The Old Pals Act

Sylvia smiled. "Before last night, I might have minded but now I can understand how men can get as badly hooked on him as I am." There was a long pause and then she asked, "Jeff, how do you feel after having it done to you. My bum is very sore and bruised - I'm worried that might have damaged me with his cock being so huge." I felt exactly the same but I did not intend to mention it.

I told her to let me have a look and, eager to have her mind set at ease, Sylvia threw off the covers and got on all fours, in almost the identical position that she had adopted for him. In an extremely gentle manner, I pushed apart her buttock cheeks and peered at her small abused anus. It was very red and possibly swollen but I could see no sign of a tear or any other real damage. All round her tender rosebud and down the backs of her legs I could see what I assumed was dried discoloured spunk. "Your fine," I told her and then, on the spur of the moment, I leaned forward to place a loving kiss on the entrance to the passage that Brad had carnally conquered but not I. The next second my tongue was licking frantically. I may have given him carte blanche with my wife but this was one first that I intended to deny my dissolute friend.

Sylvia loved it. She wriggled and giggled under me saying, "That's lovely Jeff, please don't stop."

As my tongue was beginning to tire, she rolled onto her back and urged my very stiff prick inside her. I think that she just wanted to be fucked but I did not want to do it in a way that was too reminiscent of how I had seen her with Brad those first two nights. Gradually I eased her into our favourite position for relaxed loving sex, lying on our sides facing each other. For almost an hour we kissed and fondled, for periods not moving at all, just content to be part of each other. Even after I had climaxed we did not move and fell asleep in each other's arms, still connected.

"Give it a rest you two lovebirds - wake up and see the lovely breakfast I've done for you." We jerked awake to find Brad standing at the bottom of the bed, fully dressed and holding a laden breakfast tray in each hand. I scrambled to grab the sheet, shyly pulling it to cover my shrunken genitals and then rested the proffered tray on my lap. In contrast, my wife made no effort to conceal herself - to the contrary, she sat knees bent and legs apart balancing the tray on one knee. Brad quickly left. When he had gone, shocked by her blatant behaviour I asked, "Were you deliberately trying to get him to fuck you again now?"

That earlier loving mood seemed to have disappeared because Sylvia looked at me challengingly and replied, "Maybe I was - or perhaps I just don't have any shame anymore."

While we ate I kept glancing at her - to be honest I found it difficult to look away. Sitting there flaunting her nakedness with melon juice running down her chin, she represented the essence of woman. That strong sexual aroma was emanating from her again and despite the recent sex I felt myself stiffening again. It was not to be because Sylvia skipped quickly out of bed - maybe she noticed my quickening attention and took avoiding action. Downstairs we found a note explaining that he had gone for a walk and would be back around midday. Amazingly both my wife and I slipped quite naturally into our normal Sunday routine with me taking the ten-minute walk to bring back newspapers. Brad returned just in time for the light lunch and afterwards we all went out to the patio.

A pleasant hour or so went by in desultory conversation and reading the different newspapers as they circulated. "I don't think you have had a real look at the garden Brad," Sylvia said brightly and the next minute the pair of them wandered off with my wife pointing out different plants and bushes, (we are both keen gardeners). I had just started a long item so I continued reading, keeping a casual eye on them until they disappeared from sight, at which point I devoted my attention to the article. I finished that and only after I had read something else did I realised they had not reappeared despite nearly fifteen minutes having elapsed. Setting off in search of the missing pair it came as no real surprise to find them fucking under the apple tree.

My wife's refined sense of decorum seemed to have completely deserted her. The spot they had chosen had the benefit of full sun but it was also the position offering least concealment from a potential observer in either of the neighbouring gardens. As it happened, the families on both sides tended to use their gardens a lot during sunny weekends. Consequently I spent a fraught twenty minutes partly watching the action but mainly on alert ready to run interference should someone appear in either of the other gardens. When it was over, Sylvia stood up and brushed down her dress, gave me a bashful grin and bent to retrieve her discarded knickers. "Leave them off, it will save time later," Brad instructed and she happily complied. He then said he was gagging for a coffee so we all went back inside. There he continued on the theme, saying to her, "You should stop wearing knickers altogether - I like to think of your warm moist eager cunt all ready and available. Come to that you shouldn't wear them to work either - but don't go opening your legs for any of these office types, at least not until after I've gone."

We two males were sitting to drink our coffee but Sylvia was flitting about getting vegetables and other ingredients ready to start cooking. Every time that she passed him, Brad very familiarly put his hand under her dress and eventually scooped her onto his lap and starting to fiddle for his zip. Very adroitly, she extricated herself from his embrace and said firmly, "Brad, you know I am always willing but right now you've got a choice - you can either have me or the meal that I am trying to prepare."

Brad muttered that it would keep and to my relief desisted. I was worried but not about the proprietorial way he treated my wife but rather his potential waste of energy - I was preoccupied with how I was going to get alone with him to collect my share of his favours. Sylvia solved my problem by saying, "While I am cooking, I can't do with you two men under my feet mauling me every time I walk past. Why don't you go and put that wardrobe back how it should be. After that just stay out of my way until everything is cooked."

In his bedroom Brad grinned, "Do you want to fix the wardrobe first or what?"

"The wardrobe can wait," I said shortly quickly scanning the room. Spotting his jar of lubrication I ran over and grabbed it.

"You won't be needing that old pal," he said. "Your hole will be still be too bruised and I don't want to ruin it. I'm afraid that it is back to the gargling or nothing."

I was bitterly disappointed because my body ached for a repeat of the previous invasion but I settled for what I could get. There was a bonus in that his cock tasted very strongly of cunt so I meticulously licked off every trace before beginning on the sucking proper. Brad allowed me to make the most of my consolation prize by bringing him to the brink several times before the mood mellowing cum finally flooded into my mouth. Downstairs, Sylvia looked into my eyes knowingly and asked, "So you boys found something to amuse you then?" and only at that moment did I remember that we had done nothing about the wardrobe.

After dinner we sat around in an almost formal manner for over an hour allowing the food to digest but then dropped the pretence and got down to serious screwing which lasted, taking turns, for the rest of the evening and well into the night. Next morning I was still shattered when I woke alone with my wife but I had to force myself out of bed to go to work. Downstairs I found myself breakfasting in solitary state and took pride in the fact that Brad had apparently been not been able to come up to scratch. Nor was he waiting when I left work to return home but found that he had prepared a tasty snack for me when I arrived. "So what have you been doing with yourself all day?" I asked mainly to make conversation.

"Well for most of the morning, I was screwing the arse off your lovely wife," he told me unabashed.

"She really can't get enough of me. Bloody insatiable - I have honestly never known a tart quite like her."

There was no answer to that. I found that it was not the sex that I resented as much as the intimacy they had shared during my absence. Brad noticed the expression on my face and misinterpreted it. "Don't worry," he reassured me. "I've saved plenty of energy for you."

This time he allowed me to grab his jar and apply the contents to myself but when I threw myself expectantly face down on the bed he said, "This isn't a one way street you know. There happens to be a little service that I want you to do for me to make it worth my while." Puzzled, I sat up and faced him as he explained what he wanted. Two day's before when I had done this to my wife, it was done partly as an act of love and partly to do it before Brad got the chance. At the time I never dreamed that Brad would want the same perverse service performed on him. After satisfying his demand, I finished up disappointed with the sex. Granted the pain was less but so was the pleasure - I still enjoyed it considerably but without the ecstasy of that first occasion. I suspect that Brad deliberately allowed me only short rations. I know that after he had cum I was still so hungry for more that I started licking and sucking his cock, trying to get him stiff again and taking no account of where the organ had just been.

Brad stopped me. "I do have to keep something in reserve. When the stupendous Sylvia gets home, I want to have it stiff for her every time that she looks at me."

The next day followed exactly the same pattern except that before leaving work I booked the next three days as holiday. During the morning, I had tormented myself with thoughts of them alone together and this was the only way that I could prevent it. When Sylvia got home it turned out that she had done the same. In a private moment she explained, "Brad wasn't joking about me not wearing any knickers at work. He checks and to make sure and to make it worse he insists that I wear a dress. It's so embarrassing. I feel as if everybody knows - and there are two guys I never even speak to who have started hanging round my desk."

That was the start of more than five days of solid sex until Brad finally left us. By 'solid' I mean a kaleidoscope of copulation when individual days ceased to have any relevance and all I can remember is different incidents from within the period. Spread over days, Brad continued to make oblique references to pregnancy. He enthused over my wife's 'child bearing hips' and speculated that she was the kind of woman who would prove extremely fruitful. Another time he imagined aloud how he saw her as an island girl with a baby on her hip. More serious was the time that he asked her views on breast-feeding. Sylvia said that she believed in it, mentioning the traditional benefits. "But how long would you keep nourishing the child that way?" he wanted to know.

She obviously had not given it a lot of thought. "Until it is weaned onto solid food," she said vaguely.

"Native women keep on suckling until the kid is well over two years old. Don't you think that is the best way in nature?"

"Have you seen the pictures of native women? Imagine what my tits would be like after two fucking years," Sylvia told him shortly and he was happy to let the matter drop.

Nevertheless this bothered me and I passed on my concerns to her the next time we were alone. Brad maintained his practice of ending every night in his own bed so mornings were the only time that we were guaranteed a bit of privacy. "Despite what he said, I still think that Brad has plans to make you pregnant," I told her.

She laughed. "So what? If we didn't have a test we would never know for sure. You would still be the father and what better start in life can a father give his son than let him be born with a prick like Brad?"

Then, seeing the expression on my face she said quickly, "Jeff, I'm only kidding. You are worrying about nothing; it's never going to happen."

At one point Brad insisted that she perform the same act on him that he had demanded of me, before he would allow her access to his cock. "Your husband can do it for you if you like," he conceded.

Sylvia proudly insisted in earning her own fuck, and sitting watching I was ashamed at how low both of us had fallen. This showed graphically how far our Machiavellian guest was prepared to demean us as part of his perverted pleasure. It suddenly struck me that Brad never used his mouth at all. He did not even kiss Sylvia and although making use of both our tongues to pleasure him, his own was strictly reserved for telling us what he wanted. In fact, that mention of sucking milk from Sylvia's breast was his single oral reference relative to himself. My self-esteem was boosted to realise that his large penis was Brad's only real asset - but some would say, 'with that in his armoury he hardly needs another weapon'.

One day the three of us were messing about taking a shower together. Suddenly Sylvia turned of the water and squatted down saying, "I want you to piss on me - both of you at the same time." Such was the mood that both of us immediately stood side by side in front of her playing golden jets onto her tits, watching the different rivulets of urine flow over her stomach to plunge as a small torrent into the gorge that contained her cunt. It had of course to be Brad who 'accidentally' jerked his prick causing part of his stream to divert into her open mouth. Throughout the shower Sylvia gazed up at us her eyes filled with lust.

When we had both become arid, I said that she should now do it to us. I suggested that Brad and I lay with our legs over opposite sides of the bath and heads side by side. "You can stand straddled and get both of us at the same time." Brad seemed to be going along with the plan but at the last minute proposed a different arrangement. We finished up with both males lying the same way with the back of my neck in Brad's groin and his dick sticking up by the side of my ear. When she let go, I happily opened my mouth to catch her personal rain but he had managed to escape with only wet genitals.

I may be giving the impression that I went along with this charade as a fairly reluctant passenger but that is not case. Granted in rare moments of lucidity I could see the extent of our degradation but for the bulk of the time I was carried along by the same sexual euphoria as the others. We drank a lot and Brad seemed able to produce a steady supply of joints at appropriate moments. I had never had so much sex in my life. For years I had been a steady once a night man and by no means every night at that. Now I was doing it between three and four times in every twenty four hour period. Brad was consistently scoring twice to my once and as he ejaculated double the fluid, I calculated that his heavy testicles must manufacture quadruple my amount of semen.

Sylvia did make reference to his virility saying, "Brad must send out millions more sperm than you do." I disputed this mentioning my calculation and conceding a factor of four but no more. "You're just talking about quantity," she said smugly. "I bet his sperm swim shoulder to shoulder." I was upset by this small exchange for quite a time because I felt that it indicated a certain train of thought.

We played sexually based party games of the 'Truth, dare or promise' variety. During these, I heard things about my wife's past that I had originally been wise not to enquire about and yet, perversely she often chose to pay the forfeit rather than reveal a truth that I knew to be completely innocuous. Another game based on musical chairs involved Sylvia and I sucking Brad's cock alternatively. I had rigged a random timer on my PC and we switched places on the buzzer, competing for which of us was going to collect the prize.

Originally I had tried to indulge in homosexual activity only when my wife was absent but eventually need overcame reticence as Brad became less inclined to indulge my need for privacy. The time came when he sodomised me with Sylvia in the role of spectator. She watched with only casual interest for a while, saying, "I wondered what it would be like to see someone else getting it," but soon began to get excited. Shuffling underneath me, she got my cock in her mouth, at the same time exposing her wet twat to my panting tongue. That was possibly my ultimate sexual experience. On a later occasion when he was doing the same thing to her it was I who shuffled underneath. That too figures on my list of all time greats because I had the perfect close-up view of Brad's magnificent cock sliding in and out of her rectum and at the same time, juices generated by his friction, trickled unimpeded out of her vagina directly into my mouth.

We did a lot of other stuff some of it to do with food. I remember as man and wife, together licking whipped cream from his cock and balls, and myself eating fruit, particularly a banana out of Sylvia's cunt. I actually offered Brad a turn at this but he magnanimously let me continue saying, "I think I may have hogged the show a bit, I'll let you have her all to yourself for a bit." There are other things that I could mention but I think that you will have got the picture.

Brad finally left the house carrying his bag midway through the second Sunday afternoon. When saying farewell to Sylvia, the nearest that he could still come to a kiss was to touch his lips briefly to her forehead. She remained by the door while I walked with him to where his taxi stood waiting. We shook hands. "Now you look after our wife until I get back," he grinning incorrigible as ever. Then without humour he said, "Remember - six months." It could have been taken simply as a reminder of how long he would be away but I didn't think so.

He went to the vehicle, threw his bag onto the back seat and then, as if as an afterthought he came back to me removing something from his pocket. It was a small piece of card that he held out to me. "Just in case you miss me too much, this is the number of a pal of mine. I was actually planning to stay with him until you tempted me with your hospitality." Possibly I had a knowing look on my face because he so he said, "You're wrong - Mark is bi-sexual but he and I work the same end of the park. The thing is that he's a big lad, I know that you'll like him - and if Sylvia gets too frisky for you to handle alone, I think you will find he is multi talented like me. I told him all about you on the telephone."

Sylvia was waiting for me by the door. I put my arm around her and we went inside together. She heaved a long sigh and said, "Thank God he's gone. You know I felt the madness lifting away from me the moment that he walked out of the door and now I feel free. I can't believe how we have allowed him to take over our lives."

I felt exactly the same and at that moment the events of the previous fortnight seemed totally unreal. Sylvia told me to sit down and then brought a celebration drink to celebrate being on our own again. We drank in silence, I think both us preoccupied with the pleasure of returning to normal. I was still fiddling with the square of white card that Brad had given me and it piqued her curiosity. "Brad has nominated a stand-in in case we miss him too much," I told her with a half laugh.

"What kind of stand-in?"

"A well endowed bi-sexual it seems."

"I was wondering," she said slowly, "Are you going to miss what you and he did together."

"No. I honestly don't think that sort of stuff is really part of my nature - it's a desire that seems peculiar to Brad."