Written by Matt

Erotic
20 Oct 2005


I had to get drunk to write this, and I’m hoping it’ll turn on my wife when she reads it. It’s about what happened with Lee. Lee was an old college friend. He’d moved in down the road, temporarily, and I hadn’t seen him for fifteen years. He was Chinese, always popular, a practical joker. Lee was sitting in our kitchen and we were all catching up. He hadn’t met Dee before, that’s my wife. We’d had a couple of wines and were sharing old stories. Dee was being polite but frosty at the same time. She’d had a hard day at work and wanted to get to bed. I’d always liked Lee. He’d been popular at college, not just with his mates in the rugby team, but also with the female students. He had a broad smile and was outgoing. All the other guys envied his physique – unusual perhaps but he was over six foot and broad shouldered, thick set, very muscular. He played wing forward. We also envied his prowess in the shower. And the word soon got round about Lee’s unusually large member. He used to joke about it himself – having to tie it to his thigh while running and all that crap. Anyway, he’d got a temporary contract as physio for the local professional club and, staying at big house on his own for a few days, was keen to reacquaint himself with old ties.

“I should be going”, said Lee, glancing at the clock and taking a nervous glance at Dee, who was washing up. She was still in her work clothes – knee-length grey skirt, pink cardigan, new boots with the two-inch heels. She stood about five-foot seven in them and her black, shoulder-length hair shone under the kitchen lights. She turned her long face – still stunning at 45, with its green eyes, long cheeks and slim nose.

“Don’t leave on my account, Lee. I’m off to shower and then bed. You carry on.”

It was then I heard myself say,”She needs to wash her sweaty arm-pits. She has a thing about it – thinks she sweats too much.” Dee gave me a look.

“Then she should try one of my traditional massages. My uncle gave me a special oil for perspiration. It worked for a friend of mine.” Silence. I laughed.

“Does it cure sweaty feet too. She thinks her feet are sweaty too!”

“Shut up, Matt, for God’s sake!” said Dee, blushing slightly.

“Well, you’re more than welcome to try it. How about Friday evening?” said Lee. “Christ,” I thought, “this is embarrassing.”

“Mm. Not so sure, said Dee” looking over my way. And then I heard myself say “Go on, love, give it a go! Lee knows what he’s doing.”

Lee was beaming in Dee’s direction with raised eyebrows. His wide, smiling face and shining teeth were confident of her reply.

“Go on then,” said Dee, to my amazement. “I’ll try anything to feel confident about raising my arms in the air at work. I’ll see you Friday Lee.”

Lee seemed pleased, to put it mildly. “Great. I have my own massage studio in this house I’m borrowing. You’ll like it.” With that, Dee gave a little wave and disappeared up the stairs.

“You have a fine wife,” said Lee. “She reminds me of a mature Lois Lane, but strongly built. She has an athletic body for a woman of her age, don’t you think, Matt? – breasts not too large and a narrow waist, and I like her arse, not too big, not too small, and rounded, and those slim, strong thighs… did she ever play tennis?”

“Yes, yes Lee, steady on. That’s my wife you’re talking about.”

I remembered Lee’s appetite for the opposite sex. How he used to talk about women’s bodies a lot. Mainly due to the legend of his big prick, and his charm of course, he’d gone through half the female population of the college by the time we’d parted company.

“See you both Friday, then!” said Lee, smiling down at me as he left the house.

I crawled up to bed, half–pissed, and slid in next to Dee. She was wearing a white vest and black pants. I pressed my prick against her warm arse but she wriggled and half-pushed me away. We hadn’t had sex for a month.

Thursday night the phone rang and Dee answered it as I was in the bath. It was a short phone call and it wasn’t until we were in bed, chatting, that Dee told me about it.

“You won’t believe this.” “What?” “That was Lee on the phone earlier. He said he’d been looking up his uncle’s book on the massage cure for too much sweat.”

“And?”

“He said, and cool as a cucumber too, he said ‘Could you please shave all bodily hair below the neck, before your massage tomorrow.” “Bloody hell! What did you say?” “Well, I didn’t have time to think so I said, ‘Yes.’”

“What?!”

“And then, if you please, he asked if I could eat a hot curry in my Friday lunch hour – something about being able to smell the sweat glands better.”

“Bloody hell.”

There was a long silence. I let my left hand drift across her soft stomach and, very slowly, down to between her thighs. My palm rested on a bare mound of warm flesh, harder than it normally felt, as if a new bone had risen, and it was smooth, shaven, naked. I felt my heart race. She placed her hand over mine and moved it back across the bed, to my side, dumping it back in its place, like some old paper-weight. Silence. Then sleep.

On Friday evening, after we’d put the shopping away, Dee and I got ready to go out. Dee did not dress seductively – but a beautiful woman is always seductive. For whatever reason, I did get a thrill watching her dress. First she changed her underwear. She hadn’t bathed, another of Lee’s requirements, apparently. He wanted to assess the level of sweat on her body after a day’s work.

“Bloody hell,” she said, “that curry I had had lunch time is still hot in my mouth.”

She put on a white bra and white thong. God, her arse looked irresistible in that thong. It barely covered the goods when she bent down to pick up the black tongs of her hair straightener. Then she put on her grey jeans and a tight-fitting black top. She chose a circular, bronze pendant for a necklace which matched the buckle on her jeans, like too eastern suns at the end of a long autumn day. She wore her short suede jacket and slipped on her boots so she was almost as tall as me.

Lee answered the door in nothing but a pair of silk, black rugby shorts and with a tooth brush out of the corner of his beaming mouth.

“Take a seat on the sofa over there. I’ll be two minutes.”

With that, he half-jogged back up the stairs of what was a large hall. He’d kept himself in good shape and I noticed Dee’s lovely eyes taking in the tanned physique that climbed the stairs. He was certainly thick-set. He had big muscular legs, and a broad muscular back which bore a huge tattoo of an eagle. It’s wings accentuated the muscularity of the man as he moved - a powerful man who never flinched from a rugby tackle.

We drank from the ready-poured wine. Dee drank quickly, too quickly. I told her to take her time although I knew she could hold her drink better than me. I poured her another. It was warm in the room, almost too warm, though the fire was fake coal. The ground floor was open plan, so you could see into other rooms.

“Come!” Lee had appeared in the dining room which was off to our left. There was no dining table but, instead, a waist-high physiotherapist’s couch. It had a white sheet laid over the top. He was beckoning to us. There were a couple of naff paintings on the wall – sunsets, but otherwise the room, which had block floors, was bare. Lee brought in a wooden chair and placed it against the wall, parallel with the couch.He gestured and I sat on it.

“Dee, you okay?” Lee asked, smiling. “Okay, yes” said Dee, though her voice had lowered and was a bit shaky. Lee extended a muscular arm and touched her dimpled chin. “Don’t worry. You’ll enjoy this. I promise. And you’ll never sweat too much again.”

Dee nodded, half-smiling. “Now, you go put this on and come back.” He’d handed her a white, towelling dressing gown. She walked away to change and Lee added. “But leave your pants on, just your pants.” He chuckled as she strode out of the room, head lowered. I knew that walk. It feigned confidence but wasn’t afraid. Her arse looked great in those grey jeans. A woman of twenty would have been proud of one similarly rounded. It was an arse built for fucking.

It was then that it hit me, what I was allowing to happen.

“It’s simply a massage, isn’t it?” I said to Lee.

“Of course, of course” muttered Lee, as he produced a small bottle of oil from his shorts. “You relax, my friend, and sit over there, on the chair. She’s in my hands now.”

My chair was against the wall, a good few yards from the couch, far enough to feel out of things but close enough to see what was about to happen. Lee turned up the volume of the soft lighting though there was no soothing waterfall soundtrack or other such crap, just quiet and the sound of Dee’s bare-footed thud down the stairs. I felt a surge of adrenalin. It rose from my feet to my face as Dee patted in wearing the dressing gown.

She’d tied her black hair back into a pony tail. She looked more beautiful than ever, her green eyes darting uncertainly this way and that, her palpable cheeks blushing slightly.

“Ok” said Lee, quickly. “Dee, you stand in front of me here.” She did as she was told. “And put out your tongue as far as it will go.” She stuck out her long tongue, slowly. She stood at about 5ft 5 now and looked up to Lee.

“Good, good” said Lee. “Now keep it out and untie the chord of your gown.” As she dutifully did – tongue still out and resting on her dimpled chin - he slipped his big hands inside her dressing gown at the shoulders and, in one movement, slipped the white garment off her back. It fell about her ankles and I watched the two of them there, their profiles – she naked in her white thong, he in his black shorts.

I think I must have known at this stage what was on the cards but I couldn’t speak. I just looked at them together. Their bodies somehow seemed right beside each other, a good match. They shared a strength, both black-haired,big-boned but lean, and grounded, strong-thighed. She had always looked a bit Mediterranean, though there was a touch of the oriental about her tonight as she craned her neck up to his face and he held her by the chin, still examining her tongue. Her midriff was level with the tops of his giant thighs.

She must have found it strange, after years of sharing her nakedness with a slimmer, shorter man, to be standing so close to such a larger frame, and in nothing but her skimpy white thong. Lee clearly still worked out a lot – huge biceps and pecs, a rock-hard six pack… And she must have known what was going to happen, that her strong, supple, womanly body was about to come alive again, big time. It was a fantasy we’d shared for a long time, one of us with another partner while the other watched.

Maybe I imagined it, but I’m sure she half-raised an arm to touch his six-pack. He took it away and told her to climb onto the couch and lie on her back. She did so and, whether or not she was aware of it herself, both Lee and I could see, as she mounted it from the side, with her back to me, that the string of her thong was scant cover for either her brown-eye or her shaven cunt lips, half of which were showing, protruding, like ripe fruit from a small hammock. Although it was nothing more than a second’s glimpse of that pleated fruit, a mere moment’s exposure of her puckered anus’s sepia shadow, it was enough to bring it home again, the fact that Lee was the first other male in fifteen years to glimpse her in this state.

I felt better when she was lying on the couch. Lee poured out some oil onto his palm and made her raise her arms above her head. He sniffed both her armpits and she tried to suppress a giggle, or pretended to. He applied some oil, slowly at first and only to the dints of her arm pits. Then he applied some oil to each breast and quite firmly kneaded it in, a breast in each palm. Dee was quiet and stared at the ceiling. By the time he stepped back to apply some oil to the soles of her feet, her pert nipples were standing up.

“You okay?” Lee smiled at me. I nodded. “Women sweat in three areas” he explained – “arm-pits, feet and” – he paused – “there, in the spice-box.” He pointed to the hard mound beneath her thong.

“And I will cure all three for your wife. I will be this Loris Lane’s Chinese Superman!”

Dee raised her head to look curiously at me but it was at this point that Lee asserted his control. He sped round the table. “Head down!” he snapped. Firmly, he pressed her head down on the couch, so she lay on her left cheek, away from my line of vision. It was weird, how the two of them had slipped so easily into these master-slave roles.

Lee then went to the foot of the couch and sprang up on all fours, parting her legs slightly at the ankles. She had thick strong ankles and strong, solid feet. She also had large, shapely calf muscles though her thighs were slim and sturdy. Lee put his nose down, like a dog, and sniffed her cunt through the thong.

“God, what is she thinking right now?” I wondered.

He gently moved the thong to one side, exposing the bare folds of her cunt, and rubbed in some oil. As he did so, she wriggled her bum a bit but he held her firmly in place with his other hand. She was still again, but for her breasts rising up and down.

It was then that Lee casually peeled down his shorts to his knees and began to apply the oil to his flaccid member. I should say that, limp thing as it was, the shorts must have barely hidden it, for it hung as far down as the lower end of his right thigh, longer than six inches, the length of a normal penis when erect.

“I have to put the oil inside and my prick will do the job,” he laughed.

“Hey, Dee. Sit up and help!” He was sharp with her but she sat up and, to my astonishment, let him pour the oil into her outstretched palms. She then kneeled herself in front of him, so they were both kneeling, almost touching. She didn’t look over at me but cupped Lee’s enormous balls in her hand and then – like an expert herself – worked the oil along his rapidly hardening prick. It took less than fifteen seconds I’d say, for it to rise and widen to the beast it was, higher and higher, closer and closer to her bowed face. I couldn’t tell but it must have been at least a foot, rising to his chest level. I had not realised pricks could grow to such lengths. To my horror, she grabbed the base, one hand over the other, leaving still a good six inches exposed. She then motioned to take it into her mouth but Lee grabbed her head, firmly again.

“No!. Lie back.” She was moved back down, yet again, to the lying position. I watched from my chair, getting harder. Lee straddled her entire body, as if about to do a press up. In one slick motion, and with her damp white thong still pulled to one side, he slipped the entire length of his monster into her naked cunt.

At the first thrust, Dee’s arms and legs rose, very mechanically. This was an action – prick in-prick out..arms/legs up-arms/legs down… that I watched repeated 500 times. Lee was counting to 500, in Chinese. He might have been trying to break some time-record for press-ups. The clock on the wall had turned from 9.00 to 9.10 and about every 60 seconds or thereabouts, Dee would cry “Yes, yes, yes!” and she orgasmed. Over and over, with each thrust her knees and arms would raise up, like a rag doll beneath him, or like they were both two parts of the same industrial machine. Was it a dance or was it industry?

How Lee didn’t come sooner I don’t know, but when he did, he pulled out just in time to drench pints of the stuff over Dee’s breasts and face. She was truly drenched. Lee dismounted and gave me a wink and a smile. I was speechless. He turned on a brighter, overhead light and I could see that her cunt had reddened with all the friction, not that she was bothered. She just lay there, moaning. “Yes… oh yes. Lee. Oh yes.”

She was even gathering up the residue of his come from her breasts and face and putting it into her mouth.

“I think she want some more,” Lee said to me. I was still hard. I just stared at him, bewildered at how my wife had so easily turned into his sex slave.

“Now turn over!” This sounded more of an order than an instruction but Dee rolled onto her side and then dragged herself up into a kneeling position, assuming the shape of a pale, giant pear which accentuated the size of her bum.He vaulted up behind her again. Both were sweating now, shining. His huge muscles shone like rocks at a high tide.

He pushed her head and her strong narrow back forward and down, so her bum was in the air. What a site that was. He was rock hard still. He put his hand between her buttocks and clenched something, then he ripped off her wet thong in one movement. She did scream, “Yowza!” when this happened. Now she was completely naked, shaven and naked. You could just make out a tan-line across her arse, still fading from the summer, the flesh on her lovely buttocks being slightly paler, like she was still wearing a pair of invisible pants.

He parted her lovely buttocks and examined her anus like it was a strange flower he’d never seen before. Frowning, he oiled a finger and stirred it around inside her back passage.

“She anal yet?” he asked. I shook my head and half-covered my eyes. Crouching above the pale full moon of her arse he slid his impossible length into her brown-eye. Dee gasped and then moaned, an aroused moan. I wondered if any woman had ever been so aroused, and whether she was doing some of this for me, knowing we’d always shared such fantasies.

“I give her fuck to remember!” he laughed. “Yeah! Ridem, cowboy.” Dee was even noisier. Swearing too.

“Fuck, ahgh! Oooh, Yes… Lee. Go on! Fuck!…”

She’d never taken anal properly before, yet he seemed to get most of his massive member into her. He grabbed her right buttock in his right hand , hard, a vice-like grip that dug into the flesh. With his left hand he gripped and tugged at her pony tail, like it was a horse’s rein. Then he let go of it and covered her face with his strong hand, inserting the middle two fingers into her mouth, which she bit at each orgasm. He tugged her face towards me as he thrusted, squashing her lovely features a little. But she wore the mask of her master’s hand willingly, writhing her buttocks and not letting up with that moaning. He then moved his free hand to the hanging pears of her breast. I could see he was tweaking the nipples, turning them like knobs on a radio, tuning the channel towards her next orgasm.

He then, inexplicably, reached across to his abandoned shorts and removed two clothes pegs. These he applied, one to each of her hanging nipples.

“Mmmmm, Yesss!” was Dee’s reaction to this, though they looked strange, like two thin beaks bobbing around and against her pumping stomach. He then worked her clitoris again, after lubricating his palm with his tongue. She was his anal virgin alright, and he’d also had the privilege to be first to fuck her newly shaven cunt.

This stunning woman, my wife, my love, in the prime of her life, a professional woman who, just hours earlier, had been managing a team of people in a busy working environment, had played the submissive virgin for Lee. She was his virgin twice over.

It had been about fifteen minutes and Lee’s hard snake was still dancing inside my wife’s anus.

“Hey, Dee. This lovely arse of yours. It would look good with a small tattoo, not a massive one like mine – maybe a rose, or a butterfly, or my name, Ha!Ha! … Wha you think, Dee?”

“Mmm” came a muffled reply. “Yes, mmmm tattoo.” Then I saw Lee frown above her. He was coming, coming deeply into her previously unexplored back lane. And she was coming too, “Aghhhh! Lee!Yes! Yes! Yes! Yowza!”

Lee withdrew his prick from her anus and there was a loud farting noise. Lee waved his hand in front of his scewed up nose and grinned over at me.

“Don’t move!” he ordered, as he slipped off her and Dee maintained the position of a giant lightbulb, resting on the couch with her head buried in her hands and her two holes in the air. After removing the clothes pegs from her nipples, Lee beckoned me over.

“Wait there. Be right back,” he said.

I stared at my wife’s arse in the air. She was still moaning blissfully into the couch. There was a large, red crater where his prick had been. What had seemed a tight brown nut to crack was a large, scooped out strawberry, about three inches in diameter. And there was semen oozing and bubbling about its edges.As more and more of it surfaced, Lee’s come trickled down her crack so that it slipped into the other gaping crater of her cunt. Lee returned. Dee was still moaning, blissful moans of pleasure.

“You take pic!” said Lee, thrusting a camera in my hand. Then, like some mad fisherman keen to be photographed with his prize catch, Lee wrapped an arm around Dee’s small waist and leant his cheek against her bulbous arse –so that the pic I took, from the back of the couch, was of a woman’s arse and thighs, framed by Lee’s muscular arm and with Lee grinning, making an enthusiastic thumbs-up sign. I suppose it could have been any woman’s arse but it was Dee’s. Carried away with the sight I took a few shots of his anal virgin’s hole. I was used to taking pics of her arse, but had never recorded it in this state of arousal, dripping with another man's come.

Lee snatched the camera back and left it on the floor.

He looked like he’d washed off his sweat and, with Dee in the same, submissive pose, he moved around to her head and firmly turned it sideways towards his giant prick. It was almost fully erect again and he slapped it about her cheeks and chin before letting her take it, as much as she could of it, into her lovely mouth.

She grabbed its base again, with her right hand, wanking it while sucking it. Her technique worked because it was only a minute or so before I heard him cry out. She moaned that pleasure-moan again as he spurted into her mouth. Now Dee never swallows. She spits. But she swallowed on this occasion. She swallowed and gulped and then sighed, looking up at me as she wiped her mouth with her arm. Then, for the first time in weeks, she burst out laughing.

Lee was lying on the floor. He’d finally had enough. I helped Dee off the couch and we kissed on the lips. Throughout her marathon with Lee neither had kissed the other. It was pure, athletic sex. We kissed on the lips and I held her hot body against mine. She put her hand down to my jeans and unzipped me. She led me by the prick out of the room, yanking it a few times before it spurted over her feet and we stopped to kiss again. We loved each other. Lee had fallen asleep and was snoring, loudly. She dressed and we let ourselves out, quietly, suppressing laughter, repeating “Fuckin hell!”

Lee phoned me to say goodbye the next day, and to pass on his “regards” to Dee. He was going back up North with his rugby club.

Dee had not sweated so much at work over the following three months. We were lounging about one Saturday morning, discussing this, Lee in just her pants and vest - her pubic hair had grown back to its usual full black triangle, hiding the pouting mound that had stayed red for a day or so after Lee’s departure - when a brown parcel landed on the mat. It was addressed to me but contained something white in a plastic bag and what looked like some photographs. There was a note: “Dear Both, Hope you are well and that Lee no longer sweats so much at work. Thought she like might her thong back, which she left in the house, also these two photographs. The rugby team enjoyed the one of Dee’s arse. It could have been any woman. Don’t worry, They don’t know who owns the lovely arse. By the way, does it sport a tattoo yet, Dee? My team is playing down your way again, day after tomorrow. Maybe you’d like to come round again. I’ll ring. Best wishes. Lee.”

We stared at each other, open-mouthed. Then Dee grinned and opened the plastic bag. She took out her torn thong and threw it to me, jokingly. I sniffed it.

“Yuk. He hasn’t washed it.”

I threw it back to her. “Of course he hasn’t”, she said, “it smells of that night.” She pressed it to her face.

She then took out the two photographs. The first was the fisherman’s trophy one I’ve described – Dee’s gaping, come-covered holes. “Bastard!” she said, though she wasn’t really angry. “At least it’s anonymous” I said.

The second photo was strange. It was a close up of an erect, circumsized penis beside a white, twelve-inch ruler. The penis was about an inch taller than the ruler. On the back, Lee had written, “For Dee, in case she needs reminding.” Dee shook her head, then gave it to me and tutted, half-smiling.

“Well, I’m going upstairs to get dressed and then I’m going shopping.”

She paused at her work table, to pick up her own, white twelve-inch ruler. She examined it in her palm, for about a minute, as if in a trance. Then she shook her head and put it down again.

Later that night, after Dee had gone to bed, I saw her shopping list on the floor. She was always making and losing lists. I looked at it.

In Dee’s unusually shaky handwriting, it read: Supermarket - shampoo, curry powder, spices, razor blades, shaving foam, light bulbs, fruit – peaches, apples, pears, nuts, strawberries – large cucumber … Town: lipstick, nail varnish, short black skirt, new white bra, new white thong… "Fresh Skin" Fresh Skin? Then I remembered, it was the name of a newly opened shop in town, tattoo parlour.

End.