Chapter 1 – Moving-in day



The move to Philadelphia had gone well. All the furniture was in, and in place. The new house was going to be a wonderful place to bring up the family – a large eight-roomed colonial with roughly two acres of land which, while not secluded, offered a lot of privacy. It had an oversized two-car garage attached, with a sundeck on top, which was accessed through a doorway off the master bedroom, which had its own bathroom. On the opposite side of the bedroom was a large walk-in closet that served as the main closet for Joan and me.



The boys were already around next-door, being looked after by one of our friendly new neighbours, who had two kids of a similar age. There had been a stream of callers all day – some just our new neighbours, calling to get acquainted, and one or two tradesmen, who had spotted the removal van, and were getting their feet in the door, ahead of the opposition.



Joan was dealing with one of them, now – a tall young dark guy, whose laundry truck was parked just a few yards away from the high-sided removal van.



The three moving guys were straightening out the back of their vehicle before they set off back on the long journey to New York state, and I was coming round the side of the van, to say 'goodbye' and to give them each a few bucks, as extra thanks for their efforts. They had done a real good job, and built up a great rapport with Joan, my wife, and Ben and Luke, our young sons.



They were talking as they moved things around and I was just reaching the rear of the vehicle when I heard Ray, the oldest one, say – "She's got the peachiest ass I've seen all year. I tell you, when I get home tonight, Shirley's gonna get some unscheduled fucking, but it's gonna be Joan's tits and sexy butt I'll be thinking about!"



My pace slowed, and I stopped. I turned round. It would just be embarrassing if I walked in on them, now, with them discussing my wife, in that way. Anyway, I was having second thoughts about tipping them, now – talking about my wife like that!



"She's really something else," Ray was going on. "I guess she's Italian, or something like that – really hot-blooded. That long black hair and dark smouldering eyes – and what a body!"



"You know how I'd like to do her?" That was Mike – a tall, rangy 30-year-old with long blonde straggly hair. I stopped again, a strange excitement building up in me. My mouth was drying, and my heart was beating irregularly.



"Up against a wall," Mike went on. "My hands round these ass-cheeks, her legs clamped round my waist, and my dick sunk real deep inside her until she squealed for mercy!"



"Nah," responded Ray. "I'd want her bent over, so I could get my hands round those big luscious tits while I shafted her from behind. She'd be even better than that one in Wichita!"



"Wichita?" The question came from Louie, the youngest one, a thin wiry guy barely out of his teens. Ray laughed.



"Ah, that was before your time, Lou. A big redhead – about thirty-five or so. We was just leaving and she came into the van to thank us. Mike chanced his luck and asked for a kiss and she said OK. Well, she really gave him a big one and while she was kissing him, Charlie felt up her ass and she didn't object and – well, one thing led to another and she ended up naked, gettin' screwed by all four of us, on the big tarpaulin. Man, that was some job – and she gave us each twenty bucks before we went!"



"Wow!" exclaimed Louie. "D'ya reckon Joan would...?"



"Nah!" laughed Ray. "She ain't the type. She doesn't even know how sexy she is. She's an all-American apple-pie wife and mom – husband gives her a regulation fuck every Saturday night or Sunday morning and, unless some other guy gets to her, to remind her what it's all about, she'll just join the PTA and the country club – and just get old and forget!"



"What a tragedy," said Mike, despondently. "Look at her now, with that laundry guy. He can't keep his eyes off her cleavage – and she's got no idea! I can see his boner from here!"



"Naw, you can't!" laughed Ray.



"Well, no," confessed Mike, "but five'll get you ten he's got one!"



"Yeah," replied Ray. "Reckon you're right. Anyways, time we stopped dreamin' and got out of here. Any sign of the husband yet? I think we should be good for fifty each, just for not screwing his wife!"



I heard the sounds of stuff being moved around and I crept back along the side of the truck, to the front. I looked up the driveway. Joan was still talking to the laundry man. She was looking up at him, and laughing, her hand resting on his bare arm. He was smiling down at her, and I was certain his eyes were taking in the deep valley between her breasts, revealed by the front of her blouse falling forward as she leaned forward to touch his arm.



Then she squeezed his arm, turned and walked back to the house. He, and I, watched as her shapely firm butt swayed from side to side in the loose shorts she wore. Her legs were bare, slim and nicely tanned.



After more than ten years of marriage, having seen your wife through two pregnancies, and all the other ups and downs of domestic life, you do begin to lose the ability to look objectively at your sexual partner and, watching Joan, now, along with the laundry guy – and, probably, the moving guys, as well – I realised that, by any standards, she was one very sexy woman.



Joan is of Greek – not Italian – extraction, but, otherwise, Ray was pretty well right on the button. I had taken her cherry two years before we got married and we had about four years of incredible sex before her first pregnancy. Well, I didn't actually 'take her cherry' – she said she had lost it through cycling – but she insisted I was the first guy she let fuck her, and I had no reason to disbelieve her. But, until she got pregnant, she really made up for lost time and, in those four years, we did everything sexual that a man and a woman can do to each other – almost.



Every part of me explored every part of Joan – and vice versa - apart from one. After a couple of years, I began to wonder what it would be like to slide my rod between Joan's gorgeous ass cheeks into her tight anal orifice, but, despite her Aegean origins, she steadfastly refused, even at the absolute height of passion. This was a disappointment to me, but her tight cunt, surrounded with its forest of black hair, was always available to my fingers, mouth or cock, and she never failed to bring me to a mind-blowing climax, so I was more than content.



She was also an absolute artist with her luscious mouth and quickly picked up the art of giving me the most incredible blowjobs until I was nearly cross-eyed with ecstasy!



She had two pregnancies in quick succession and, inevitably, I suppose, we began to have other priorities. Her body quickly regained its shape – with the added bonus that her breasts became even larger, her nipples darkening and lengthening, but our sexual encounters became less frequent. I was working very hard and Joan had two young boys to cope with all day and – as Ray had correctly guessed – sex now took place only at weekends and, these days, I realised as I thought about it, not even every weekend …



I followed Joan towards the house. On the way, I passed the laundry man, and we nodded to each other. I noticed he looked slightly embarrassed and guessed he realised I had seen him watching my wife's ass.



Joan was in the kitchen. I slid an arm round her waist and kissed her cheek. I realised I was more than half-erect and dropped my hand to fondle her buttocks.



"Hi, honey," she breathed, turning her face to kiss me, briefly, on the mouth. "Did you tip the moving men yet?"



"Oh, no," I confessed, feeling in my pocket for the twenty-dollar bills.



"Come on and we'll say goodbye together, then," said Joan, taking my hand and leading me out again. I followed willingly. If we could see them off quickly, we'd have time for a visit upstairs before the boys came home...... My cock was hardening at the thought.



The guys were closing the back of the van.



"All done, then?" I called, as we approached.



"Yeah, that's it," answered Ray, turning and smiling – his smiling broadening when he saw Joan at my side.



"Well, thanks for all you've done," I said – trying to keep out of my mind the image of Ray bending a naked Joan forward at the waist so that he could squeeze her dangling tits while he rammed his dick into her soaking cunt, from the rear.



I handed over the bundle of notes, and shook his hand. His handshake was firm and dry.



"Good luck to both of you in your new home," he said, smiling.



"Thank you, Ray," said Joan, her eyes shining as she stepped forward. He held out a hand, but Joan put her hands on his shoulders and offered her face for a kiss. With a very brief glance at me, Ray put his arms round her and kissed her on the lips. She came close enough into him for her breasts to flatten themselves against his chest, and my heart tripped again.



I knew Joan didn't mean anything by it – like most of her race, she is very tactile – but I also knew Ray was enjoying the sensation of Joan's firm generous mounds against him – and I was getting a strange thrill from it, too.



I turned to Mike and Louie and shook them by the hand. Joan kissed Mike but, because he was so much taller than she, their bodies didn't touch, but Louie, who was last, pulled her right into him – and dropped his hands to cup Joan's butt as they kissed.



She was a little flushed as they climbed up into the van and we waved until it turned out of sight, at the corner of the street. Then Joan took my hand and we walked back to our new home, in companionable silence.



I didn't quite know how to bring up the subject, but eventually I said – "I bet they wish it was Wichita, all over again?"



Joan turned to look at me, a puzzled smile on her face.



"Wichita?" she said.



"That's exactly what Louie said," I grinned – but my grin was a bit lopsided. I felt nervous, like a guy on his first date, wondering how 'far' he might get.



"He was a bit cheeky, that Louie," remarked Joan, "grabbing my butt like that. Still, he's only young – what about Wichita?"



I wanted to ask her about Louie feeling her ass, but decided to save that till later.



"Oh," I said, as we entered the kitchen again, "I overheard them talking a little while ago, and Ray and Mike were telling Louie about a job they did in Wichita."



I took both of Joan's hands and backed her up against the table. I moved against her, to let her feel my erection pressing into her stomach. Her eyes widened a little in surprise, but she smiled and moved gently against me.



"What happened in Wichita?" she asked, her voice low.



"Well, there were four of them – Ray, Mike and two other guys – and, at the end, the woman came into the van to thank them. They asked her for a kiss and – well, it ended up with her naked and them taking turns with her."



Joan's face took on a delicate shade of pink, and she dropped her eyes.



"You mean – I had a narrow escape?" she said, softly. I pressed my cock against her and, releasing her hands, cupped her bottom to pull her against me. She put her arms round my neck and buried her face in my shoulder.



"Yes," I whispered. "It's just as well I was there, don't you think?"



"Why?" she asked. "Did they – force her?"



"No," I answered. "I don't think so. While Mike was kissing her, the others started touching her and, when she didn't object – well, they just carried on and stripped her, then they fucked her."



"What – all of them?" Joan whispered. Her lower body was moving against me, her breasts pressing against my chest. I moved a hand up to squeeze her left breast. She let out a little sigh.



"Yes – they took turns with her – one after another," I said, and rubbed a thumb over her nipple. I could feel it – its erectness – through her blouse and brassiere.



Joan was silent, but I could hear her breathing – quick, irregular. I thought about what to say next. My balls tightened.



"If I hadn't been there – today – would you have still kissed them?"



"I suppose so." Her reply was muffled, almost inaudible.



"And what if Louie had squeezed your butt – like he did?"



"Well... " Joan's voice trailed off. I waited. Eventually, she went on.



"I don't think they would have wanted to – with me," she said. "I'm just a – married woman – a mom, with two kids. The one in Wichita – she was probably... different."



My hand was unbuttoning her blouse. My cock was like an iron bar. I had to wet my lips before I could speak again.



"I heard them talking about you," I said. I could hear my own voice, shaking with excitement.



Joan's head was buried in my chest.



"What – what did they say?" Her voice was low, breathy, quivering – like mine. I wet my dry lips again.



"Ray wanted to fuck you from behind," I whispered, fiercely, my hand plucking her swollen tit from her bra, "so he could squeeze your tits, but Mike wanted you up against a wall, your legs round his waist, so he could feel your ass while his cock was deep inside you... "



Her grip on my shoulders tightened and she let out a muffled moan. I lifted her and carried her, unresisting, into the den. I laid her on the couch and pulled off her blouse and bra. Her naked breasts spilled out, her nipples hard and erect.



She lay, looking up at me, as I wrestled my jeans off. Her hands stroked her tits, sensuously.



"Did they say that?" she said, shyly, incredulously. I grunted, nodding my head, as I kicked my shoes to the floor.



"And you...? You were listening?"



"Yeah," I gritted, my jeans coming off in a rush. I dragged my shorts down, over my distended erection. "I was mad, at first, then – I thought about you, and them, and them – taking off your clothes and feeling your tits and your ass – and then laying you down on the tarpaulin and spreading your legs... "



Somewhere along the line, Joan had pulled off her shorts and panties and was naked on the couch, legs apart, her hand between her thighs, her middle finger stimulating her clitoris. Her head was thrown back, her tongue running round her lips.



"Come and fuck me, Kyle," she gasped, hoarsely. "Come on – pretend you've watched them feeling my bare tits and sliding their cocks up me, one by one. Come and... aaaaagh!"



I plunged my rod deep inside her wet gaping cunt and felt the tight slippery muscles grip and massage it as I began to ride her hard, my mouth fastened on to one distended nipple.



"This... was... how... Louie... wanted... to... fuck... you," I gasped with each stroke. I knew I was taking liberties with the truth, but I wanted her to think of someone else on top of her – a new cock – a young, tireless one which could fuck her into oblivion.



"Yes," she gasped. "And Donald, too!"



For a second or two, I thought – "Who the fuck is Donald?" – but then all coherent thought deserted me as the red mist rose and rockets and stars went off in my head and I made one last desperate plunge up my writhing, gasping wife before my cock finally twitched uncontrollably and the volcano burst forth.



I seemed to come for literally ages and almost passed out completely with the intensity of my orgasm. To my shame, I had no idea whether Joan came or not. When I returned to my senses, I was sprawled on top of her and my limp dick was hanging helplessly between her thighs.



Joan's arms were clasped round me, tightly – a fact I noted with intense relief. Never before had our lovemaking encompassed the notion of Joan letting another man have her and, now that I had returned to a post-orgasmic sanity, I was very unsure as to how she would take the idea that such a thing could excite me.



It never occurred to me that she could be worried about how I would react to her getting turned on by the same thing and I don't know what might have happened if the phone hadn't rung at that moment.



It was the call I had been expecting – from the office. I was surprised they had managed to cope this long without me – and very relieved they hadn't called twenty minutes earlier! By the time, I had finished the call, the boys had been brought back, hollering for something to eat, and Joan was back in the kitchen – back to being a normal wife and mom.



She went to bed early that night, and I guessed she was a little disturbed at the turn our lovemaking had taken that afternoon – as, indeed, was I. I sat, alone, thinking about the incredible excitement I had derived from the picture of the three moving men stripping my lovely wife in the back of their van, then taking turns at fucking her, each in his own special way. I was also incredibly turned on by the way Joan had joined me in my fantasy and, as I thought about it, my hand stroked the sensitive underside of my erect cock, through my trousers, then I had to release it, and I masturbated to orgasm, thinking of my wife gasping in ecstasy as another hard cock plunged between her willing thighs...



Chapter 2 – The Laundry Man



But, in the following days and weeks, I remained very confused about why I should feel like this, and more than a little guilty. For her part, Joan didn't seem to want to go into that territory again, and, even though I was tempted, during our - more frequent, now – bouts of lovemaking, I managed to restrain myself.



Then, about three months later, we were shopping in the local mall, with the boys. It was a Saturday afternoon, and we were taking a break for an ice-cream for the boys, and coffee for us. Joan was queuing at the counter, with our tray, and we were sitting at a table. I noticed a tall dark guy, at another table, watching Joan, with a peculiar intensity in his gaze.



As though she felt his stare, Joan turned and met his eye. She smiled, and mouthed 'Hi!' at him, then her eyes flickered over to me, and I saw a pink tinge of colour on her cheekbones. The guy, too, looked a little embarrassed as he smiled back, and I thought his face was a bit familiar, though I couldn't place him.



When Joan returned, she didn't mention the encounter, but I noticed her eyes drifting over, more than once, to where the guy sat, on his own. Something told me that there was more to this than met the eye, but I didn't say anything. Joan's manner seemed a little forced, then she relaxed and, when I looked again, the guy had gone. During the course of the afternoon, this strange episode remained at the back of my mind, and I kept worrying at it, and trying to remember where I had seen the guy, before.



After the boys had gone to bed, Joan and I were having a little late supper, on our own. We weren't saying a lot and I was thinking more and more about the incident in the afternoon. I decided to find out more.



"Who was the guy at the ice-cream parlour?" I asked, suddenly, as though he had just come to mind.



"Which guy?" came the automatic response. Like all women, Joan always answers a question with another question.



"He was sitting at a table while you were at the paydesk – you said 'Hi' to him."



"Oh – that was just Donald – the laundry man," said Joan. This time, there was no hint of embarrassment – but the guy's name hit me like a thunderbolt, and I recalled where, and when, I had seen him before. He had turned up on moving-in day – he was the one Joan had been talking to when I was listening to the removal men discussing her.



And – his name was the one Joan had cried out when she was on the point of orgasm, imagining herself being well and truly fucked by some one other than me!



I remembered how he had been gazing down her cleavage, then admiring the sway of her sexy bottom as she walked back to the house. I felt my cock begin to stiffen and I was glad we were sitting at the table. But I tried to remain 'cool'.



"Oh," I said. "I thought I recognised him. Wasn't he the guy who came the day we moved in?"



Joan's cheeks coloured, but they always did that when one of us mentioned that day. I'm sure, like me, she couldn't think of it without calling to mind our mind-blowing sex on the couch in the den.

