, but exciting at the same time. Or maybe it was just the sight of Sally getting her cotton covered pussy licked, he didn't really care which.

Sandy, for her part, was also hugely turned on by what Max was doing to Sally, though she hadn't expected to be. She also felt a little guilty for being turned on. Wasn't watching people have sex a bit like looking through their rubbish - an invasion of their privacy? Then she saw how Max's tongue had found Sally's clit under the cotton and was circling it teasingly, and how Sally threw her head back and was moaning to herself, and she thought, so what if it's wrong? I want to watch. It was as much as she could do to concentrate on the matter in hand, which was her husband's cock. Was she doing it right, she wondered to herself for the hundredth time. Lord, what is the right way? What do men like? Why doesn't this sort of thing come naturally to a girl, like skipping?

She needn't have worried. Sam was knocking on heaven's door. Before Sandy had time to react, he changed from being a motionless corpse with a stiff cock to a twitching mass of uncontrollable spasms. In alarm, she momentarily loosened her hold.

"Don't stop!" Sam cried out, in his agony forgetting the magic word.

Luckily for him, Sandy obliged, even without a 'please'. She continued to pump his cock, trying to remember what Sally had done at this point. Was it slow now? Or should she be speeding up? Should she move her hand to the base of his cock, or the top? Never mind, whatever she did, Sam came and continued to come - all over her hand, which was yukky but kind of exciting at the same time, and over his belly and his boxers. She tried not to think of washing, but a tiny thought slipped in before she had time to crush it.

"Oh God," moaned Sam, as the last drops escaped his twitching cock. That was it - he couldn't think of anything else to say. He could hardly tell his wife that was the best hand job he'd ever had - which was the truth, because the couple he'd had at college had been pretty perfunctory. She might think he'd had hundreds.

Sandy didn't need any praise. She'd made Sam come - with her hand - the first time ever. And in front of two other people. She was a slut, a terrible awful slut, and she was really proud of herself.

Meanwhile - did you think I'd forgotten Sally? - knowing exactly what his wife liked, Max had pulled aside Sally's thong and was now sucking her clit directly. Sandy was reminded of how she'd felt when Sally had kissed and sucked her own clit. Oh Lord, she was getting that feeling again, the feeling that made her want to rush home and get out her vibrator. Stop it, she said desperately to herself, please stop. She squeezed her legs together in the vain hope the feeling would go away.

Breathing in short sharp gasps, Sally looked directly at her as Max's tongue expertly teased away. "He's sucking my clit, Sandy. Doesn't that remind you of something?"

Poor Sandy turned bright pink and hoped her husband wouldn't think too hard about the possible answers to Sally's question. Luckily Sam was far too busy gaping at Sally's pussy, pink and wet and swollen under his best friend's tongue. Hell, what he wouldn't give to be doing that, even though he'd just had a really good orgasm. Look at the way she was shoving her pussy into his face. Wow, that was hot.

Liking nothing more than to perform in front of an audience - she'd once almost been in a movie, but that's another story - Sally even turned sideways a little to give Sandy and Sam a better view.

"That's it, lover, suck my clit, make me come all over you," she urged Max, but all the while looking at Sandy, so it seemed to Sandy like Sally wanted her to be doing it. She turned even pinker, but she didn't stop looking. She wanted to see Sally come, she wanted to see what that looked like. More than anything, she wanted to imagine Max's mouth on her own clit and to feel what Sally was feeling.

"Oh yes, lover, that's it!" cried Sally, her body beginning to jerk uncontrollably and her legs to shake. "I'm coming! You're making me come! Suck me harder! Don't stop!" And so on. All of which Max had heard hundreds of times before, but which still turned him on like hell.

Not to mention their audience. Sandy watched as her best friend ground her naked pussy into Max's mouth, flinging her head back in helpless ecstasy. She suddenly realised she was squeezing her legs together in time and moving back and forth on the couch. She quickly stopped, hoping Sam hadn't noticed. He hadn't, of course. He was too busy thinking this was the first time he'd ever watched another woman have an orgasm. A real orgasm, not a fake one like those silicon-titted porn actresses have. Wow, he said to himself, I mean, wow.

"Oh fuck," continued Sally, who liked to be vocal when she was coming, "oh jesus, yes, I'm coming!" All the while, pressing herself convulsively against Max's mouth. "Oh Jesus, that is so good."

Finally her body calmed and her knees began to buckle - because, as we all know, standing on a couch while having an orgasm can be a strain on the legs. Reluctantly she eased herself away from her husband's glistening lips, bent her face to his and gave him a long grateful kiss. "Thank you, lover. You are the best cunt sucker in the world."

Poor Sandy didn't know what to be more shocked at: Sally using the c word or kissing lips that were covered in her own juices. Then she remembered the latter was something she herself had done, so decided using the c word was worse.