The Open Marriage Conundrum

1.

It was the first night that our marriage was officially open for business, and I just couldn’t seem to stop making an ass of myself. We were at a party–our friends Ted and Jackie’s house–and we had given each other permission to go home with whomever we pleased. I had been hitting on everything with tits; and every time I opened my mouth, I stuck my size 10 ½ foot right in.

Malinda Straus, formerly Ted and Jackie’s babysitter, now honors college student, was showing off about a mile of cleavage. I had her backed into a corner, and I was flirting shamelessly. My dick was hard in my pants. I placed my hand on her curvaceous hip. She didn’t flinch or pull away.

“Shall we get out of here?” I asked. “Wanna go for a drive?” Malinda was almost exactly half my age.

“Um, isn’t that your wife over there?”

“Yes, but…” I started to explain, but the moment was gone. With all the skill and agility of an NFL running back, she twisted and squirmed past me, and was gone. I felt like a douche, and my cock advertised that fact to the room, projecting obnoxiously out from the front of my pants. I got myself another drink, and tried to pretend that I didn’t care.

My wife, Lorraine, ended up going home with Chip and Skip, two gay friends of ours. I don’t know if they’re actually married, but if not, they might as well be. Lorraine asked me if I wanted to tag along, and I said ‘Sure’. I certainly didn’t have anything better to do. The three of them took their minivan; I followed them in our car. Alone.

Chip and Skip couldn’t possibly have been more mild-mannered and middle-of-the-road if they tried. Chip was an accountant and Skip worked in marketing. Or the other way around. They looked like they belonged in a Land’s End catalogue. And Chip, at least, was bisexual.

Chip wasn’t especially buff, but he had a pretty big dick, and he waxed off all his body hair, so it looked even bigger. He had a bellybutton ring. Lorraine, still fully dressed in her brown slacks and beige blouse, got down on her knees and started sucking his cock with a gusto and enthusiasm that made me, just an instant, a little bit jealous.

“I could do that for you too,” Skip said. The gay boys’ living room might have been decorated by PeeWee Herman. Skip and I were seated on what looked very much like the flayed hide of Fozzie Bear.

“No, thanks.” I told him.

“OK,” he said.

We watched as Chip undressed my wife, carefully and painstakingly removing each and every article of clothing and folding it neatly and stacking it on a chair before moving on to the next one. It was a strangely, powerfully erotic scene, and hypnotic to watch. By the time she stood nude in front of him, and they started to kiss and make out and touch each other, I was uncomfortably hard.

Chip’s dick just seemed to keep getting longer and harder, the more they fooled around. I wondered just how wet Lorraine was by now. Sopping wet, I was willing to bet.

“You can jerk off if you feel like it,” Skip told me. “I’m going to.”

He was already peeling off his clothes: casual-Friday blue jeans and a button-down shirt, with happy-face boxers underneath. His gear was more reasonable; about the size of my own, with a pronounced upward curve and a tidy patch of closely-trimmed pubic hair.

I was the only one left in the room with clothes on. Feeling more than a little bit self-conscious, I stripped down. My poor long-confined dick gratefully flopped free of my boxer-briefs. Skip waggled his eyebrows, possibly seductively.

Lorraine was on her hands and knees on their black leather couch, her rump thrust up, her tits hanging down. “You can put it anywhere you like baby,” she told Chip.

“I want to fuck that pretty little pussy,” Chip said, rolling on a condom.

“Oh goody,” Lorraine said, wiggling her ass. “Lucky me!”

I heard the squelch as he entered her. It was really pretty hot to watch them fuck. Skip was already jerking off, reclining next to me on the brown faux-bearskin rug, so I quickly got over my lingering vestiges of homophobia and joined him. He reached over and started playing with one of my nipples, gently rolling it around between his thumb and forefinger. It felt pretty nice, so I returned the favor, pinching and tweaking his hard little nipple while I masturbated.

Things were getting pretty hot and heavy on the couch. Lorraine and Chip were fucking hard and fast. He had a thumb planted up inside her butthole. “I’m gonna fucking come!” he grunted through clenched teeth.

“Oh yeah baby,” Lorraine moaned back, “come in my fucking cunt baby, fill me up!”

With a series of grunts like he was power-lifting, Chip came. I actually saw his balls twitch as he shot off. That did it for Lorraine. Hunched over, scrubbing desperately at her clit, she came to a whining, whimpering orgasm as he continued fucking her.

It was really sexy. And then Skip turned his head so his face was close to mine, and I could feel his breath on my lips, and then he kissed me, and I totally surprised myself by kissing him back. We jerked off side by side like that, kissing open-mouthed with tongues and all, and playing with each other’s nipples while we masturbated and our partners watched. It felt weird to be kissing a guy, but I didn’t really mind at all, and my cock was super-excited.

“Oh Dude, please come in my mouth!” Skip begged, and I obliged him, scooting up onto my knees and jerking myself off onto his extended tongue. Lorraine clapped her hands, and Chip looked on complacently as Skip licked the last few drops of semen from the tip of my cock. I thought it would bother me, but it didn’t, not at all.

Then Lorraine and I cuddled up on the big soft fake bear skin while Skip fucked Chip in the ass. He didn’t last long, he was way too excited, but it was pretty intense to watch. Chip could take just as well as he could give, and he sure seemed to enjoy being penetrated like that. Lorraine masturbated while they fucked; I slipped a finger up inside her warm, wet, freshly-fucked pussy while she played with her clit. She and Skip came at the same time.

Later on, in the car, Lorraine asked me what I’d made of it all.

“Meh,” I said, “it was OK.”

“This was your idea,” she reminded me.

“I know, I know”.

2.

We were at Emma and Joe’s, a couple we’d met off the internet. They looked mismatched to me: she was a big girl, and he was a string bean. They seemed nice enough anyway.

“He’s very well-trained,” Emma told us. “Joe: strip!”

With a meek “Yes, ma’am,” Joe stripped naked. His nipples were pierced with thick steel rings, and his cock hung down fat and semi-hard between his legs.

“Joey is a world-champion pussy eater,” Emma informed us. “Want to try him out?”

“But of course,” Lorraine said, hiking up her skirt and kicking her panties aside. Joe crawled in between her spread thighs, and started nuzzling and licking. I wished I had a better view of what was going on down there.

“Oh baby,” Lorraine told me, “it feels so good! I wish you could feel what he’s doing to my clit!”

“He’ll suck your husband’s cock too, if you want him to,” Emma said.

“What do you think, babe?” Lorraine asked me. “Do you want him to?”

“No thanks,” I said.

Emma had her own breasts out, which were almost disturbingly big, and she was playing with the large, pink nipples. “I can get three fingers up his ass,” she bragged, “with just spit for lube.”

She then proceeded to prove it to us, sticking her fingers into her mouth, and then roughly cramming them right up Joe’s anus. “Look how hard he’s getting!” she gloated.

Joe kept on licking under Lorraine’s skirt while Emma finger-banged his asshole. His cock was really hard. He was really getting off on this.

“Oh shit, I’m going to come!” Lorraine was chewing hard on her bottom lip. “He’s going to make me fucking come!”

She did too, and I felt that little twinge of jealousy again as she wiggled and whinnied and shook, squeezing Joe’s head between her thighs. He stayed with her the whole way through.

“He’s such a nasty little slut,” Emma told me as Lorraine lolled and stretched in post-orgasmic ecstasy. “You can spank his ass if you want.” She withdrew her fingers from Joe’s asshole and he grunted softly.

I did want to spank his ass. His head was still hidden under my wife’s skirt. From the sound of things, he was going to be giving her a second orgasm pretty soon. I slapped him hard across the butt. It made a sharp smack and left a nice red handprint on his pale butt cheek. I hit him again and again, as hard as I could, until my shoulder ached and my hand was swollen and sore. Emma looked on approvingly. She had somehow managed to strip down to her panties without me even noticing. She was wearing a tiny purple thong that looked faintly ridiculous on her bulky body.

Lorraine came again, louder and more abruptly than the first time. She pushed Joe away. His face was pink with the effort, and totally covered in her wetness.

“Why don’t you try this on for size?” Emma asked Lorraine. She was dangling a convoluted black harness in front of us, complete with a bright red translucent dildo.

It took a couple minutes for Lorraine to get the harness all sorted out. Emma passed the time by playing with Joe’s cock and balls. She traced her fingers all over his scrotum, up and down the shaft of his cock, round about the bulbous rim of the crown. Whenever he appeared to be getting the tiniest bit over-excited, she’d give his nipple rings a sharp tug. I watched, utterly fascinated, and not the least bit turned-on. My dick wasn’t even hard.

Finally, Lorraine had the strap-on adjusted correctly. Emma grinned wickedly, and poured what seemed like half a bottle of lube down Joe’s butt-crack. “Have at,” she said.

Lorraine had at, with a gusto and sense of urgency that lurked halfway between scary and deeply erotic. With her hands gripping his skinny hips, she fucked poor Joe’s ass hard, fast, and deep. Her lips were twisted into a grimace and her face was all red with the effort. Her tits bounced and jiggled, and Joe grunted raspily with each thrust. Emma held his erection balanced on her outstretched hand, so that as he got fucked, his cock rubbed lightly against her palm.

With a noise like a deflating balloon, Joe suddenly came, squirting pearlescent semen in a magnificent arc all over the hardwood floor. Slowly and reluctantly, with a wicked smirk plastered all over her face, Lorraine withdrew her cherry-red phallus.

“You could take a piss on him,” Emma told me, “if you want to.”

I fished out my penis and took aim, but nothing would come out. Apparently my bladder was feeling shy. So we all got dressed and thanked each other for a good time, and then we left. I felt like I had just attended a Tupperware party.

“So what’d you think of that?”

“Interesting,” I said.

“Would you like to try that at home sometime? Just you and me?”

“Which part? The golden shower?”

“No, silly. The strap-on sex.”

“Oh. Yeah, sure.”

3.

Gabby and Susan were a good ten years older than us, cowgirl lesbians of the dirty dungarees and rusty pickup truck variety. We were over at their house, we had smoked a lot of pot together, and that was when Gabby proposed that we all get in the hot tub, and we had all gotten naked, but somehow we hadn’t made it any closer to the Jacuzzi.

Neither one of them shaved at all, and they both had bodies more reminiscent of construction workers than ballerinas, so I was moderately surprised to discover that didn’t make it one iota less sexy as they ganged up on Lorraine and started molesting my wife right in front of me. My cock swelled and stood up. Susan leered over at me.

The women were splayed out all over the flagstone floor of the sun-porch. I lounged on the wicker couch, stroked myself, and watched.

They had Lorraine sandwiched in between their bodies, a mouth on each one of her breasts, suckling her nipples. Each woman had one hand between Lorraine’s legs, playing with her pussy.

She cooed, giggled, squirmed. Her pale, slender body contrasted nicely with Gabby and Susan, who were thick and sunburned, with utilitarian breasts and generous patches of hair between their legs and under their armpits.

The two older women slid down Lorraine’s body like a pair of serpents. Gabby landed square in Lorraine’s wide-open, pink and drooling pussy; Susan planted herself between Lorraine’s ass cheeks. Both women started licking. I stretched out across the couch and watched and masturbated.

Lorraine was biting down hard on her lower lip. Her hair was mussed up, her chest was blotchy and red, and she was playing with her own nipples as the women ate her out fore and aft. I knew she was really close to orgasm. Our eyes locked for a moment, and I knew. We would both come at the exact same moment.

Gabby and Susan must have known too. As if upon a prearranged signal, they suddenly broke off, pulling away from Lorraine and leaving her writhing like a tall tree in a windstorm.

Her pussy was drooling wet and wide open. I could see her fat pink clit from where I lay on the couch. She moaned softly, a plaintive mewing sound like a baby owl.

Gabby pulled on an elbow-length yellow rubber glove, the kind a plumber might don to explore the inner reaches of a clogged-up toilet. Susan slathered the glove and Lorraine’s pussy with what look like an entire container of lube.

“Sister,” Susan said, “you’d better get ready, because my girlfriend is going to fuck you up.”

Lorraine whimpered in response. Her legs were spread wide, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Gabby snickered.

Slowly and methodically, like a freight train starting up, one of those hundred boxcar jobs that thunder across the Midwest, Gabby began fucking Lorraine with her glove-covered fingers. First just one finger probed up inside, then two, then three. Susan dribbled on more lube; Lorraine’s moans became a constant keening whine; Gabby worked a fourth finger up inside my wife’s juicy, distended cunt.

“Come on baby, come on!” Gabby’s back was dripping rivulets of sweat. She was fucking Lorraine like a powerful hydraulic piston: slow, rhythmic, and utterly unstoppable.

“Take it, bitch!” Susan had Lorraine’s wrists pinned down. The muscles in her thick forearms bulged, and the veins stood out.

I swear I heard the slurp as the widest part of Gabby’s fist slid up inside Lorraine’s cunt, and her hand disappeared up to the wrist in my wife’s pussy.

Lorraine arched her back, and every muscle in her body tensed. “Holy shit!” she cried aloud, “Holy fucking shit!” Gabby leaned in and flicked Lorraine’s clit with the tip of her tongue. That was all it took. Lorraine came, shaking and wailing, sobbing like a baby.

When it was all over, the three women lay tangled together, covered in sweat and panting with exhaustion.

My dick was painfully hard, red and swollen, drooling with pent-up lust.

Gabby glanced over my way. “Oh you poor thing,” she said. “You really need to get off, don’t you? Susan would give you a blowjob if she wasn’t such a big fat prude.”

Susan made a face. “He could fuck Petunia. She’s rutting anyway.”

As if she’d been waiting to hear her name, Petunia came trotting into the room. Petunia was Gabby and Susan’s pet warthog; 300 pounds of hairy, bristly porcine flesh. She had wicked sharp tusks that she liked to sharpen in the front yard, digging unsightly gashes through the lawn, and she wore a little pink collar with bells dangling from the front. She seemed to size me up, looking me up and down with her little bloodshot red eyes. Sure enough, her requisite bits, under the stubby little tail, were swollen and pink.

“Go ahead,” Susan said, “Mount up. Come on, you know she wants it.”

At that moment, I just wanted to come. More than anything in the world, I wanted my cock to be someplace hot and wet and slippery, and to empty my poor aching balls right into that someplace. Petunia flicked her tail and tossed her head, making the bells on her collar tinkle. Her tusks gleamed white as bone. I looked to Lorraine for guidance, and got an unreadable expression in return.

Fuck it. With six eyes riveted to me, I nuzzled up behind Petunia, stroking her coarse, hairy flanks. I nudged my erection against her puffy warthog labia. She was wet. I nudged forward, slipping inside.

It was a tight fit, but Petunia didn’t seem to mind. She grunted agreeably as I started fucking her. I reached around her belly, feeling her girth and her warmth, and humped away, oblivious to my audience.

“Stick a finger up her ass!” Susan advised, and Gabby hooted. I ignored them. It felt too good, and I wasn’t about to stop. Petunia flattened her ears against her head as I squelched in and out of her. She took it stolidly, like a hairy, four-legged Fleshlight.

It didn’t take me very long. With an orgasmic rush of pleasure that curled my toes, I emptied my balls into her patient warthog vagina. It felt absolutely amazing. I filled her to overflowing, and kept on humping. When I was all done, and my soft, slippery cock slid out of her passage with a pop, Petunia tossed her head again, snorted, and amiably ambled away. I hoped it had been good for her too.

On the drive home, I asked Lorraine how she felt.

“A little sore,” she said. “How about you?”

“I feel like a pig fucker.”

“That was wild,” she said, and squeezed my hand.

4.

I ran into Malinda again while I was out on a run, early in the morning before the heat of the day came rolling in like the high tide. Or, to be more accurate, she ran into me. She caught up with me struggling up the long, slow grade of Heartbreak Hill, and she fell into step with me as we crossed over the apex and began the sweet relief of the descent.

“Is it true that you’re in an open marriage?” she asked.

I was completely out of breath. It was all I could do to gulp “Yeah”.

“So she lets you sleep with other women?”

“Yeah.”

“And you don’t mind if she sleeps with other men?”

“Yeah.” My eloquence-o-meter had dropped off the bottom of the chart.

“Weird,” Malinda said, jogging matter-of-factly along beside me, “Weird. But cool.”

She didn’t look like much of a runner. She was plump and soft and curvy. But she was also kicking my ass, and not even breathing hard. I liked the way she looked as she floated along effortlessly beside me, in short-short pink shorts and a black jog-bra. Her breasts bounced along like cartoons, and one little rivulet of sweat ran down between her collar bones and disappeared into her cleavage. I puffed and huffed and clomped along, trying to keep up without looking like it was killing me. I’m not sure how successful I was.

I’d thought I was following her, but Malinda was following me. All the way home. When we breezed in the door, sweaty and winded and already grateful for the air conditioning, Lorraine was sitting in front of the computer, cup of coffee close at hand, playing Hack and Slash. She waved a hand distractedly in our direction, “Have fun!”

We went into the bathroom and closed the door behind us. Malinda sat down on the toilet and watched me undress. I already had a jutting hard-on. I felt oddly self-conscious under her half-amused gaze. I kept picturing myself fucking the warthog in front of two-and-a-half lesbians. What on earth had I been thinking? Why hadn’t I just let Skip suck my dick at the beginning of this debacle; a mouth is just a mouth, and he was probably really good at it. I had a bad feeling that I’d been behaving like a douche from the very beginning. Malinda caught me blushing, and smiled.

I turned on the shower. My dick was standing straight up, bobbing eagerly at a 45 degree angle. Malinda stood up and peeled off her running clothes. Now it was her turn to blush.

“You’re sure your wife doesn’t mind?”

“I’m sure.”

Naked, she looked even younger than she did dressed. Her skin was soft and flushed pink with exercise and excitement. Her boobs seemed impossibly big. There was a fluffy tuft of blondish pubic hair nestled between her legs, which were thick and curvaceous. She stepped hesitantly into the shower with me.

“I don’t have a lot of experience,” she said.

“It’s OK,” I told her.

We kissed for a while, rubbing our soapy wet bodies up against each other. It had been a long, long time since I had kissed like that. It felt fantastic. So did the way my cock kept rubbing up against her belly.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of bliss, Malinda dropped down onto her knees in front of me, and eagerly started sucking my dick.

Malinda may not have had a lot of experience—she couldn’t seem to get a good rhythm going, and kept switching around between techniques in a way that threatened my sanity—but she had enthusiasm by the boatload. She licked and kissed her way up and down my cock and balls, even straying down my perineum and perilously close to my asshole before chickening out. She tried—and failed—to swallow me whole. She rubbed her big soft tits up and down my erection. One hand kept straying down between her own thighs to stroke her own kitty. She bobbed her head up and down on my cock, her teeth grazing against my glans, then looked up at me, like a puppy-dog searching for approval.

“I’ve gotta come,” I told her. My whole being ached with the need.

“Masturbate for me,” she said. Her own hand was busy down between her legs.

I wrapped my own familiar hand around my dick, pointing my cock at her like a loaded gun. “Can I come on your tits?”

“Go for it,” she said, her finger darting up and down her furry pussy like a sewing machine needle. She arched her back, presenting her sizeable rack to me.

God I came hard! My calf cramped up just as I came, and my orgasm was a shrill battle cry of equal parts ecstasy and agonizing pain. Gob after gob of pearly white semen splattered all over Malinda’s proffered breasts.

She scooped some of my ejaculate tentatively up with one finger and brought it up to her lips. “It’s not bad,” she pronounced after she had licked her finger clean. “I was afraid it would be gross, but it’s really not too bad.”

“It takes a little getting used to,” Lorraine said. She was standing in the open bathroom doorway. “I happen to like it quite a lot, but I guess it’s an acquired taste.”

A little while later, when Malinda had gotten dried off and dress and jogged off in the direction of her house, Lorraine wrapped her arms around my naked body, batting at my soft penis like a cat with a toy.

“That was hot,” she told me. “It was really hot watching that.”

“Really?”

“Oh yeah. Better than watching you make out with make out with Skip. Better than watching you spank that Joey kid. Even better than watching you fuck a wild pig. God, that was raunchy! So… do you think Malinda does girls?”

I could feel an insistent nagging in my dick that told me it wouldn’t be soft too much longer. “You’ll just have to ask her,” I said.

“Mmm,” Lorraine said, squeezing my now not-especially flaccid cock and pressing herself up against my backside, “You know what I’d like even better than just fucking her?”

“What?” I asked. My dick was definitely erect now. I hadn’t had that kind of turn-around time since I was in my twenties.

“Making a Malinda sandwich: me fucking her while you fuck her at the same time. That would be hot!”

Yes it would.

“I want to feel you inside me,” Lorraine said. “Let’s go back to bed. Right now.”

And we did.

END

6 Comments »

  1. snowywilderness said

    Whoah, wow, awesome as usual, Elsie, and I can’t help wondering–since in my mind you both occupy and love the same part of Brooklyn (Bobo Brownstone)–if it’s at all inspired by the relatively new tour de force of local sex blogging that is http://ithoughtidshare.tumblr.com/? I think she’s definitely a kindred spirit in any case!

    Sent from my iPad

  2. advizor54 said

    A warthog? Really? My brain says no, but the hard cock in my jeans says yes, yes, yes, and, as a runner, I have to vote for the last chapter as my favorite. Nothing beats post workout sex.

    You have thrilled and amazed yet again. Don’t wait so long until next time.

    xoxo

    • elsiewrites said

      Thank you, that was precisely the intention. As far as frequency goes, what can I say? I do my best, but sometimes life gets in the way, and sometimes the writing just isn’t happening. I try to only post finished work here, and I’d rather leave you all hanging than put up sub-standard stories.

  3. John Cowan said

    I don’t know about warthogs, but pigs have helix-shaped vaginas, which would be hard for a Homo sapiens penis to do much with.

    The ending reminds me of a remark by Lytton Strachey. When a World War I draft board asked him what he would do if a German soldier was about to rape his sister, he replied demurely, “I should try to get between them.”

    • elsiewrites said

      You are absolutely correct regarding pig vaginas. I do sometimes take liberties with reality in my fiction.

  4. Ella said

    I love the superhero sagas! Very nice.

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