Sarah and I have been together for nearly twenty-five years. She’s never been a slut, but during that time, she’s had a few ‘adventures’ – but then what sexy little brunette with an angelic face and a great pair of tits hasn’t? To be honest, it’s never bothered me when other guys have leered after her or even made crude comments about her figure. After all, she’s always liked to wear tight clothes that accentuate her curviness – especially her wonderful 36D tits, which are by far her best feature. The way I see it, it’s unreasonable to expect other blokes to look away when she deliberately wears low-cut or scoop tops, or ‘accidentally’ has a couple of buttons too many undone on her blouse. Let’s face it, if a woman delights in showing off her tits, why on earth would anyone want to try to stop her?! Anyway, like I say, she’s more of a tease than a slut. And although she’s always been chatted up or propositioned by blokes desperate to at least get their hands on those magnificent knockers, she’s always been faithful to me. Well, until one Saturday morning about six years ago. She often used to get up before me and watch a bit of telly before making breakfast. This particular morning, she was downstairs in front of the TV, and I was still upstairs in bed, half-asleep, when the doorbell rang. I assumed it was the postman, but I was feeling too dozy to get up and answer it myself. Anyway, Sarah was already downstairs, so she could do it. I vaguely heard her open the door and say ‘Hi’. About ten minutes later, I’d woken up a bit, and realised I still hadn’t heard the door close again. So I got up to see what was going on. Just as I was at the top of the stairs, I heard the front door slam shut. Sarah then opened the door between the hallway and the main room. She was clutching two or three letters and a small parcel. The strange thing was, though, that she only had her pyjama bottoms on. Her tits were completely bare. “What on earth are you doing?”, I said to her. “Just answering the door to the postman”, she replied. “What, without a top on?!”, I said. “Don’t be stupid”, she laughed. “Obviously I put a T-shirt on first. But it’s so hot this morning that I’ve just taken it off again.” At which point she walked into the kitchen. Meanwhile, I didn’t know what to think. But when she was in the kitchen, I went out into the lobby. There was no T-shirt there. I didn’t say anything more, and the day passed uneventfully. That night, though, she came to bed in only her little black bra and knickers – a sure sign she was feeling horny. Sure enough, she was soon all over me. But I’d spent nearly all day thinking about this morning, and I wanted some answers. Not so much because I was annoyed with her, but because I definitely felt excited that my sexy but respectable little wife might for once have gone beyond being a cock-teasing flirt and actually done something with another man. First of all when I asked her, she didn’t say anything (mind you, that was probably because she had my cock in her mouth at the time). But she continued to say that nothing had happened until, finally, I said that I wouldn’t mind if it had. She was a bit taken aback by that. Eventually, though, she realised that I meant what I said. She then lay beside me, absentmindedly holding and playing with my ever-swelling cock while she told me the whole story. It had all started two or three weeks ago, she said. A new postman had started to deliver the letters. He was only about eighteen or nineteen, she reckoned, and was pretty powerfully built. I knew she’d always been attracted to much younger men (she was 38 at the time, so literally old enough to be this kid’s mum), so it was no surprise to me when she said she started to flirt with him immediately. Being vain, she’d always bought pyjamas that were a couple of sixes too small, so she tended to bulge out a bit. The size of her tits meant that the pyjama top buttons were always under enormous strain. First time she opened the door to him, she said, it was a pretty cold morning, and her nipples were standing out so much that you could hang your jacket on them. He stared right at them and made some cheeky remark about not realising it was quite THAT cold, and she laughed. Over the next week or two, he called at a regular time, ringing the doorbell every morning just so he could see her standing there in her skimpy, too-small pyjamas (once, apparently, he’d even rung the bell to tell her that we didn’t have any post that day!). On one occasion she’d come to the door drinking from a can of Seven-Up – he told her that she’d make a great Snow White, which made her laugh. Anyway, on the last two or three visits, she’d taken it all a stage further and had undone an extra button on her top every time she went to the door. There were only four buttons on the top anyway, so by the Friday, the top was completely undone. He could see the swell of her tits and her gorgeous, deep cleavage as the shirt hung away, of course, but her bare nipples were still hidden from his view. He tried to pull the two sides of the top away from her tits so that she was completely topless, but she quickly pulled it back, telling him that only her husband was allowed that kind of unrestricted view. Nevertheless, for a brief second or two, she was sure he’d seen her bristols in all their naked glory. Then came Saturday. It was much warmer than it had been of late, so she hadn’t had her pyjama top on in bed, only her bottoms. She had gone downstairs to make breakfast, she said, but had decided to watch a bit of telly first. Flicking through the channels, she saw that MTV were showing an old Duran Duran video of the song ‘Girls On Film’ – the one on the boat with lots of naked models. She used to have a crush on one of the band members, so the combination of a sexy pop video, lots of flesh, and an unexpectedly hot, sultry morning soon got her in the mood. She started playing with her tits (her favourite foreplay – she loves her knockers being stroked and kissed and cuddled), before her fingers slowly found their way down south and dipped into her soaking wet pussy. With the sun streaming in on her, and with a hot video playing, she was just about to come when the doorbell rang. She knew who it was, of course, but for a split second she felt annoyed that she’d been interrupted just at the point when she was about to climax. So there she was – annoyed, aroused, bare-breasted and without a top that she could slip on before she answered the door. For a moment, she said, she thought about rushing upstairs to get her top, which she’d left by the side of our bed. But then she thought – well, why not just answer the door like that? He’d seen pretty much everything already. Why not let him feast his eyes on her big, pendulous, naked tits rather than just give him a quick flash? He’d probably be too taken aback to do anything, instead he’d have to put up with a massive, uncomfortable erection from the rest of his round! The idea of him being prick-teased by someone twenty years older than him made her laugh. So she went to the door, flung it wide open and said ‘Hi’. The kid, of course, nearly fell backwards in amazement. But he didn’t back away. Instead, he groaned ‘Jeeesssuuusss’, dropped the post on the floor and bounded forward into the house, putting his arms around her skinny waist in a kind of bear-hug. As he cuddled her he had both hands on the cheeks of her arse, but quickly slipped his thumbs into the waistband and yanked her pyjama bottoms down. While I was still dozing upstairs, my big-titted 38-year-old wife, who hadn’t been fucked by anyone’s cock but mine for the last twenty years, was completely naked in front of some horny young boy who must have thought all his Christmases had come at once. According to her, though, she hadn’t expected to suddenly be stripped naked. Instead of screaming, though, she reverted to type – and, even though she’s been a good girl most of the time, she DOES love a good hard fucking. Kneeling in front of him, she quickly undid his trousers, freeing his bulging young cock and greedily taking it into her mouth. Apparently he was about the same length as me (seven inches) but much thicker – so much thicker in fact, that apparently she had difficulty taking it all in her mouth. But Sarah loves sucking cock, and, after she’d spit on the cock-head and gently run her tongue over it, she eventually managed to get it all in until he was properly fucking her face. She was close to gagging, she said, when he finally came, emptying the contents of his teenaged balls into her mouth. She loves to swallow, and she made sure that she took every last drop, even though at one stage she thought he’d never stop coming. I wish I had a video of him coming in her mouth. That’s one thing I’d love to see. I must admit that, these days, coming in Sarah’s mouth finishes me for at least an hour or so. But in my late teens, I’d have been hard again within seconds – and so was he. No sooner had she sucked off his thick, meaty cock when Sarah found herself flat on her back in the lobby. Finally able to play with the tits that must have been driving him mad for the last couple of weeks, he made a real meal of them, kissing, sucking and licking the nipples and sticking his cock between those magnificent mounds in the hope of a tit-wank. Nothing doing, though – Sarah’s not keen on anyone coming between her tits, even though she’s got the necessary equipment. She reckons it’s a waste of good sperm. Reluctantly moving on from her tits, he gently kissed and caressed her stomach and belly-button, telling her all the time how gorgeous she was and that she was built for fucking (can’t argue with that). His tongue slowly made its way further down, licking her upper legs and thighs before finally putting her out of her misery by lightly dipping into the rim of her honey-dripping pussy. By this time Sarah was playing with her tits as this kid – whose name she didn’t even know – delved his tongue further and further into her cunt. Sarah loves various aspects of sex, especially sucking and licking cock and having her tits fondled, but her favourite thing of all is having her pussy eaten out. With waves of pleasure coursing through her, finally she came – as hard as she’s ever come before, she reckoned. Once she’d come, he moved up her body so that his cock was nudging her cunt lips. According to her, she tried to tell him no, that she wasn’t on the Pill and that he didn’t have a condom. “Too bad”, he whispered to her. “I’m not getting this close and not getting my cock inside you, you big-titted bitch.” Sure enough, she immediately felt his enormously thick cock ploughing into her pussy and quickly filling her up to bursting point. They soon established a rhythm, by which time she admitted that she didn’t care if he had a condom or not – she just wanted a big, rock-hard cock inside her, and the fact she was having unprotected sex with someone she didn’t know just made it all the more exciting. They came pretty much simultaneously as he shot his load into Sarah’s well-fucked pussy. Sarah was exhausted, but she pulled on her pyjama bottoms again and made sure he was back in his postal uniform before he left the house, banging the door shut behind him (of course, that wasn’t all he’d banged!). It was at this point, Sarah said, that she heard me wandering about upstairs, so she tidied herself up as best she could before she came down – although she didn’t have a top to put on. Needless to say, when she finished telling me this story, we fucked each other’s brains out. As for the postman – he left to go to university a few weeks later, and that was the end of that. However, we’d both got so much out of her little liaison with him that, before he left, I did let Sarah spend the night with him at a local hotel. Of course, she had to give me a detailed account of that night too, including how she came back knickerless after he’d kept her little black panties as a souvenir – but I’ll save that for another time.