I'm writing this on commission as it were, by one of the participants who wanted to record it for posterity, but didn't have the confidence to write it all herself. Well, you be the judge. The names have been changed to protect the guilty of course, and I may have been a little creative where my memory let me down on detail, but overall it's all true. Anyway, over to her... "One of the loveliest things about being long married is the way things can often go unsaid, but still be understood. Years of familiarity, of time spent in each others' company, leave you just knowing what makes for a great time, from paths that aren't worth treading. It's less straightforward for things that were never said, never shared or maybe just never properly explored in the first place. Sex can be one of those things. Don't get me wrong, we've always had a wonderful sex life, but we both knew it had been, and might have remained, a bit unadventurous until a very memorable evening with a man called Grant. John had played on sites like this before we met, and I've always trusted him enough to let him continue his hobby even now. In any case, as a single man on the site he doesn't really get to see a lot of action, bless him. He did persuade me to explore on my own, and while I know he'd like me to be more active, I have dabbled enough to have thoroughly enjoyed my few experiences, but I think I lack the stamina or determination to make it anything other than a now-and-then thing. Grant was different though. Grant was someone we both invited in deliberately to push the boundaries, to see what too much exclusive togetherness might have kept from us. In other words, to find out what we might be missing. He was older than us, but that was nice. He felt like someone we could trust, and his manner was charming and relaxing. We talked about this and that. nervous chit-chat mostly, until Grant took control and told us how he'd like the evening to go. Actually he was more upfront than that; he said very calmly that he'd like to take control. This was a bit unexpected, but I was up for it, and I could see John was too. It all started calmly enough. Grant told me to stand up and show off my charms to these two men. I was very awkward to start with, and I jokily experimented with things I hadn't tried since I was a teenager. Nothing blatant, just a coquettish swing of the hips, a blown kiss, and a forward tilt to accentuate my cleavage. To be honest it could have become embarrasing, but Grant took all that away with his compliments and his words of encouragement. John didn't say anything, but the look on his face spoke volumes. In the face of such open admiration I was very happy to keep it going. Grant put a stop to it though. He said seeing us watching might make me self-conscious (which obviously it did) and to avoid such distraction, and to help me to concentrate on my body, I should be blindfolded. I hadn't expected this. But I had agreed to let Grant take control, so after a moment's hesitation I agreed. And it did make a difference. I couldn't see anything, so the sound of Grant's voice became soother, calmer, but somehow more authoritative. With no objection from him, and withough seeing his face, I had to assume it was all alright with John, so what the hell? "You know, you have really, really lovely legs; I think we should see more, please". I gathered a fistful of the fabric into each hand on either side and lifted an inch or two. "Higher." I moved the hem higher, and then again without being prompted, to the level of my stocking tops. "A bit more." I could hear movement as both men shuffled around. "Don't stop there; we need to see your knichers." After a pause I lifted the skirt slowly, right up until I knew I would just be exposing the crotch of my lacy pants. "Lovely. Lovely. Although I think at this point that skirt might as well come right off." When I hesitated, unsure, gentle hands took the material from my hands, then undid the zip and dropped the garment to the floor. It had to be John, and that told me how OK he was with the way things were going. I stepped out of my skirt and heard it thrown to one side. I was in the middle of the room, very exposed from the waist down, to two men. And Grant was right, the blindfold forced me to focus on my own body, and amplified the sensations, the low breathing of the men; the slightly chill air on my upper legs and belly. Knowing I had their attention, and imagining their silent appreciation was quite intoxicating. "Wow. Yes, really quite lovely. But you do look overdressed. John, can you help us there?" I heard John move up close behind me, reach his arms round my waist, and start unbuttoning my blouse. It felt weird. On the one hand it had all the familiarity of my husband undressing me seductively, as he had done a hundred times before. But at the same time I realised he was literally opening me up to the gaze of a stranger. I remember feeling a physical thrill pass through my whole body as my vulva spasmed briefly. "I hope you realise you have our full attention. Turn around, show us your charms again." And I did. But this time it wasn't awkward. I knew I was seducing them, and that their eyes would be fixed on me. My body responded naturally, swinging my weight from one leg to the other, massaging my breasts and pinching my nipples through the bra, turning my back to where I thought they both were and provocatively leaning forward to accentuate my bum. After a while I realised I'd lost track of who was where, so when I heard a brief whisper, and a man moving, I had no idea who it was. He came right up to me, held my hips in both hands to still me, then knelt in front ot me. I could feel his breath on my upper thighs. His hands reached up to the top of my pants and started gently drawing them down. When the wasteband reached the top of my pubic hair he pressed me to turn through 180 degrees, then drew them down at the back, past my bum. Then he used his thumbs to pull my cheeks apart and held them there. I felt a wet tongue suddenly lick the top of the crack. It was fleeting, but the feeling of exposed intimacy was electrifying. He turned me round again, and continued drawing the pants down until I could step out of them. But he stayed there, and started to nuzzle my pubic area, until eventually I felt that same tongue pop out, this time to lick my clitoris - just once, but roughly - and I moaned with excitement. I still had no idea who this was, and that made it doubly exciting. Was it my familiar partner, making love to me as he had so many times, but now with a voyeur witness to our intimacy? Or was it Grant, a stranger probing my sex, right in front of my willing husband? Either way was fine by me, and since they were both clearly ok with it I was looking forward to the next step. Movement. The body in front of me stood up and moved away. More movement as they walked around me, very much the centre of their attention. It was lovely. Then Grant's voice was right in my ear, soft, almost a whisper, but authoritative. "I think we need to take off that bra, don't you?" I reached up to unhook it, but was stopped with a gentle hand. "Don't worry, we can manage." Four hands now worked on me, unhooking the bra, bringing down the straps over my arms, dropping the cups away from my breasts. The bra was flung aside; the hands stayed in place. I have all sorts of memories of first-time lovers fumbling my breasts, but this was very different. As I stood there, a willing gift to their combined lust, four hands carressed my whole front from throat to navel, weighing and stroking each breast in turn, pressing them together, pulling them apart, gentle pressure and brief tweaking with fingers, then mouths, on the nipples which I could feel harden in response to their touch. I lay my head back, my front arched out, and drank in the joy of their attention. After a while it stopped. I realised I was breathing heavily. "People often say that the most difficult thing about being the centre of attention is knowing what to do with your hands." Grant again. "So, I'm going to make it easier for you by tying yours together. So you won't have to think about it." At this point I'm leaving things entirely to John. If he had any doubts I know he would have stepped in; and if he didn't it meant he wanted this to continue. He didn't. Grant walked up to me, stood behind, and gently drew both hands together. I felt soft material being wrapped round both wrists, holding them, a few inches apart but firmly bound to each other. I allowed myself to imagine the scene as I stood there, as Grant had said, the centre of attention of two enthusiastic voyeurs, with my hands bound, naked apart from the very expensive suspenders and stockings I'd deliberately chosen to arouse. I felt both vulnerable and powerful, and very, very excited. "We mustn't let you get tired. Come." He led me by the hand across the room. I stepped gingerly at first, but realised that was silly and Grant would take perfect care of me. We got to the sofa, and he turned me round so I could sit down in the middle of it. "Lie back." I did, my hands supporting the small of my back, and as I did so found John's mouth coming down from above as he stood behind the settee. It should have been a kiss I recognised well, but he was upside down, so even my husband's kiss was excitingly unfamiliar. I reached up toward him, hungry for his kiss, and only realised that Grant was at my feet on the floor when I felt his warm hands gently pressing my knees apart. I yielded, opening my legs to him without question, stranger or not. He pressed them as wide as comfort would allow. Bizzarely it crossed my mind to be glad that I had taken some time earlier to tidy up my pubic triangle. I knew he was looking at little more than a narrow strip of hair, and that my pussy would have pretty much opened itself up to his inspection like a rose greeting the morning sun. But with John now massaging my breasts and nipples again I switched my attention back to him, leaving Grant to indulge himself however he chose. I couldn't ignore him for long though. "Mmmmmmmm, you are so wet." Grant's fingers were inside me, one hand reaming my well lubricated pussy, while finger and thumb of the other was rubbing my distended clitoris up and down, like a tiny cock. I moaned into my husband's mouth as I recognised the early stirrings of orgasm deep inside me. I pressed myself further back, pushing my vulva forward towards Grant's hands, willing him to increase the pressure on my clit. But he didn't. Instead the bastard eased off, keeping me just short of climax, until eventually he stopped and said "that must be getting uncomfortable on your arms. Whe don't you turn over?" And without waiting for response he held my hips and firmly rolled me over so that I ended up on my knees, my shoulders resting on the back of the sofa, my head draped over the other side where I assumed John still was. But he wasn't. I felt four hands pressing my thighs apart, a coalition encouraging my knees wider and wider. Then both men started a slow, thorough massage of my whole body. One - I assumed John - moved up over my bum, up my back and round to cup and massage my heavy breasts. The other pressed into the flesh of my legs all the way down to my feet, then back up on the inside of my thighs towards my aching crotch. Then I felt his thumbs working into my pussy, opening it out... He must have been able to see deep inside me. I turned my attention back to John, seeking him out with my lips, inviting him to kiss me again. I was rewarded with a different kind of kiss, buterfly delicate, his lips just brushing against mine, tiny kisses encircling my mouth, teasing and tantalising. But I wanted more. I was hungry for the feel of him, his mouth full on mine. In fact so engrossed was I in trying to ensnare my husband's mouth into mine that I lost track of what was happening further down my body. At the intellectual level anyway - the animal part of me was just thrilling to the multiple points of arousal, but when our mouths did finally settle into a long, sensual kiss, I became aware of the gentle massage around the centre of my anus. In fact I realised this had been going on for so long that the massage had actually turned into a gentle but very definite probe, only a little, but that was definitely a fingertip inside me. Here's the thing about anal sex. I have no objection to it, but in all the years we'd been together John and I had never done it. I think because years ago he'd asked me what I thought, and I said something like "not really something I'm interested in", and probably because of that neither of us had ever suggested it. But the reality now was different. Now I was excited, partly by the sensations themselves, partly the simple unfamiliarity of it all. I sensed something pass between the men. The kiss broke off, and and I felt him move across the room, then return, and the kiss continued. Behind me the massage stopped, and I felt something cool dropping onto my flesh, then the fingers returned, but slippery now, and I delighted in the feel of oily hands massaging and probing the ring of my anus. The finger withdrew, more oil, then it returned, more pressure, but still gentle, and I realised it was sliding all the way in. I pushed myself back towards him, a clear, unspoken signal "yes, please, that's nice". I relaxed into the tiny thrust in and out of that finger, and was thinking of concentrating back to the kiss, and the fingertips scraping up and down my breasts, when the finger in my arse withdrew fully out, and in its place I felt the round mass of an erect cock. I realised there was finally something I could do with my hands, and I opened the palms, fingers spread across the cheeks, and pulled them apart, inviting a slow, deliberate penetration. And then a voice right in my ear "you're enjoying that, aren't you". I was bewildered, then shocked. It was Grant's breath on my face, Grant's lips on mine, Grant's fingers on my breasts. The cock poised at the entrance to my welcoming anus wasn't Grant's but John's. For an instant I felt somehow tricked, but that was quickly replaced with feelings of affection as my long-term lover pressed on. And suddenly, with a sort of pop, he was inside. And it was fine, discomfort maybe, but nothing like what I'd expected, and that was soon replaced by the affection I felt for him and his obvious pleasure. I closed my fingers round his cock, wanking it, urging him in, encouraging his orgasm. And it came, very quickly. We all slowed down to witness John's pleasure, and he finally withdrew. "Take this sodding mask off" I cried, and they both laughed, but Grant was quick to reach down and remove my blindfold. I looked at both of them, stark naked, cocks erect, though John's noticably wilting. Grant knelt and offered his face to mine, but it was only for a brief kiss. Then he broke off, and stood, his cock quivering inches from my face. I opened my mouth in invitation, and he moved forward to enter me. I've always been a bit smug about my skills here, but I realised that this was somehow different. Grant was gentle, and slow, but was going deeper into my mouth. And then he left it there, almost fully in my mouth, and said "just relax your throat". I pulled back, took a deep breath, and pushed forward again. This time when his cock reached the back of my throat I allowed it to push further, right to my throat. And then I gagged and pulled back - a reflex action, and the men both laughed, but kindly, with me not at me. "Try again" I said, and this time I managed it, taking this gorgeous cock deep into my mouth, until my lips reached his balls. I was a bit nervous, and amazed at the thought that this man was fucking my whole head, but intensely proud. I'd done it. Grant was gentle, but rocked back and forth, in and out, and I knew his sensitive glans was being massaged at the tightest point of my throat. Then, to my relief to be honest, he pulled back and just contented himself with fucking the length of my tongue. As he did this I felt Johns cock, erect once more, pressing at the opening of my pussy. He slipped straight in and began wild, urgent fucking. In almost no time I felt Grant's body stiffen, and his back arched, as he prepared to come. With the sudden, stark mental image of me, hands-tied, spit-roasted by these two men so obviously enjoying my body, I felt my own climax suddenly rushing up. John didn't come a second time then, but he told me after of the thrill of seeing the explosive, simultaneous orgasm of his wife of many years, and this new friend, until we all three collapsed out of breath. Minutes later I was relieved of my bonds, giving back my hands, at which point a whole new range of possibilities opened up for us when we finally made our way to the bedroom to continue our play. But that, as they say, is for another time."