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Nothing else happened until a few months later, when
we went on our summer vacation. We stayed in a nice
motel and met three other couples staying there. During
the week, we went golfing and to the beach with them, and
I noticed the hot looks the guys were giving my wife and
her big tits, even in her conservative bathing suits. On
the last night together, the eight of us closed the bar
and went back to one of the rooms to continue the party.
There was a lot of kissie-feelie going on and I
thought something might soon develop - maybe even a wild
orgy and I'd finally get my ashes hauled by some new
pussy - even if none of the other wives was in my wife's
class for looks and body. But we never got beyond the
little kisses and the party began to crap out. Some
people wanted to crash and some others wanted to go eat
at the all-night diner. After we all split up, there was
me, my wife, and another guy in the room. This guy had
been ogling my wife all week and that night had been
trying to grab her tits every chance he got.
When my wife went into the bathroom, I told the guy
I was going back to our room for some sleep. When I
stepped outside, I heard him lock the door behind me. I
stepped to the windows, peeked through the blinds I had
left partially opened, and waited to see what would
happen.
My wife came out of the bathroom and asked the man
where I went. He told her I went for ice and that she
should wait there for my return. Then he stepped up to
her and kissed her hard on the lips. At the same time,
he swiftly unzipped her sexy sundress all the way down
her front. She started to pull away, and as she did, he
grabbed at her bra strap and ripped the cup off her left
tit. Then he shoved her down on the bed and began to
suck her naked tit. As she struggled under him, he
somehow managed to open up her dress and began to pull
her panties down.
At this point, she really began to put up a fight,
and I almost went to the door, but something inside of me
stopped me. I couldn't pull myself away from watching
the whole incredible, arousing, hot scene. My wife --
fucking around with a stranger! And I had a front-row
seat!
The guy rolled my wife over onto her stomach, pulled
her dress down off her other shoulder and unhooked her
bra. After he slid her panties off her long legs, he
dropped his pants and shorts and climbed on the bed, too.
My wife was still trying to fend him off, but it looked
like she had lost a lot of her fight. After struggling
with my wife a little more and holding her hands to the
bed, above her head, the guy finally got between her legs
and got his good-sized cock in her and rammed it into her
to the hilt.
I suddenly realized that I had one of the hardest
and biggest erections in my life! I was really enjoying
watching this!
The guy continued to fuck my wife for at least
another ten minutes, until he came inside her with a big
grunt. He finally climbed off her and walked into the
bathroom and cleaned his cock. My wife laid there, on
the bed, gasping and panting, her legs spread wide apart,
her hands still above her head.
When the guy walked back into the bedroom, he made
another drink and walked over to the bed. As he stood
there, looking down at my wife, she raised herself up on
her elbow, took hold of his soft prick in her hand, and
gently guided it into her mouth!
She began to suck him off, first slowly, and then
more and more wildly. She sucked him for about five
minutes, until he pulled away with another huge erection.
He then climbed back on the bed, and I watched as my wife
guided his hard cock up her already-filled cunt.
While they were screwing, I heard the couple who's
room it was coming up the steps. I ducked around the
corner to get out of sight and was surprised to see that
the drapes on the sliding door on the beach side were
wide open. I stepped into the shadows to watch from my
new front-row seat.
The first guy and my wife didn't stop screwing when
the couple opened the door. The wife said she didn't
like what was going on in their room and her husband told
her to go back down to the diner ("In case it gets ugly,"
he said) and he would get rid of the screwing couple.
The wife was barely out the door, when the second
guy stripped off his clothes and got on the bed. He
immediately began sucking my wife's big tits, and then
soon slid up to where he could press his erect cock
against my wife's lips. The slut didn't hesitate an
instant. She sucked him deep into her mouth! I watched
her take both of these studs on at once!
The first guy finally had his second orgasm in her
pussy and rolled off her. The second husband immediately
slid into position and began pounding away in my wife's
noisy-wet cunt. He only took a few minutes to cum, and
after he was finished, the two men laid there, totally
exhausted.
To my shock and amazement, my wife got up and
paraded around the room totally naked. After she tossed
down a shot of booze like a pro, she asked if either of
the guys was ready to go again. They both moaned and
said they were spent.
As she bent to pick up her clothes, I raced back to
our room, undressed, and slid under the covers pretending
to be asleep. She came in soon after me, quickly
showered and got in bed with me, falling asleep almost
immediately.
The following morning she asked me where the hell I
went the night before. I said I had told the other guy
I was going back to our room and that she could follow or
stay and party if she wanted to. I bugged her about what
happened, but she never said a word about it! She said
they just sat around talking and drinking.
After seeing the way she acted like a true, cheap,
low-bred, slut-tramp whore in that motel room, I again
approached her about swinging. Much to my surprise, she
still refused. I couldn't figure what her problem was.
I had watched her be a real whore for two strangers, and
knew she had fucked and sucked another guy's balls dry,
so why wouldn't she agree to a little friendly swapping?
We argued about it a little more, but I soon let it drop.
Instead, I realized how much fun I was having
manipulating her into different situations and watching
her whore for other men. I began to keep a notebook with
dates and times, places and names (where I knew them),
and how I had set up the situation. Over the past five
years, I have set up thirty-two different arrangements
that have resulted in at least ninety-eight different men
enjoying my wife's raunchy sexual talents. Each one of
the arrangements was a different set of circumstances,
and I'm proud of my ability at inventing them.
There have been some great scenes!
One night, I gave a guy I met in a bar my address
and set it up that he and three friends would burgle my
house so I could make an insurance claim on an old TV.
He asked if anyone would be home, and I said, "You should
be so lucky -- my wife is the easiest piece of ass in the
world!" And she was. Two of the burglars held her down
for her first fuck, but after that, she fucked and sucked
all four of them dry. And I watched the whole thing from
our bedroom window!
She fucked and sucked guys everywhere! In motel
rooms, on a pool table in the back of a bar, in bar and
mall parking lots, a weekend in a mountain cabin with
five guys, and even in a Frat house full of drunk, horny
young studs after the Homecoming Game!
The best and the worst time was when I took her to
the Big Stampede and Rodeo in Calgary, Canada. On the
last day, as we were strolling around the horse barn
area, I told a group of dirty, sweaty cowpokes that the
woman walking along behind me in the short yellow dress
was an expensive, cockteasing hooker with a real "BITCH"
attitude and if they wanted some fun, they should try her
out in the barn. They were drunk and horny and stupid
enough to try anything and I quickly climbed up into the
loft as they waited for the hooker in the short yellow
dress.
They started talking to my wife as she walked by and
when she shook her head at their rude and lewd
propositions and tried to leave, the cowboys grabbed her
and dragged her into the back of the barn. She yelled
and fought a little, but they threw her on a bunch of
dirty blankets and ripped her clothes off her and I
watched - for the next hour - while what seemed like
every cowboy in Canada took his turn in her mouth, cunt
and ass. When they finally finished with her, they left
her bare-assed naked, covered with cum, sweat, dirt, beer
and booze. I watched as she stood on wobbly legs and
stumbled to the open door. When another group of cowboys
from across the way saw her standing there naked, they
ran over and carried her off into another barn.
By the time I got down from the loft, she was no
where to be seen. I searched till I finally left the
area and returned later, looking for her. I checked and
rechecked the motel room and looked in all the bars, too.
I even reported her missing to the security people, but
they weren't worried, telling me she just got lost in the
crowd. Of course, I knew, but couldn't tell them, that
the last time I saw her she was naked as a baby in the
barn area with all those horny cowboys!
Finally, at about four in the morning, I heard the
motel room door open. I pretended to be asleep as she
and some man stepped inside. I heard her thank him for
the blanket and the ride home as she handed him the
cloth. He grabbed her big tits and said he wanted to
fuck her again. My wife shushed him to be quiet and she
laid down on the floor. The guy dropped his pants and
fucked her hard, right there, in the room with her
husband! He left, and she crawled into the other bed and
immediately fell asleep. She was so exhausted, she
didn't even stir when I removed the sheet and looked at
her body covered with dirt, stale booze, cum, and love
marks.
Believe it or not, she still never mentioned any of
these events to me. The next day, she told me she had
lost her purse and spent all that time she was gone
looking for it and waiting for it to show up at the "lost
and found" booth. What bullshit! I guess I never will
know how many cowboys screwed her that day!
Anyway, I love what I've worked out. I wish I could
watch her fuck and suck ten different guys every night of
the year!
In five years, the only scene I arranged that she
balked at was when I tried to set up a party at a nearby
Army base. I wanted to see just how many men she could
screw at one time, without stopping. Some GI I met in a
bar was going to get us into one of the barracks and just
let the guys line up until she couldn't take any more, or
there were no guys left. I told the GI that I was
bringing a real, live nymphomaniac, and that there was no
limit to the number of cocks she could handle. He said
that he could easily guarantee fifty guys, probably more.
I guess she got wind of the fact that the "party" was
going to be an all-night gang-bang, and I could never set
it up with her.
I still enjoy setting up situations for guys to
screw my wife, but I don't think she wants any more out-
of-control mass sex encounters - like the rodeo - so I
try to limit the number of men to four or five, or less.
With all this sex she has participated in, she has never
once mentioned any of it to me. But, I think she
probably knows that I'm responsible for all or most of it
(or, at least, that I know and cooperate). I don't know
if she knows I love watching it, but from watching her in
action, I know she's a cheap slut who damn well loves
every second of it!
*** signed "Master Match Maker"
********

What an outrageous tale!
I just sat there on the bed, and let my breathing calm down.
I wasn't sure exactly which parts had turned me on. Maybe it was
the forbidden sex, or being taken, or even the gang-bangs (all
are deep, forbidden, *NASTY* thoughts for a "nice" woman like me
to think). It certainly wasn't the author. I thought he was a
creep and an asshole, who couldn't even personalize "his wife"
with a name in his long letter. I couldn't figure why the wife
wouldn't mention anything to her husband, except that maybe he
was such a creep and she didn't care if he knew or not, or she
didn't want to give him the satisfaction that she knew they were
his games.
Then I began thinking about finding the letter hidden away
in Phil's drawer. Were the letter and the photos a strong and
recurring fantasy for Phil? Did he want to see me take on groups
of strangers? Bizarre, and not like Phil at all, but what else
was I to think?
Then I wondered... Had Phil ever tried to set up an
"arrangement" and I didn't realize it at the time?
I sat there thinking about that, and one time I could
remember was about 18 months ago when Phil was hosting a poker
night. All his poker buddies were at the house when he called
from the office and said he would be very late, but that they
should stay, play cards, and eat the food -- which they did. I
retired to the bedroom and read a novel for the night. Phil
showed up about an hour after he called and played cards with his
friends. I couldn't remember if he tried to pump me for
information about what had happened before he got home, but not
having read the letter, I would have never made the connection.
Then another time came to mind. Not long after we were
married, Phil and I went on a fishing trip and I was the only
woman. We drove down in the afternoon and stayed in a motel
overnight, going out on the boat before dawn, the next day. Phil
and I had dinner and, later, drinks that night with four other
fishermen in our motel room.
And there were other times that now, in light of the letter
I just read, seemed suspicious. A big company picnic where Phil
just disappeared for an hour or so, a night at a bar after a
softball game, when Phil went out to the car to sleep -- even on
our honeymoon! How long had Phil had the letter?
I really began to wonder.
I began to read the letter, again. And this time, I found
myself lowering the zipper on my jeans and letting my hand move
under my panties, until my fingers found my already-hard and wet
clit. I gently stroked and squeezed the little nub as I read the
letter over and over, until, in a great rush, I had a long and
wonderful orgasm.

ENTER
TEEN STEAM

After I composed myself, I carefully replaced the pages and
photos just as I had found them in Phil's drawer and decided I
would act like I had never found the letter and photos. If my
husband wanted to have a little secret, he certainly deserved
some privacy about it.
And then I realized something. I had used the letter to
turn me on and help me reach an orgasm, just as I'm sure Phil had
used it in the past. Now, we had both masturbated reading the
same thing. That letter was a turn-on for both of us!
......
Life resumed its regular rhythms, and nothing out of the
ordinary occurred. Occasionally, I'd check Phil's drawer and I
could tell the pictures and the letters had been handled, but I
never saw Phil anywhere near them.

PART TWO

CONTINUED...

The following winter I received notice of my 15th high
school reunion to be held that spring.
My family had moved halfway across the country one week
after my graduation and I hadn't seen any of my high school
friends in those fifteen years. I hadn't been the most popular
girl in high school (I had been a little too "pudgy" -- too
"husky" -- too "big-boned" for that), but I had had a lot of
friends and been active in several groups and clubs, and was
anxious to see some old friends.
Because of finances, I had missed my tenth reunion and
regretted it. Fortunately, money wasn't a problem this time, and
Phil readily agreed to go with me. My mom and dad agreed to
watch Bobby for the long weekend.
I quickly filled out the "what-have-you-been-up-to?"
questionnaire and paid for our tickets. I knew it wouldn't be as
big a reunion as the tenth or twentieth, but I was looking
forward to going, anyway. My home town was fairly small and I
hoped most of the people I remembered would still be there.
I began to check myself out in the mirror often. I knew I
was in pretty good shape -- much better shape than I had been in
during high school -- but I up'ed my cycling and aerobics
routines to firm up and slim down as much as I could. Phil
noticed and approved.
A couple of weeks before the reunion, Phil and I were
sitting up, reading in bed. Out of the blue, Phil asked me if I
was ready to see some of the guys I had dated in high school.
I said, "sure."
"Did you date a lot in high school, Janice?" he asked.
"No, not a lot. You have to remember, in high school I was
still in my chubby phase. I was Marge Pearson's chubby daughter.
It wasn't until college when I got away from my mother's cooking
and discovered swimming that I slimmed down and firmed up."
"Ah... So it was in college you dated a lot."
"I sure did, honey. I had a lot of lonely Saturday nights
to make up for. *AND* I was a cheerleader -- I had a
responsibility to my public." I was trying to keep the
conversation light and fun. In fact, I had been a little on the
wild side in college. I had dated a lot of the jocks, sometimes
two or three at a time, nothing kinky, but often one on each
night of the weekend. I settled down in grad school and met Phil
there, but college had been fun -- no doubt about that.
"So, it's true, what we non-athletes think about
cheerleaders and football players?"
Obviously, my high school reunion was forgotten, and Phil
wanted to hear about my cheerleading days. I closed my book,
chuckling, "Well, let's just say I dated a football player or
two. I knew it was part of my job description. What exactly did
you non-athletes think about us? I'm sure it was perverted!"
"Well, those of us in the accounting club often discussed
the rumors of wild sex orgies in the locker rooms after games.
And how the cheerleaders would do *ANYTHING* to boost team
morale."
"You accountants-to-be were one hundred percent right.
That's exactly what went on."
Phil froze, and then his head spun to look at me. "Really?
Are you serious, Janice?" he asked anxiously.
My smile broke into a laugh, "No! Of course I'm not being
serious, honey. What do you think I am -- or was? If anything
like that went on, I didn't hear about it. Just the thought of
the locker room -- those dirty, sweaty bodies after a game --
UGH! Can you imagine the smell?"
I pinched my nose closed and shook my head.
"I'm very sorry to shatter your male fantasies about us
slutty cheerleaders -- we were just your normal, everyday
beauties worried about dates and homework and pimples, just like
everyone else."
Phil was laughing with me, "well, you slutty cheerleaders
and your wild orgies were a lot more fun to talk about at our
accounting club meetings than balance sheets and number-2
pencils!"
A few minutes later, Phil quietly asked, "Are there any old
flames in particular you're looking forward to seeing at the
reunion, Janice?"
I took Phil's hand and held it in mine, "Honey, I'm looking
forward to seeing everybody. I didn't date the hunks I had
crushes on. I'm not trying to cop-out on you, but there isn't
anyone I dated, in high school *OR* college, that I still have
any `special' feelings for. I saved all my special feelings for
you." I gently moved his hand under the deep V-neck of my
nightie and placed it on my bare breast.
Phil was always good at getting my hints, and it was quite a
while before we got to sleep that night.
......
On Saturday, several days after our "locker room orgy"
conversation, I was in Bobby's room when the phone rang. Phil
was in the bathroom, so I answered it. It was one of his golf
buddies. When Phil came out to get the phone, I went into our
bathroom to collect the towels for the laundry.
I picked up the towel on the floor next to the throne and
lying there was a full-page photo and the two-page letter. The
photo captured a magic moment in a pretty blonde girl's life when
she had three cocks (two white and a gigantic black cock) buried
up her pussy, in her ass, and down her throat. I was surprised,
to say the least. Had the phonecall caught Phil masturbating?
I quickly replaced the towel and walked out of the bathroom.
I acted like I hadn't seen a thing. But I had, and it made me
think about that damned letter and Phil's secret fantasies again.
......
June finally arrived and Phil and I flew out to Seattle. It
was a long ride in the rental car from the airport to my home
town, and I could feel my excitement rise with each mile.
Even though it was late in the evening and we were tired
from the flight and the long ride, Phil indulged me and drove
around the town for me.
I was thrilled to see that the town had changed so little in
the fifteen years since I had lived there. I pointed out all the
"landmarks" to Phil, as we drove from my old house, past the
school and old hang-outs. He was such a Dear, he acted
interested and refused to yawn as I filled him in on the minutiae
of my pre- and pubescent life. Finally, on the other side of
town, where the drive-in movie used to be, we checked into our
hotel room and got some sleep. It was going to be a busy
weekend.
The reunion committee had scheduled a luncheon at the hotel
on Saturday, the big dance and party at the high school on
Saturday night, and a gourmet (catered, of course) breakfast on
Sunday morning in the high school cafeteria; and we were
attending all of them.
Everything was wonderful. It was so great seeing so many
old friends and we talked like there hadn't been fifteen years
since our last conversation. I'll admit I really enjoyed the
stares and looks my "new" body caused, and I was a whole lot more
popular at the dance than I had ever been at a dance while in
high school. And through it all, Phil was a perfect angel -- as
gracious and as friendly as can be.
But the reason I'm writing all this down is -- the most
outrageous event took place on that Sunday.
......
About halfway through the breakfast, I excused myself to
literally and figuratively "go to the little girls' room."
Feeling nostalgic, I wandered out the door from the rest
room to the girls' locker room instead of the door back out to
the hall. With classes over for the school year, the lockers
were empty and the room had been scrubbed clean. I tried to find
my old locker from my Senior year, but they all looked alike to
me now.
I soon discovered I wasn't the only one waxing nostalgic.
Through the vents high up in the wall, I could hear voices from
the boys' locker room. I walked closer to the wall to listen and
smelled cigar smoke through the vent. It was two or three guys
and they were talking about their football days. How typical.
I turned to leave, and was surprised by a rack full of brand
new cheerleader uniforms! They were beautiful! Apparently, the
school had just sprung for new uniforms for the squad, and since
school was closed for the Summer, they were just hanging there
until tryouts in August.
I had thoroughly enjoyed my years as a cheerleader in
college. It had been extremely difficult to make the squad
because I hadn't already been one in high school, like all the
other girls. But in high school, I was plump and too roly-poly
to even think about trying out for cheerleader -- and I always
regretted that fact.
On an impulse, I grabbed an outfit that looked close to my
size and sat on a bench, in front of a locker. Here was my
chance to finally wear my high school colors! The uniform was
sparkling white with the school's name emblazoned across the
front in blue and gold.
What the hell! Who would ever know? I'd put it right back
on the rack afterwards.
I stood up and unzipped my dress down the back. Next came
my slip. I quickly unwrapped the uniform, pulled the top over my
head and shimmied the too-tight skirt up my legs and over my
hips.
I walked over to the big mirror to take a look at myself and
laughed at the sight. The uniform was too small and too short.
The skirt was so short I could see my stocking tops, so I rolled
my stockings off and stepped back into my high heels. Now, when
I looked in the mirror, I saw that the tight top stretched across
my big boobs, the short skirt with only tiny panties on under it,
and the black high heels perverted the uniform into something
erotic, rather than innocent. But wasn't that the trademark of
the best cheerleader outfits, like the Dallas Cowboys' squad?
......
At that precise moment I heard two things that caused me to
change my life drastically.
At almost the same time, I heard the ex-jocks in the boys'
locker room burst into a loud laugh, and I heard Phil, somewhere
in the halls outside, call my name.
I stood there, looking at myself in the mirror, seeing a
boy's wet-dream image of a cheerleader. Then, in a flash of
images, one after the other... I thought about Phil's secret
drawer and the "Editor's Choice" letter... all his photos of the
blondes having sex with groups of men... the men in the next
room... my "new" body... nasty, raunchy sex... Phil watching his
wife... Phil seeing his "Accounting Club fantasies" being acted
out before his eyes... safe sex... being naughty... doing
something so totally bizarre compared to the rest of my stable
and quiet life... maybe even showing a few of my old classmates
what they missed fifteen years ago...
I stopped thinking. I didn't want my thoughts getting in
the way of what I was doing. I was just going to let things
happen.
I took a deep breath and then walked out of the girls'
locker room. The hall was empty, but I heard Phil call my name
again -- a lot closer this time.
I hesitated for a second and then pushed open the door to
the boys' locker room. The door "ssshhhhh'd" close behind me as
I looked around. The room was much larger than the girls' locker
room and definitely had a much stronger sweat smell -- only
instead of making me wrinkle my nose in disgust, it actually
turned me on a little more. Maybe that little talk with Phil in
bed had helped.
I stepped deeper into the room and looked down the next row
of lockers -- no one was in sight, but the smell of cigar was
getting stronger and the voices louder. Finally, as I peeked
around the next row, I saw the source.
Three men were sitting on the benches, leaning up against
the lockers, and passing around a half-full bottle of "Jack
Black."
Bob Anderson, Otis Parker, and Jamie Syzmanski -- all heroes
from our football team's "Glory Days" of State Championships.
Bob had been the running back, and was now running his father's
Chevy/Nissan/GMC dealership in town. He had been the most
coveted hunk in my high school years, and he was even better
looking now -- still built and with a full head of salt-and-
pepper hair. Otis had been the all-star center. He was huge and
Black. I think someone said he was a guard at the State
penitentiary. Jamie had been another lineman and was just as big
as Otis. He had turned his father's bar into the town's most
popular restaurant and lounge.
I had stopped thinking earlier, I was running on impulse
alone. I stepped out into the center of the row and smiled at
the three men, "Hello, boys. Reliving some past glories?"
The looks on their frozen faces were wonderful! They were
shocked and surprised, and obviously liked what they saw.
Jamie spoke first, "Janice? Janice Pearson?"
I smiled and nodded, "Well, it's Janice Vallegia now, but
who cares?" Feeling like a total VAMP, I walked up to Bob and
took the sour mash from his hand and belted down a healthy swig -
- no sense being the only sober one in the room. "You football
studs in need of a cheerleader?"
They all started blubbering at once -- (Was that the locker
room door I heard opening and closing?) -- about how sexy I
looked, how great my body was, how much they all enjoyed seeing
me again, how I could cheerlead for them anytime. On and on,
until Bob cut through the shit and pulled me down on to his lap
and mashed his mouth on mine, pushing his tongue down my throat.
As I returned his kiss, I heard Jamie, "Ahem, Otis, my man,
I guess these two would like to `reminisce' alone."
I held up my hand and broke away from Bob's mouth long
enough to say, "No need for anyone to leave, if that's alright
with you gentlemen."
BBRRIIINNNGGG!!! And we were off to the races!
Those three guys proved that there was a lot to be said for
teamwork! In under a minute, I was being gang-banged and loving
it far more than I imagined I would!

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