Written by Damien

7 Jul 2009

My Wife’s Gym Classes Part Five

For a few minutes I wondered if anything would happen. I looked at my wife who was looking down at her lap. She was sitting like a statue. I noticed she was trembling slightly. Next thing I heard was the metallic creak of the huge truck door opening. Watching in my mirror, I saw a great big fat man appear on the ground behind the driver’s door. He stood for a moment, looking either way as if to check who was about. Then I heard the roar of another big diesel engine as another juggernaut pulled into the lay by.

I watched it approach in the mirror. My wife looked at me and I sensed my wife’s apprehension. Then she reached into the glove compartment and took out her lipstick. It wasn’t a trashy colour but it was quite bright red and glossy. I looked back in my mirror to see if the fat truck driver was approaching, but he was walking away from us, along the side of his massive trailer. My wife was using the vanity mirror to perfect her lipstick. Then she reached for her perfume spray. She always took a little one with her, especially in warm weather.

Then I noticed the fat man appear from behind his trailer and approach the cab of the other truck. He was talking to the other driver. For a moment I thought he was not really interested in my wife. Then my heart skipped a beat as both men came into sight. Sweat stains were viisible on their tee shirts and there were moisture patches under their arms. They looked rough and scruffy, with big hands and bare muscular arms. Those arms and hands could crush her private places. They were looking our way and the fat man was pointing toward our car. My heart skipped a beat. Sarah was blushing, her little head bowed in the direction of her lap, sunlight making her French pleat look even more golden.

‘Take your hands away from your lap, drop them by your sides.’ I ordered. Almost in a trance, she complied and I flipped up the front panel of her tennis skirt to show of the tight vee of satin and lace pulled tightly across her mound.

Even with her thighs pressed together, the flat satin gusset of her panties was on clear view and her pussy slit well outlined. The pretty lace panel on the tight vee of her panties made her look very feminine and upper class. She was far too good for two hefty truckers. They all looked oily, rough and dirty. Their minds were bound to be even dirtier. Looking from these mens’ ugly faces in the car mirror, to my wife’s pampered tight little pussy; I could feel the pre cum building up inside my silk under pants. ‘Do you want this?’ I whispered, almost choking on my words, shaking with excitement and fear.

‘Yes’ she said softly. ‘They look very rough and ugly.’ I replied, looking down at the panty covered pussy they were going to invade. My penis was bursting. I breathed deeply to calm myself. ‘Are they? It doesn’t matter if you are happy.’ I sighed, then squeezed my penis which was rising up against the material of my shorts.

We could hear the men talking about us because the car hood was down. They were not saying nice things. I heard the fat one say: ‘There’s a posh little slut in that car there, her husband pulled her skirt up and showed me her knickers. Bloody tennis skirt an all, bitch is askin' fer it, cunts bursting out of her panties. Reckon we can do ‘er an’ e’ll let us I’ll giver er a right ‘ammering an I’m gonna fist her. I got a right ard on when I saw her fancy little knicker covered cunt. Thighs are so skinny yer be able to get yer ‘ands in their even if she tries closing her legs..’ ‘Got any rubbers asked the tall guy. ‘Won’t need them, She’s new to it I reckon, looks nervous and stuck up.’ ‘ She’ll be bloody stuck up when I get my fat cock in ‘er fanny.’ Said the other. I knew my wife could hear all of this. Her hands were down by her sides, she was completely vulnerable to them, head bowed and Frechh pleated golden hair shining in the sunshine.

The other juggernaut driver must have been over six-foot with a skinhead haircut. They both wore rough looking trousers, tee shirts and heavy boots. I took one last look at my vulnerable petite wife as they drew nearly level with us. Then both of us just stared at our laps, and were like lambs to the slaughter.

The next thing we heard was a northern voice saying to me, ‘She looks very nice.’ I looked around and saw both men leering across at my wife in her little tennis dress and top, her satin and lace high cut panties on display to their vulgar gaze. I looked at my wife. She looked very nervous. Her hands were still by her side, her availability not quite obvious but they could tell.

The tall guy walked slowly around to my wife’s side of the car and was staring hungrily at her satin covered pussy. ‘You look very nice’ he said, leering at her. His voice was deep. Both of them reeked of sweat. His face was big, his eyes brown and bulging. His skinhead look made him look very dangerous. She trembled and moaned as he reached in to pull her little white tennis skirt even higher. I looked across as he asked ‘Are you off to play tennis?’ ‘No we have been’ I answered for her, as if to assert my presence because I was unsure how far I wanted it to go. He didn’t look at me. The little satin vee between my wife’s legs was a magnet to his hard eyes.

Her tennis skirt was pulled right up now, exposing the pretty lace around the leg openings of her high cut panties. She was really on display. His big rough hand was pushing down on to the bulging white satin covered mound of her sex probing her slit through the delicate fabric. She gasped and started whimpering. The fat white man spoke to me. He asked where our tennis rackets were. I said they were in the boot. He told me to get them out.

I looked back at my wife. The skinhead trucker’s thumb was pressing my wife’s clit through her panties while his other fingers touched her slit. My wife was gripping the sides of the leather car seat and wriggling. His other hand started mauling her proud breasts through her top. He was not gong to back off now, his weathered face had that angry look of desire.

Reluctantly I got out of the car to get the rackets. I had left her to their mercy. It was a strange, but very exciting feeling. I struggled not to touch myself. My legs felt weak and I felt dizzy. I was risking so much, but could not help myself.

As I walked to the back of the car, the fat white beer bellied trucker climbed into my seat. By the time I got back to the driver’s door, the man had turned my wife’s face towards him and was kissing her. His hands had taken over groping my wife’s pussy and breasts and he was kissing her hard on her lips. I could tell he was using his tongue. The act was all the more erotic because he was an ugly looking baldie.

My wife was trying to protest as his big hand pushed her panties to one side. ‘It’s got a bald cunt’ he shouted in delight. ‘God I gotta fuck this’ He turned towards the other driver. ‘ Yeh, but I’ll ‘ave ter go first cos me break will be up in forty minutesr. How long you got?’ The big one said his truck was on the blink. ‘Clutch has gone be a couple of hours before any one gets here.’ He said they were bringing a relief driver and said something about a new unit, whatever that was. He said if the bitch was still here when they got here, the two of them would want a poke at her as well.

They seemed to have forgotten me as I stood there holding the two top range tennis rackets. It was exciting and horrifying to see big fingers working their way into her precious little sex slit. ‘We’d better get on and do her then’ said the big skinhead. We’ll do her in my bunk. ‘OK, let’s get her in there then.’ He looked at me, while my wife was still whimpering and her head rocking, and moaning, with her big blue eyes squeezed shut. ‘You bring the rackets and lock your car up., ‘Come on bring the posh little slut with us. We’ll sort her out. It was at this point that I realised I had lost my hard on as anxiety about what was about to happen got the better of my libido.

But when I saw the big skinhead gripping my wife between the legs as he lifted her out of my car, her exquisite virginal upper middle class tennis playing beauty contrasted so much with his uncouth and brutal manners. He was so big up against her size 8 figure .I almost burst my pants. Her neat little white skirt was lifted right up and her panty-covered bottom was completely exposed as he lifted her on to the ground and slammed my car door. As he led her back round to my side of the car, he had the decency to let her skirt fall back into place over her slender white thighs. This was wise because a van had pulled into the truck lay-by.

Once again my wife looked a picture of English tennis playing innocence. As she walked past me she didn’t seem to see me. Her little white pleated tennis skirt made her look so young and vulnerable. Her long slender shapely tanned legs would soon be wrapped around the fat man’s thick kneck, her designer vagina available and pert breast defenceless against his animal urges.

Her face was flushed and she was a wide-eyed and taking small steps with tiny feet. Her white ankle socks made her look like a girl, rather than the respectable upper middle class housewife that she was. Maybe she didn’t want to get where she was going. Maybe I should have stopped it before it went any further, but my penis and balls would not let me.