Written by pandsal

25 May 2006

The memory of that evening, more than twenty years ago now, remains lodged in the deep recesses of my brain, probably permanently. In the immediate aftermath it completely took over my masturbation fantasies. I had only to close my eyes and picture Alice in all her lascivious openness and my cock would spring to life, demanding the attention of my hand. Of course, as other women came into my life, especially after my marriage to Selena, a sense of proportion ensued. Alice wasn’t forgotten; the experience was still recalled just as fondly but at increasingly longer intervals. Until now. Now I have to make a decision and the only guide I have is the recollection of that night with Alice and her husband.

Perhaps I should start at the beginning.

I was a student in my third year at University. Having come from a family who had made enough sacrifices for my benefit, I took a part-time job at one of the city’s major hotels. After a stint washing up in the kitchen, I was offered the chance to serve in the bar - pleasanter and more lucrative. The four-till-midnight shift on Saturday was hard work, but Sunday’s eleven-till-seven was quite relaxing once the lunchtime crowd had departed.

Alice and her husband were Sunday regulars. I’m ashamed to say I’ve forgotten their surname - MacArthur, McAndrew maybe, I just can’t remember. Everyone, including his wife, simply called him Mac. Mac was a building contractor, a self-made man who had built up a substantial business in the area. He could be a bit arrogant, noisy when he was buying a round for his Sunday circle, but I could stand that from a generous tipper. Alice, moving effortlessly towards attractive middle age, was quiet, always courteous on the few occasions that we spoke.

It was shortly after four o’clock one Sunday afternoon when Mac, having left a couple of hours earlier with Alice, returned alone. I was mildly surprised, never having seen him at this time on his own. He came and sat at the bar and ordered a large scotch and soda. When I put it in front of him, he clearly wanted to talk but first he looked round as though to see who else was present. The bar was empty.

Our conversation began conventionally, mere idle small talk. Then, after looking round again and lowering his voice, he asked me about myself. When I told him about my studies he asked if I would be interested in earning “a bit extra.” Not being anxious to exchange a four-star hotel for a builder’s office, I enquired what he had in mind.

Mac made another surreptitious survey of the bar, paused as though trying to decide how to proceed, then said, “My wife - Alice. You’ve seen her here with me?”

I said I had.

Mac gulped down the scotch and asked for another. Then he said, “Would you sleep with her?” As far as I can remember, I hadn’t been able to frame a response before Mac went on to outline his proposal. It was Alice’s fortieth birthday and he wanted something special as a present. I was to be the something special. Since they were married she had never had sex with anyone else but now he thought she was ready for it. If I was.

“Of course,” he added, almost as an afterthought, “I’d make it worth your while. A hundred pounds, say?”

He seemed to take my bemused silence as a rejection. “A hundred and fifty?”

What was going on in my head while I stayed tongue-tied? Would I like to fuck an attractive forty-year-old? Why not? Would I like to be paid for it? Certainly. At last I came to my senses, realising that if I didn’t say something soon he might assume I was offended and back away.

“I’d be pleased to see if I can help,” I said. It sounded ludicrously formal but Mac seemed satisfied. In an instant he became his normal forthright self. “Good. We’ll call it settled. What time do you finish here?”

“Just after seven.”

“I’ll be waiting for you outside.” As he walked away I realised that he hadn’t paid for his drinks. Rather than call him back, I put the money in the till myself. I figured I could take it out of my proposed night’s earnings.


Mac was standing at the staff door when I left. “Haven’t changed your mind?” was his immediate greeting. I shook my head. “Good. I’ve left the car a bit away. We can have a chat while we’re on the way.”

“Sure. What can I tell you?”

“I take it you’ve had some experience?”

Not with women nearly twice my age, but I wasn’t a virgin. Far from it. For a virile young man there were willing female undergraduates with urges of their own to satisfy. “Yes,” I said, trying to sound assured. Then, feeling it was time I took the initiative, “Your wife - ”

“Alice won’t disappoint you. Anything you want - she’ll do it. She’s what they call a submissive.” We walked on in silence for a moment. When I made no comment, he added, “Don’t look down on her for that. If you met her out you’d never know. It’s only when it comes to sex. It’s the way she gets her - her pleasure. She likes being told what to do. Can you understand that?”

Although this was a whole new world to me, I said I thought I could.

“It’s taken me a long time to understand everything she needs but we’ve got it worked out now. That’s how I knew she would agree when I suggested getting someone else involved. I could have done it before but somehow forty seemed just the right age to take her a step further.”

I could hardly believe that someone I knew only from serving him drinks across a bar should be so frank about his sex life. And, as far as my personal experience went, a pretty unconventional sex life at that. But there was one question nagging at the back of my mind. “When we - when Alice and I ...” I was floundering for an appropriate phrase. “Look”, said Mac, coming to my rescue, “you can deal with her how you like. I promise you, she’ll agree to whatever. If she seems a bit reluctant, that’s all part of it. She’ll do it. Anything you want. Only, don’t rush it. This is a very special thing for both of us and - well, we both want to enjoy it.”

This almost answered the question I hadn’t asked but I put it to him anyway. “Does that mean you want to be involved as well?”

“Of course. That was always the idea. I’ll probably watch for a while - I want to see her - see her getting it. But the two of us together can give her a real seeing to. Can’t we?”

It hadn’t been the scenario I had originally visualised but it was too late to back out now. Anyway, I was the hired hand. And curious. And more than a little aroused.

“By the way,” Mac said, “I’ve told her your name is Simon. It doesn’t matter what it is really. Just be Simon for tonight.”

While I was still digesting that we arrived at the car - a new-looking Jaguar. Mac opened the rear door and ushered me inside. To my surprise, I found Alice sitting there. “Hello, Simon” she said, smiling. Her voice was warm, not at all nervous, as I might have expected.

I said, “Happy birthday - Alice.”

“I hope it will be,” she replied, leaning across to take my hand which she placed on her thigh. “Mac’s told me I have to take care of you. Whatever you say.” Mac climbed into the driver’s seat and we set off, though not before he had adjusted the rear view mirror. I thought he had angled it for a view of anything that might transpire in the back seat.

We hadn’t travelled far before Mac said over his shoulder, “Why don’t you two start getting to know each other? Show him your tits, Ally.”

Alice made no move. Mac spoke again, “Tell her, Simon.”

I saw that the game had started and I need to play my part. “Show me,” I said.

“He likes big tits,” said Mac. I hadn’t told him anything of the sort but I was beginning to understand. I squeezed her thigh. She unbuttoned her blouse, pulled it wide, undid the front clasp of her bra. Her breasts were full and round. I could see that the nipples were prominent and hard. Apparently Mac knew what he was talking about: this was what she wanted.

“Let him see you work the nipples, Ally.” I was aware of Mac’s eyes swivelling between the road ahead and the rear view mirror. I pulled Ally across towards me, positioning her nearer the middle of the seat to help Mac see better. My cock was hardening as I began to pick up the sexual vibrations between the two of them. Or rather, the three of us. Her fingers plucked at both nipples, twisting them.

“Harder,” I said. More new territory for me. Making it up as we went along. But it was undeniably doing something for me, too.

She obeyed, wincing slightly. “It hurts,” she said.

“That’s how you like it,” her husband told her. We stopped at traffic lights with a bus at our side. “Open your legs for him,” said Mac. To me he added, “You’ll find she’s wet.”

“People on the bus can see us,” Alice protested, not very convincingly.

“So enjoy it. Give ‘em a show.” She was still manipulating her nipples. “Put your hand up her skirt, Simon.”

I removed my hand from her thigh and she immediately widened her knees. I pushed the skirt up a few inches, savouring the feel of her stockings beneath my fingers. The lights changed and we moved forward while I peeled the skirt right back. The stockings were black, supported by black suspenders. I encountered cool flesh.

“Let him have a good feel. Let him get his fingers in your cunt.” Alice inched forward on the seat so as to allow me freer access. “She’s got black knickers on, if you like that kind of thing. But if you want them off, just tell her.”

Don’t rush it, Mac had stipulated, and I was happy to comply. I made her lift her bottom so I could peel the skirt right back but after that I was content just to admire the contrast between black knickers and white thighs, to edge the gusset aside and insert a finger or two. Alice moaned softly. Mac was right - she was wet. Ready. Available. All I had to do was tell her.

I glimpsed Mac’s eyes darting to the mirror. He was driving with only one hand on the wheel. Perhaps it was as well that we soon began to slow down. Mac turned into the drive of a large modern house. I guessed large sitting room, open fireplace, leather armchairs, large TV in one corner, bar in another. When we went in, I wasn’t surprised. No expense spared. But you can’t buy taste.

“Drinks anyone?” Mac asked, moving behind the bar and pouring himself a large scotch. “Do you want her here? You could have her on the rug. Or over the arm of that chair, spread her legs, have a feel of her arse. Otherwise, we can take her upstairs. It’s up to you.”

Alice stood, arms at her side, waiting for instructions, seemingly unperturbed by Mac’s boorish arrogance. The submissive game was so new to me, I didn’t know how much was just acting and how much came natu him. Perhaps to her, as well. My explorations in the car, the way she opened her knees, the juice leaking on to labia, tended to suggest she was a willing participant. I had to remember, too, that I was being paid to perform. Moreover, in spite of an inherent dislike of treating a woman this way, I found myself caught up in the erotic charge of a scenario I could have scarcely dreamed of twenty-four hours earlier. My cock was hardening. I chose upstairs.

The bedroom was of a piece with all I had seen downstairs: huge bed, dressing table, wardrobes with floor to ceiling mirrored doors. Assuming my role, I instructed Alice to remove her blouse and skirt and stand in front of one of the mirrors. Mac, placed his second glass of scotch on a bedside table, sat on the edge of the bed to watch.

“Turn round,” I ordered. Truly, Alice was in excellent shape and she was dressed to display all her assets: full breasts, a tight, rounded bottom and long legs set off by black lingerie, bra, knickers, suspender belt, stockings, high heels.

“The bra. Let’s have that off first.” Alice undid a clasp, let the garment fall to the floor. Her breasts were round and taut enough to indicate that the bra had been as much decoration as support. “The nipples,” I continued. “Like you did in the car.” With finger and thumb, she tweaked and twisted them. “Harder.”

While she did so, my eyes strayed to the reflection in the mirror or her rear. Hoping I was keeping to Mac’s instruction not to hurry, but at the same time driven by my own arousal, I made her turn round and bend over. I crossed to her, ran my palms over the soft fabric stretched across her arse.

Mac spoke for the first time since we had entered the bedroom. “You can slap her.”

More new territory for me. Perhaps Mac hadn’t considered how narrow my previous experience was at the age of twenty-one, or perhaps he sumed everybody’s foreplay included spanking. I raised my hand and brought it down on her right cheek three times. An inner voice told me I was enjoying myself.

“She can take it harder than that. And with the knickers off, if you want.” Mac again. I saw that he had opened his trousers and was stroking his cock.

Paid to please though I was, this was where Mac and I disagreed. I was in no hurry to forgo the feel of Alice’s knickers, especially when distended by those firm but pliant orbs. I went to a chair at the side of the bed and sat down. “Come here,” I commanded Alice. “Lie across my lap.”

Once she was in position I resumed her punishment, vary the interval between each smack as well as the severity of the slaps themselves. I wondered if somewhere on her prone body she could feel my cock straining up against her. It would soon be impossible to refrain from putting it into her somewhere. I hadn’t yet decided where. For the moment, I ended the spanking, instead rubbing my hands across her arse, occasionally letting my middle finger press the material against her sphincter. At last, I grasped the waistband and very slowly eased the knickers over her thighs and down to her ankles, finally to the floor. Mac immediately snatched up the garment, held it to his face for a few moments, then wrapped it round his dick.

There was a brief interlude during which I had Alice lie back on the bed and finger herself while I shed my clothes. My cock, I was proud to note, was as hard as I had ever known it, sticking straight out from my groin. “What to do you think of this?” I asked, holding it close to Alice’s face without letting her interrupt her masturbation. “It’s good,” she said. “Big.”

“All right, then.” I went back to sit in the chair. “Kneel.” She rose from the bed and did so. “Suck it.” With scarcely a pause, almost as though she felt she had waited too long for his moment, she cupped one hand under my balls, grasped the shaft with the other, and bent her head to the task. She was good, varying tantalising licks with the tip of her tongue to deep suction, lips firm as she took in almost my full length. Although there was no need, I felt it would please Mac if I put my hands on the back of her head to control the in-and-out movement. The speed of his stroking increased for a while until he took a deep breath and with thumb and forefinger pinched the knickers material against the base of his member as though needing to keep control.

There came a moment when I need to apply similar concentration to my own rising excitement. I pushed Alice’s head away. “Get back on the bed and kneel. It’s time you were fucked.” It wasn’t in my nature to treat a woman in this way and I had to remind myself that I had agreed to take part in a certain scenario. At the same time, something deep in my psyche recognised an illicit thrill and urged me on. I suspected that some time later I might feel ashamed and embarrassed but at that moment I wanted to continue.

“It’s what you need, isn’t it?” I asked her. “To be fucked.”

“Yes,” she said, already kneeling, arse in the air.

“Tell me then.”

“Fuck me. It’s what I want. Please fuck me.”

Kneeling behind her, I reached through to nudge her knees wider apart. My hand sought her cunt, prised the lips apart. Testing for the degree of her self-lubrication was unnecessary but I did so all the same. I found what I expected. The spanking followed by masturbation had prepared her fully. I steadied myself with one hand on her buttocks and with the other guided my cock into her, driving forward in one thrust until I was completed buried. Slightly to my disappointment, I seem to recall, she made no sound.

“Good?” I asked. “Is that good?”

“Yes. It’s good.”


“Fuck me.”

This was when Mac joined us, kneeling beside his wife, reaching under her with one hand to work on her dangling tits while continuing with the other to stroke his cock with her knickers. “This is what you want, Ally,” he said. “Simon’s giving you that seeing-to you deserve, isn’t he? A hard young cock rammed up you. Waiting to spurt spunk up you. Or perhaps he’s going to shoot it on your face. But you’ve got to show him first - show him what a good fuck you are.” Crouching beside her, he murmured constantly in her ear, sometimes so quietly I could barely make out the words.

I remembered him saying as we walked to his car, “I want to see her getting it,” and now he was savouring every moment, first feeling her tits, then momentarily abandoning his cock to use his hands to spread her cheeks for me. “Hard as you like. That’s what she wants,” he told me. Then to his wife,”You’re the best, Ally, the hottest cunt he’ll ever have. Do it, Ally.”

The effect on Alice was apparent. If I had harboured doubts about her willingness to participate in this bizarre fortieth birthday celebration, they were dispelled in the next few minutes. Urged on by Mac, she began pushing herself back to meet my thrusting. With each cycle there was the suction sound of my member bursting from her soaking inner recesses followed by the slap of flesh on flesh as I hammered back in. Mac was correct: it was certainly the most intense fuck I had ever had. And somehow the most enduring. As the tempo increased and her jerking grew wilder, I clung on to Alice’s hips to keep myself from losing contact altogether. I no longer knew nor cared whether I was in control, or Mac, or even Alice herself. We were all caught up in the sexual whirlwind.

We changed positions. I ordered her on to her back. Mac gripped her ankles, held her legs wide. I piled into her again. Her orgasms started, noisy and abandoned, her body squirming and rising beneath me. Eyes tightly shut in concentration, she seemed to reach a plateau of fulfilment where one paroxysm of desire rode swiftly and seamlessly on to the next.

It couldn’t last. I knew I had to come and, between gasps for breath, said as much to Mac. “Let me have her, then,” he said, pushing me to one side and taking my place with such dexterity that Alice hardly missed a beat between my dick emerging and Mac’s replacing it. Bemused, I lay beside them nursing an erection that was close to exploding. Mac understood. “Give it to her on her face,” he grunted. “I’ll fill her cunt.”

And that was how it ended. Kneeling beside Alice, I released the white sticky stream with a volume and velocity that astonished me. I was totally drained. But Mac continued pumping his rigid dick into the orifice I had prepared for him until, without warning, on the inward movement he gave a huge groan and collapsed. Alice wrapped her legs around his back and, it appeared to me, ground herself against him until she had achieved one final climax.


Perhaps the most remarkable aspect of the whole surreal episode was the way Mac and Alice continued to come in for their regular Sunday lunchtime drinks without ever giving any indication that we had ever had any contact other than across the bar. As before, Mac tipped generously but not abnormally. Sometimes I would look at my bank statement to contemplate the hundred and fifty pounds I had deposited there, the only tangible evidence that I hadn’t dreamed the whole business.

In any case, a few months later I graduated and set about building my career. On the way to becoming the successful geologist I now am, I had a number of relationships with women of about my own age. One encouraged me to spank her before sex but otherwise my experience was conventional.

Selena was the sister of one of my best friends. We dated for a while, enjoyed each other in bed and drifted into marriage. In time sex settled into a routine which could, I suspect, have become an issue for us both. Fortunately, we have never had a problem talking such things through, and it was while we were doing so in bed one night that she asked me about my previous partners. I told her there had only been one encounter that might in any way surprise her and, of course, she wanted to know the details. Not just generalities, the whole story from beginning to end.

When I finished, she asked me how I felt about it now. Confused, I said. I still felt uncomfortable, uncertain whether I had given Alice pleasure or simply humiliated her. Yet the memory remained vivid at the back of my mind whenever I revisited it.

“And it still works for you, doesn’t it?” said Selena, reaching for my cock that was already hardening under her hand.

“Do you mind?”

“No.” She bent her head and took me into her mouth. After a long while, she released my cock, snuggled up me and put her head on my shoulder. Then she said, “If you look carefully you’ll find that many women - not all, but many women - have a submissive side to their nature. Most of them bury it. Feminists might not like it, but most women are capable of evolving into the kind of sexual animal that suits their partner. What’s good for him is good for her.”


“What I’m saying is there is nothing inherently awful in being submissive - as long as it works for both, and both respect the limits.”

“I suppose so.”

“Then think about this. occurred to you that I might respond to you the way Alice did to Mac?”


Over the next months and years that conversation evolved into a whole new sexual relationship. I like to think Selena and I are a slightly more sophisticated couple than Mac and Alice in as much as we are capable of standing back and examining where we are and how we want to proceed. Which brings me back to the decision I have to make. In two weeks, it will be Selena’s birthday. Her fortieth. And when I asked her whether there was anything she would like, she reminded me of my student days as a part-time barman ...