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Wednesday morning, at 9:15, the phone rang on my desk.

"Hi, this is Mike," I answered casually. It was my direct line, not a transfer from the desk, so I knew it was either one of my existing clients or a personal call.

"Hi, Mike, it's Marty," the cheerful voice on the other end of the line told me, although I'd recognized the voice right away. "How are you?"

"Good, and yourself?"

"I've been feeling great, to tell you the truth. Saturday night really invigorated me!"

"Glad to hear it," I laughed, "It's had me feeling pretty spry myself."

A chuckle from the other end of the line, then, "Hey, I know your busy and I don't want to interrupt you working, I just wanted to let you know Sheila and I are going to be downtown this afternoon and we wondered if you would be interested in some lunch."

"Sounds great," I told him, "Will one o'clock work for you?"

"Fine, fine. Do you know Macintosh's? Top floor of the Northtown Towers?"

"Yeah, that's real close to my building," I'd never been to the 5-star restaurant before, but I knew it by its reputation both for the quality of the food and the exclusive clientele often mentioned by the society pages as regulars. "I'll see you there."


At five 'til one I stepped off the elevator at the 33rd floor of the Northtown Towers hotel, the top floor and location of Macintosh's restaurant. Soft, pleasant music played in the background, audible above the general din of lunchtime conversations throughout the full dining room. The tables and booths were all hardwood, with plush, navy blue seats and brass accents, occupied by well-dressed people enjoying casual lunches that probably cost the equivalent of my weekly grocery bill.

I approached the hostess's station and its smiling sentinel, a lovely young redhead in a long blue skirt and a very well filled out white blouse. I told her I was meeting Marty and Sheila Masterson. With a warm smile she told me they were waiting for me in the bar; she would show me the way. As she led me through the restaurant, I kept a couple of paces back to enjoy the view of her slightly plump rear-end swaying through the restaurant, trying not to be too obvious about it.

"Ah, there you are. Early even!" Marty said, standing to shake my hand as we approached their table. "Good to see you, Mike. Thank you Debbie, you're an angel." The last accompanied by a wink at the smiling hostess.

"What a flirt," Sheila teased him as Debbie walked away. "I swear, he never lets up. How are you Mike?" She stood to give me an affectionate hug and a rather chaste peck on the cheek.

"It's good to see you, both of you. Sheila you look terrific." My momma always told me, flattery would get you everywhere. It helps when it's true, too, and Sheila was looking good. Her hair was up, and she was wearing a cream-colored silk blouse, unbuttoned enough to reveal a tempting but tasteful amount of cleavage. A black skirt clung deliciously to her hips. The hemline was below the knee but it had a generous slit up one side. A pair of high heels, four inches I guessed, completed the ensemble.

"Thanks," she said putting her hands behind her head in a playful pose. "Marty took me shopping this morning." She motioned for us all to sit. "He's been very patient with me for all the stores I've dragged him through, I think maybe he deserves a nice reward when we get home."

"I might even deserve sainthood," he joked, and then signaled to the waiter.

"What'll you have, Mike."

"Vodka Martini sounds good."

He passed it along to the waiter and ordered another round for Sheila and himself.

That waiter had no sooner left, before another arrived to tell us that our table was ready. After Marty gave instructions for our drinks to be delivered to our table, the waiter led us to a cozy booth in the far corner of the dining area.

"Not quite the view some of the other tables have," Marty told me, "but a quite a bit more private. You can have a conversation without the whole place overhearing."

The drinks arrived in moment and we all took a couple of minutes to look over the menu before Marty flagged down our waiter so we could place our orders. We made small talk while we waited for the food to arrive, about the city, the weather. They asked about Cynthia and I told them she was doing well, and started talking a bit about her job, her hobbies, etc.

As we talked about my wife, it was obvious that we were all thinking of the events of a few nights ago, although no one spoke of it overtly. It was an unusual feeling, talking so casually with these people that I really didn't know that well, but had shared a wild lustful night with. But it wasn't at all awkward or uncomfortable. Their comfort and ease with everything that was very new to me was infectious.

Our meals arrived shortly and Marty told the waiter we would let him know if we needed anything.

"That's one of the things I like about this place," he said after the waiter left. "The staff doesn't fawn over you after you've been served. They aren't asking you if everything is all right every five minutes. You can have an uninterrupted meal and a nice conversation, but if you do want anything, a quick wave and they're there right away."

"And speaking of being left alone to conversation," Sheila added, "we didn't ask you here just for fun, we do have something we wanted to talk with you about."

"Go right ahead," I offered, seeing them exchange a slightly nervous, slightly excited glance between them.

"Well," Marty began, "we don't want you to take what we're going to say the wrong way, and we hope we haven't read you wrong, so hear us all the way out before making any judgment, OK?"

"Fair enough," I replied. I was starting to get a little curious.

"To be right up front," Sheila said, "your wife's a slut. Now, don't have quite so shocked a look on your face. Actually, I misspoke. Your wife was the potential to be a slut. I don't mean this in a bad way. I, we, believe that your wife, deep down in her heart of hearts, can be a true cock-hungry, pussy-eating, cumslurping, nymphomaniac, exhibitionist slut. And that's a good thing."

"Mike," Marty interrupted calmly, "you need to either take a bite of that, or set the fork down, you look a little silly just holding it there."

I realized that Sheila literally had stopped me in my tracks, a forkful of poached salmon hovering in my hand right in front of me.

"I really don't quite know what to say," I started nervously, placing my fork back on the table.

"Just listen, ok," Marty calmly told me. "We don't mean 'slut' in a negative way. We really believe that some women have it in them to be unashamedly sexual, completely inhibition free. We've made it sort of a hobby over the years to find women like this, usually women who are already married by the way, and introduce them to what they can be. We teach them a whole world of carnal experiences they didn't even know how to dream of, but crave nonetheless. Not every woman has this potential. We are always careful about selecting anyone to do this with and we have never been wrong. And I've never seen a husband regret it."

"I'm sure you have a great sex life now," Sheila said, picking up the thread of conversation, "but you obviously are looking for something more. You told us as much yourself. You are the one that instigated our meeting, although I'd wager Cynthia didn't take much convincing. Oh, I'm sure she put up quite a show of reluctance, but we all saw how readily she dove right in on Saturday. You have to admit, you enjoyed watching her as much as you enjoyed participating yourself. Well, almost as much."

Marty continued, "If you think Saturday was fun, it was just the tip of the iceberg. It's not an instant thing, transforming your pretty young wife into a wanton slut, but the process of slowly introducing her to one thing after another is as exciting as the final result. At least we've always thought so, that's why we've had the pleasure of doing this with so many other couples."

"We mean what we said about it not being a negative thing, too," Sheila added. "We've interacted in a lot of scenes, in a lot of places with a lot of different people. We've seen women who will do anything and everything sexually, but they've been brought there through humiliation and dominance. Those women are all more than a little fucked up in the head.

"When a woman gets rid of all her hang-ups and inhibitions, and more importantly, has a natural hunger for sex, and does everything (and everyone) because she just plain enjoys it, then you have someone that will not only make your every fantasy come true, but she'll be well adjusted, too. She can be discrete around the neighbors and the family, while still rivaling the whore of Babylon in a more relaxed environment."

"Wow," I said, haltingly, "this is... kind of a lot all at once. I mean, I wanted more out of my sex life with Cynthia, but this just sounds..."

"We want you to think about it," Marty interrupted, "we aren't telling you to decide if you want to continue with us right this minute. We want you to think about what you really want out of your sex life. I think you got a taste of it a few days ago. And don't think we're really changing Cynthia. If she doesn't have it in her to be this kind of woman, it won't happen. But I really believe she can be, especially after Saturday."

"Maybe," I stuttered, "I don't know. She was drunk... I don't know..."

"I know she was drunk," Sheila said, "I got her that way. I don't feel a bit guilty about it either. Obviously, we can't tell her what we are trying to do, but we'll never force her. Instead we ease her into new situations, always making her comfortable. Alcohol of course eases inhibitions, but unless you're completely shit-faced it won't make you do something you really don't have it in you to do.

"Think about it, you're strictly straight, right?" I nodded my agreement. "Now if you'd had 3 or 4 drinks more than your usual limit, would you let some sweet talking guy take you in the ass and cum in your mouth? No way, right? Even though your drunk, it's not an inhibition that holds you back, it is just not in your nature."

"This is really a lot more than I'd ever really thought about before," I admitted. I really wasn't sure what to think. The ideas they planted in my mind were appealing on one level, but at the same time I had inhibitions of my own. I wasn't sure if this was really "right", or maybe I was just thinking it was impossible, that Cynthia really wasn't what they thought she was. "I'm not sure if this is what I really want. Maybe...I'm just not sure. And even if it is, I'm not sure Cynthia really is the slut you think she is deep down inside."

Marty thought for a moment, then answered, "As far as yourself, that's something you are going to have to figure out, I don't think you'll be disappointed. As for Cynthia, well, like we said, we've done this many times before, and we've never guessed wrong. In fact, we are more sure with Cynthia than we've been with all but 2 or 3 of the other women we've 'brought along'.

"I don't believe she would ever be unfaithful to you, but with a couple of drinks in her and your tacit approval, she didn't hesitate to fuck my brains out. And I pushed the envelope, too. When I finished in her mouth, that could have been too much, but she went right to it. Tell me does she usually swallow?"

"Well," I admitted, "she always has when she gives me a blowjob. But to tell the truth, she rarely gives me 'just' a blowjob, it's usually a warm up, foreplay."

"She's a natural cum-drinker," Sheila stated plainly, stating the crude title as pleasantly if she said she was a natural florist. "And that is a great step. There are no romantic illusions when you finish sex by taking your cock out of a woman and filling up her mouth. Your wife willingly did it four times last Saturday, admittedly she was a little hesitant, but I know that will change quickly. It's a great symbolic act and when she is eagerly asking to slurp down your cum, even upset when you 'waste-it' in her vagina, you'll know she's admitting to herself that she's acting in pure animal sexuality, pure unapologetic lust. It's really beautiful."

I honestly had been surprised that night when Marty came in her mouth. Not nearly as much as later, when Sheila had guided my cock from her wet, wonderful twat right to my wife's mouth. Cynthia hadn't even tried to stop it! After a short cocktail break we had all gone at it again, ending the same way. Although it had replayed itself a hundred of times in my mind, Cynthia had never mentioned that aspect of the evening since then.

We had talked about our experience several times; she enjoyed herself, and the very next day had told me she wanted to see Marty and Sheila again. I had to admit to myself that I had been thrilled watching my wife repeatedly perform such wanton act. We had both been horny as hell since that night, screwing every day since then, twice on Sunday and once already today before we had left for work, but I had never dared to repeat the "money shot" as they call it the porn movies. Now my mind was spinning, seeing it as a sort of training by our new friends, wondering what Cynthia's reaction might be.

"Of course," Sheila continued, "you will have to help a great deal. Your support, your acceptance and encouragement make everything possible. You may feel a little guilty at first in deceiving her, not telling her our intentions and our plans. But eventually, I can guarantee that you will feel foolish for ever having any guilt about anything, when you find that both of you are much happier."

"We've thrown a hell of a lot at you at once," admitted Marty, "and I think you get an idea what we can offer you. I want you to just think about it for a couple of days. What do you say we enjoy our lunches here in this fine restaurant, we won't talk about it anymore for now, OK?"

We ate in self-conscious silence. Occasionally, they or I would make a pleasant comment, usually about the excellent qualities of our meals, but for the most part they left me to my thoughts. Marty paid the check at the end of the meal and by then we had all relaxed a bit from the awkwardness during the meal and I was impressed again by their way of making me feel at ease despite the unexpected proposal they had just made. Sheila hugged and kissed me again as we got off the elevator in the lobby, and I returned Marty's handshake with the goodnatured friendship in which it was offered.

"Think about things a couple of days," he told me. "If you think you can slip out of work a bit early on Friday, we'd love to have you up to the house before you go home. You're sure to have some questions for us, and you'll have let the idea sink in a bit. We can have a couple of drinks and a good long talk."

I agreed to be there, and headed back to work with a lot on my mind. At this point however, work was the farthest thing from my mind. After half an hour I decided I was wasting my time even trying to be productive, so I took some flex time and headed home.


Cynthia's work schedule varies a lot, so I wasn't too surprised to see her car in the drive when I pulled up. She works for an interior decorating company that faces houses for real estate agents. Basically, they have a warehouse full of furniture they use to decorate brand new houses so they are easier for agents to sell, then once the house is sold they move all the furnishings back out. Depending on if a house has sold or new listings added, Cynthia can work anywhere from 2 to 10 hours a day.

The house was oddly quiet for having someone at home; no television or radio was playing, no conversation from the phone, no appliances running. I thought perhaps she had just arrived; maybe she was just now changing or freshening up. I went up stairs and saw our bedroom slightly ajar. As I approached it, I could hear sounds coming from the room. Easing the door open a little more, I peeked inside. Cynthia was masturbating.

Her skirt and panties lay discarded on the floor beside the bed, right next to her shoes. She was lying back on the bed with her white blouse unbuttoned and wide open, along with her bra, apparently the front clasping type. Her long blondes hair fanned out on the pillow and her pert little breasts were nicely displayed with their erect points aiming at the ceiling. The hum of her small, blue vibrator mixed with her panting breath. She was holding it tightly against her clit with one hand, while her other hand worked vigorously in a circular motion slight lower.

It was a very beautiful, very exciting, and a very unexpected spectacle. I had never known of her to masturbate, although I wasn't really surprised. It just wasn't something we had ever talked about. I had bought the vibrator shortly after we were married and we used it together occasionally in our more playful sexual episodes. I had often wondered if she ever used it when I was not around, now I guess I knew.

I stood unseen at the doorway for a couple of minutes, watching my petite young wife writhing in the pleasures of her own hands. I decided to take a bold step. I pushed open the door and stepped into the word. She froze with a start.

"Mike! I uh...what are you doing home? I was just... I mean..."

"Please," I said softly, "don't stop. It's ok. Keep going, enjoy yourself. I-I'd like to watch, if it's ok."

For a moment there was just an awkward silence, except for the continuing buzz of the vibrator. Finally, after what seemed like ages but was probably only a couple of seconds, a barely perceptible smile crossed her lips and she closed her eyes. The vibrator returned to her clit and her hand started once again to slowly caress her pussy lips, a finger periodically dipping inside.

She was a little self-conscious at first, but as she quickly returned to her previous level of pleasure it was as if once again I wasn't there. She was working her pussy faster now, alternating between rubbing the outside of her lips and sliding 2 or 3 fingers in side of her. Her hips rose and lowered lewdly in a regular rhythm against her hands.

My cock was straining almost painfully against my pants as I watched my wife in pure ecstasy. I quickly slipped my belt off then unzipped my fly, freeing the caged beast and letting my trousers drop to my feet. I was as rock hard as I had ever been in my life as I slowly ran my hand up and down my shaft. Cynthia was now surely oblivious to me; she was feverishly pumping three of her slender fingers into her twat and her knuckles had gone white grasping the vibe against her clit. Moans were starting to come louder, mingled in her panting breath. She was going to cum any moment now.

"Fuck!" she groaned loudly, "Oh fuck. Oh God! That's it! Oh fuck, oh shit Yes! Yes! Yes! Oh YES!" her hips bucked wildly as she came, bedsprings creaking. Her orgasm was obviously intense, lasting several seconds until her body came to rest, quivering slightly. She opened her eyes lazily and looked at me with a weak grin on her face, still trying to catch her breath.

I stepped out of my pants and approached the foot of the bed. Taking her ankles in my hands I pulled her toward me until her hips were at the edge of the bed. Our bed is rather high so I only had to squat slightly to put the head of my cock against her wet entrance.

"Wait," she protested weakly, "give me...just a minute."

Ignoring her half-hearted protest I pushed into her soaking cunt.

"Oooh," she grunted as I slid about halfway into her, my thick tool stretching her wider than her three slim fingers had. In just a couple of strokes I was filling her with all of my eight inches. I guided her hand with the still vibrating toy back to her sensitive clit as I worked my substantial dick leisurely in and out of her tight hole.

Engulfing her small tits in my hands I asked her, "Sure you want me to stop?"

"No, no. Fuck no," she moaned quietly.

I fucked her harder, with long full strokes. She wrapped her legs around my waist, fucking me back as I squeezed her firm little boobs, pinching her nipples. Soon she was nearly back to her previous state of bliss. I banged her hard for the next few minutes, feeling myself getting close to my own orgasm. I decide to break up the pace to help me last longer. I buried myself to the hilt, then slipped my hands from her breasts around her back and lifted her close to me. She wrapped her arms around my neck and I stood up with her in my arms. Her mere 100 pounds didn't stagger me a bit as I held her completely impaled on my shaft.

Her feet, crossed behind my back, lowered a bit to brace themselves against the backs of my thighs. She straightened her legs lifting herself nearly off my cock then relaxed them dropping to slap my balls against her nicely rounded ass. It took only a moment for both of us to gain our balance and then she was steadily fucking my cock, rising and slamming back down more rapidly. I could feel her stiff nipples dragging up and down across my chest and she was panting in my ear.

"Oh yeah, it's so good...that feels so good... oh I'm... gonna cum..." She was riding me harder, faster, sweat pouring off her body from the exertion. "Almost... there... Fuck! Oh fuck me Mike! Pound me! Please Mike, give it to me!"

I turned around and pushed her back roughly against the wall, pinning her there tightly with my chest. Her legs clamped around my waste and I repeatedly slammed my cock into her as hard as I could. She came in no time, her cunt muscles gripping my cock as she screamed her delight in my ear. Even as she came down from her sexinduced high I continued hammering her pussy against the wall.

"I'm gonna cum," I told her breathlessly, "God you make me feel so good, I'm gonna cum so hard."

"Cum for me baby," she told me, "cum on give it to me good!"

Caught up in the moment, feeling a little daring, "I want to cum in your mouth, Cynthia. Can I come in your mouth baby?"

No hesitation. "Sure darling, cum in my mouth. You can cum in my mouth."

I pulled out of her and she put her legs to the ground as I eased my weight off of her. She dropped instantly to her knees and took my cock into her mouth, cupping my balls in her hand. I lunged forward immediately, squirting a huge load of thick semen against the back of her throat. Almost involuntarily my hips convulsed, thrusting forward at each spurt. She coughed around my cock as she gagged slightly, struggling to swallow it all.

Finally I was done and I collapsed back on the bed. I looked over at Cynthia, now sitting back against the wall, her naked legs splayed wide open showing her freshly-fucked pussy glistening with her plentiful fluids. Her blouse still hung loosely on her, halfcovering one breast and her hair was a mess. She was looking back at me lovingly, her make-up streaked with sweat and I couldn't help but notice that there wasn't a trace of my cum around her mouth; she'd swallowed every last drop.