I married the prettiest little blonde girl that anyone could ever have imagined. The year was 1963, just before mini skirts and rock and roll. I met her in my second year up at Cambridge University. I was a working class scholarship boy; she was the daughter of a wealthy barrister. We met at the annual ball. She was wearing a knee length white ball gown. The bodice was shimmering satin, fitting her ample breasts like a pair of gloves. The skirt was all fluffy, standing out over her slender tan seamed stocking clad and slender legs like a ballet dancer’s tutu. Her blonde shoulder length ringlets made her well made up face, with cherry painted pouting lips, look like one of the devil’s angels. She was a rather small size 8, with aristocratic high cheekbones. It was lust at first sight. I just had to get her outside and giver her good snog. While I was doing this, having pulled her dress up to reveal satin petticoat and stocking tops, a gang of local teddy boys came along and, in rather crude terms, suggested I gave the girl a good seeing to. I was excited by their brutality and pulled my girlfriends dress higher, giving them a glimpse of her roll on girdle, stocking tops, taut suspenders and tight satin panties, before pulling them to one side. To my amazement I felt a bald and moist slit. ‘I want to fuck you’ I said in trembling tones. ‘Oh my God, do me in front of those morons. It will make me cum so hard. I needed no encouragement, soon having my hard little dick out of my trousers. I was soon fucking her up against the wall, while the morons roared encouragement. When I was spent, I felt terrible humiliation and embarrassment. My future wife, Lavinia, had not cum. I pulled out of her moist slit and the gang leader stepped up and asked for his turn. ‘Do you want him? ‘ I asked my girlfriend. ‘Yes’ she whimpered. I watched in horror and delight as this moron and his five friends fucked my obviously not young virgin bride to be into the most earth shattering of orgasms. I was so excited, I knew I had to marry her. We have obviously been into what was called the wife swapping scene- though many of the men Lavinia had in the sixties and seventies were the sort of men who would never find wives. Lavinia is still a beauty and we regularly visit dogging sites, looking for the worst of men, in spite of our professional status.