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Holiday In Mexico by Clayton Holiday

Holiday In Mexico

Chapter One

During my wife's recent 30th birthday celebration, when I gladly watched her physically submit to an unacquainted male, Laurie detected that I had not been entirely truthful with her. Afterward, she noted my willingness to perform fellatio on Delaney Spenser, especially in front of her, betrayed a competency gained elsewhere. A few days later we were packing to leave for the Wichita airport, when Laurie tried to confront me. "Clayton," she reassured me, "I can tell you've sucked cock before. It's nothing to be ashamed about."

"That's crazy," I replied. "If I hadn't been tied to a chair with leather restraints, I would never have consented to the blow job. It was not my idea of fun."

"I think you really loved that experience with my one-night stand more than you dare to admit," Laurie said. "That's okay. Now I know the truth. You are really bi-sexual. This can only mean we're going to enjoy ourselves even more in the future." Luckily, there was little time for further discussion. We had a precise schedule to follow. I had an important free lance writing assignment for Conde Nast Traveler, and Laurie was on a week-long vacation with me. Our destination was San Miguel de Allende, in central Mexico.

Founded in 1542, the old colonial city of 60,000 faces the broad sweep of el Río Laja and the distant blue of the Guanajuato Mountains. Set at 6,000 feet above sea level in the high reaches of the desert, San Miguel is a growing American retirement community with perfect weather. The days are warm and dry. Mexico City is five hours away by bus.

Chapter Two

The British writer Evelyn Waugh said it best: "One does not travel, any more than one falls in love, to collect material. It is simply part of one's life." For myself and many better than me, there is a fascination in distant places, and particularly in the borderlands of conflicting cultures and states of development, where ideas, uprooted from their traditions, become oddly changed in transplantation.

Like many aspiring writers I tried a stint as a journalist. I had a lively interest in the morbid and the abnormal. I also had an appetite for the extreme and the sensational, for the slimy and the unwholesome. I felt at ease among people who were liars, sluts, crooks, morons, cretins, perverts and obsessives. Perhaps it was better than being safe, obedient, sterile and submitting to the smugness and hypocrisy of middle-class American life. It's always a little demoralizing to know the government tolerates a certain amount of rat shit in our wedding cakes.

My career didn't last too long, however. It's a shabby way to make a living. I couldn't ignore the sleaziness, manipulation and mediocrity which underlie the facade of polite conversations with public figures. Besides, I quickly discovered that social connections and sublime ass-kissing attained better results than mere talent and hard work.

One aspect I don't miss is the annual Christmas party. Held at the pretentious local country club, it is hosted by the publisher, one of the great bores of all time. He reminded me of a typical Rotary Club member I once saw at O'Shea's bar on Tamm Avenue, during the annual St. Patrick's Day celebration in St. Louis. The guy was shit-faced drunk, passed out beneath the urinal. He just laid there on the dirty floor, resplendent in a finely tailored suit, his fedora soaked with piss. The urinal leaked, yet he appeared unfazed by the whole affair.

Each year, at the start of the Christmas party, every guest passes through a mock receiving line with his eminence, the publisher. Colleagues in the newsroom frequently talk about that awful "refinery smell," of the local oil company, but that is nothing compared to the concentrated essence of his unwashed prick.

Chapter Three

Several times on the flight to Mexico City, Laurie pestered me, discretely of course, about a past I had kept hidden from her. She wasn't mad, just tenacious about gaining my confession of sex with other men. I tried to deflect her every line of inquiry, but I knew eventually my wife would elicit substantial details of "my secret life."

Once, before we cleared customs in Dallas, Laurie whispered to me:

"Clayton, have you ever sucked a black cock?" she asked. "The experience is very erotic. I can visualize your ovaled white lips wrapped securely around a thick, ebony cock."

I tried to ignore her, but my wife was persistent.

By late afternoon, we arrived at the Benito Juarez International Airport in Mexico City and cleared customs easily. The exchange rate at the airport, and throughout the country, was $1-to-$N7.5 pesos. The average wage for those Méxicanos lucky enough to find work was less than $3.50 a day.

We arranged for a licensed taxi to take us to Hotel Bamar, first-class accommodations located at Avenida de Juarez #52 in la Centro Historico, the heart of the city. Our room featured a double-bed suite overlooking the Parque Alameda, a large park in the downtown area. The cost was $N245 pesos - about $30.

Laurie continued to badger me for details of my pre-marital encounters with other men. She knew how to wear down my resistance. We stood in front of the balcony, providing a full view from the sixth-floor for interested pedestrians at street level. Laurie gently massaged my cock until I was at full attention. She slowly unbuckled my belt, unbuttoning my pants to let them fall to the floor in front of her. She knelt down and massaged my swollen shaft lovingly. She stroked it delicately, lightly kissing and licking the head. Laurie took my cock far into her mouth and proceeded to fellate me. She swallowed me all the way, gingerly squeezed my balls, and let me slide gracefully in and out of her mouth.

As soon as my wife knew I was about to burst with the need to climax, she stopped suddenly.

"Tell me everything," she demanded. "Describe your most outrageous experience with a man. You know how I love to suck cock. But if I don't find out, right now, I'm going to make you watch me bestow this favor on another man, and your cock will never pass my lips again."

It was difficult to argue with my wife. Laurie had an undeniable talent that she always used to her advantage.

"You're absolutely right," I finally admitted. "The evening of your birthday was not the first time a man inserted his cock in my mouth. I'm ashamed to say I've lost count of how many blow jobs I performed before our marriage."

My wife actually laughed at the disclosure. "So, you are a trashy cocksucker. You thought you could hide this from me?"

"I didn't think you'd understand. I never wanted you to think less of me."

"Of course I realize what it's like to succumb to a throbbing cock. If you can't help yourself, either, then it's nothing to apologize about. It takes nothing away from your sexiness."

Chapter Four

Laurie led me to the bed in our hotel suite and made certain of my comfort before I responded to any of her questions. She removed her clothing and rubbed her ample breasts against my chest. They were positively magnificent. Instinctively, I reached for her tits, stroking and kneading them and feeling her nipples slowly gain erection. I started to suck a taut nipple, as my right hand moved down to her pussy, pressing into the soft, wet curly pubic hair. But my wife reminded me of my consequences. No disclosures, no more blow jobs.

"Why do you really want to know?" I asked with skepticism. "Doesn't it bother you that I've been with other men?"

"I'm not put off by the idea," she said. "I would be threatened if you needed another woman. Because I'm all the woman you'll ever need. But I can't possibly satisfy you like a man."

I told my wife about the summer of 1980, when I spent late Saturday nights cruising the Empire Baths on East Colfax Avenue in Denver. It was virtually the end of the hedonistic 1970s, just before the AIDS epidemic shattered the gay bath house scene.

There were many reasons which once enticed me into that peculiar underground. Some credit belongs to Kim Yang, a Korean foreign exchange student who stayed briefly with my family, when I was a junior in high school. We shared the same quarters, with twin beds. He was unquestionably attractive. His exotic, Oriental looks aroused spirited appeal in many young women.

Late at night, Kim laid in bed and often exposed himself. He seemed oblivious to me, as he casually placed his hand around his stiff, uncircumcised cock and deliberately masturbated to orgasm. Instead of feigning disapproval, I couldn't help but watch Kim with thorough fascination. Sometimes I regret that I didn't offer myself to him.

Frequently, I visualized when Kim was close I would rise up and stop his hand from moving to finish himself. I wanted that pleasure. I would go down on him. I would fuck him with my lips and build up to a steady rhythm. I was physically attracted to Kim, but could never admit the truth. I thought the affirmation would make me strictly queer, and that was an unwelcomed label. I didn't realize I was bisexual. For me, bisexuality has always been a hidden area. Many men can't admit it to themselves, and certainly can't admit it to anyone else.

Yet I also can't the deny the impact of John Rechy's "City of Night," similar to a male hustler's version of "On The Road." A truly gifted novelist, Rechy described perfectly the anarchic restlessness of narcissistic obsession. When I was in my late teens, that world opened its door to me and I walked in.

With the attention Laurie offered, my cock was so hard it ached. I wanted to ravish her wet cunt. But her resistance was stronger than mine. So, I continued toward my promised admission.

My most scandalous experience at the Empire Baths occurred one Saturday afternoon, when I arrived earlier than usual. I was unbelievably aroused, long before I walked on the premises. I wanted pure hot, degenerate sex. In the those surroundings, I especially favored being compliant with a nude male.

After disposing of my street clothes in a rented locker, I toured the male whorehouse in a skimpy white towel, wrapped loosely around my waist. I was encircled by other inverts too numerous to count. When I stepped into a small, darkened room, an anonymous man abruptly stood before me. His hard dick pressed firmly against my crotch made it clear he was nude. The faceless man was well-built, muscular and determined to assert himself. He jerked my towel away, placed his strong hands against both sides of my face, and compelled me to kneel and suck his thick, musky smelling cock. He had a prodigious, tubular shaped penis, similar to an opulent bratwurst. I had to use both hands to guide him between my lips.

The man began giving a face fuck that was both intense and oddly pleasurable. At the same time, another anonymous fellow reached for my swollen cock and favored me with some lively hand manipulation. However, he soon grew weary of this activity and dissolved into the darkness from which he had just emerged.

The main libertine continued with his oral sodomy of me. My hands left his cock and willingly seized his hips, assisting with the tempo of his strokes, as he fucked my mouth. In a short time my nostrils were overwhelmed with the potent scent of his cock, his pubic hair, his balls. Finally, he reached his peak and began to spurt warm, salty cum, some of it into my throat, and the rest of it onto my face. When he was finished, and we moved into better light, I realized he was of African-American descent. I had just sucked off a black man. Undeniably, it was a very erotic experience."

After hearing this indecent confession, Laurie admonished me playfully for being so thoroughly depraved.

"I can't believe I'm married to such an accommodating debauchee. You have no morals, no scruples."

Then my wife begged to be fucked.

"Please, right now," she whimpered. "Don't waste another second."

However, my acknowledgment was far from complete. I wanted to provide a full report of my sexual corruption that night at the Empire Baths. I kept her waiting, in a state of consummate yearning.

"Later in the evening, perhaps after the passage of only an hour, the black man found me again. I was wandering the halls like a demented voyeur, scrutinizing the rooms with open doors, where men made themselves readily available. If a male sat on a corner of bed, this signified he wanted a blow job. On the contrary, if he laid on his stomach, this advertised he wanted to be fucked.

I was utterly captivated by this spectacle of dissolute sex. I was in the middle of Petronius' "The Satyricon."

My black libertine took my hand and made me feel his stiff, ebony cock. I was helpless to resist him. He led me to a public room with a very peculiar leather swing. After inviting me to sit, he opened an amyl nitrate capsule and encouraged me to inhale. He placed the head of his cock right in the middle of my ass, then rubbed it back and forth across the diminutive opening.

At first, I thought he was teasing me. I had never been fucked by a man.

"I want to feel your cock inside my ass," I heard myself say, as if I was just a ventriloquist's dummy.

He rubbed his cock a few more times against my bottom.

"Go ahead, fuck me," I decided.

His cock was already so stiff from rubbing between my legs that it broke into me with surprisingly little effort.

"Slowly," I moaned, "work it in slowly."

Meanwhile, a modest gathering of nude men surrounded us with awestruck admiration. Most stood and masturbated, others performed oral sex.

I shifted my hips slightly to accommodate the unaccustomed presence of something inside my ass. Then he pressed his black cock into my ass, pushing hard, splitting me open. After an eternity, he was all the way inside, and slowly, he pulled his thick cock out of my ass, then rammed it back, again.

"You feel so fucking big," I moaned. "I feel like I've been split in two."

He started pumping me harder, driving his cock in and out of my tight ass with complete abandon. I couldn't even breathe. Finally, he unloaded his cum into my ass, and then turned my head, and made me inhale another amyl nitrate capsule. Moments later, I was fucked in my ass again."

Laurie turned toward the headboard and positioned herself on her knees, doggie-style.

I grabbed her hips, and shoved my cock effortlessly into her wet, soaking pussy. I treated her like a primitive, and spanked her ass several times as I kept fucking.

"You're so filthy," she said as I thrust into her.

"It's true, I can't help myself," I answered calmly. "I love sex."

"I want to see you fucked by another man."

"Of course you do. That's what every wife wants to see."

"But I'm serious," she panted. "I want to see you on your knees, just like this, while a a man pulls the cheeks of your bottom apart and bangs you."

"Who's the filthy degenerate here?" I asked, as I poured the contents of my hot cock into her soupy cunt.

Chapter Five

For our first night in Mexico City, we walked along Avenida de Juarez to the House of Tiles, a former three-story mansion that is now a popular restaurant operated by Sanborn's. A four-course meal was $N78 pesos - about $11 each. The sidewalks were jammed with merchants in make-shift stalls, selling every conceivable item from crucifixes to pornographic video tapes.

Early the next morning, I walked a few blocks from the hotel to Bancomer on Paseo de la Reforma for some currency exchange. Three guards stood outside the bank's entrance with automatic rifles. I picked up the Friday morning English-edition of the Mexico City Times: the 100-year-old widow of Pancho Villa had just died in Cuidad de Chihuahua; on Wednesday the Army established checkpoints near the Hidalgo-Veracruz border for potential insurgents in the mountains of Eastern Mexico. Clearly, Mexican officials hoped to avoid another uprising like Chiapas.

Afterwards, we took a taxi to Terminal del Centro Autobus del Norte, and bought Primera Plus (first-class) tickets to San Miguel de Allende for $N120 pesos each ($16) on the Auto Naves bus line. Across the park from the bus station, a man squatted in dirt outside a cantina, performing the timeless Third World ritual of repairing a flat tire, while under a roof of scraps of plywood and tin lashed together with wire, a girl sold las cervezas frías (cold beers) for 50 centavos - around 20 cents.

Mexico City, with its estimated population of 25 million spread out over a thousand square miles, is certainly the hemisphere's largest city. It's an amazing metropolis of mammoth proportions. More than an hour after leaving the bus station, the city still announced its presence as long, ragged adobe slums and the cardboard lean-tos of squatter's settlements stretched far up into the hillsides. It's a great place to become lost from the rest of the world. Perhaps this is why, even 60 years ago, Leon Trotsky chose Mexico City as his last refuge.

In addition to a modest lunch, a sandwich and choice of soft drinks, the bus had air-conditioning, curtained windows, a VCR, numerous TV monitors, a bathroom and reading lamps above every seat. Playing that week was Brian De Palma's "Capone" and another American feature - all dubbed in Spanish.

Off in the distance were the spectacular mountain ranges of Central Mexico, known as El Bajio - the bowl. While passengers on the bus enjoyed air-conditioning and recent Hollywood films, campesinos toiled in the withering, sun-baked fields behind ox-driven ploughs.

We sat in the back of the bus, a reasonable distance from the other travelers. My wife, still dwelling on the revelations of the night before, showed no offense at my bi-sexual proclivity.

Laurie rested her right hand leisurely on my crotch. Without notice, she began to extend her fingers and lightly massage my cock. I continued gazing out the window, unsure of her intentions. Soon, however, she had me aroused.

"What are you doing?" I whispered.

"Clayton, I can't help myself," she said. "I have to suck your cock."

"That's crazy, not here."

"Don't worry, no one will ever notice. I have given you blow jobs in public before."

Laurie was right, of course. I had a gratifying catalogue of memories: in the balcony of a porno movie theater; in our car, driving down the highway in broad daylight; in a Indiana cornfield, after the wedding of friends; and at the college library during final exam week.

My wife discretely unzipped my pants and began kissing the head of my swollen cock. I feigned composure, still admiring the scenery of the landscape. Lost in our private carousing, we took no notice of a young Mexican man in his late teens, who deliberately acquired the seat in front of us.

"Señor, su esposa es muy hermosa," he said very quietly
[Mister, your wife is very beautiful.]

Laurie remained undisturbed by his presence, but I did find the young man terribly annoying. I tried to pretend he didn't exist.

"Señor, su esposa gusta mamar mi pene?" he mocked.
[Mister, would your wife like to suck my penis?]

Although Laurie seemed to delight in her misconduct, being a public cocksucker, I finally lost my poise and splattered her sunglasses with cum.

"Señor, Ud. es un hombre muy malo," the young man laughed quietly.
[Mister, you are a very bad man.]

"Americanos loco," he said in a voice that was cool, condescending, amused.
[Crazy Americans.]

Satisfied by our exhibition, the fellow retreated to his regular seat and no doubt shared the experience with his immediate companions. It hardly mattered. We suffered no ridicule from other members of the bus, and the driver seemed oblivious to our impropriety.

Chapter Six

A few hours later, we arrived at the Central de Autobuses in San Miguel de Allende.

We had reserved accommodations at the Hotel Quinta Loreto, a hacienda-style motel on Calle Loreto #15, a cobblestone street one block east of the city Jardin (plaza).

Outside the motel, the markets stretched for several blocks in either direction. Early each morning Indians arrived from the countryside with burros and unpacked their craft items. Our first evening in San Miguel, we went to Cafe Ole-Ole for dinner, a few blocks away at Calle Loreto #62.

After a leisurely stroll along cobblestone streets back to Hotel Quinta Loreto, my wife and I sat in some whicker chairs, positioned outside our room, and enjoyed the warm, summer weather of July. Some cold bottles of Tecate made for a perfect evening.

Yet a nearby swimming pool on the grounds soon tempted us. It was already 10:30 p.m. and darkness completely covered the vicinity of the pool. Regardless, we decided to enjoy a discreet skinny dip, and quickly changed into beach robes.

When we reached the pool deck area, we surprised a male guest considering the same idea. He was relaxed on a chaise lounge, wearing no clothes. At first his cock was semisoft but that changed abruptly. Laurie was awestruck by the man's thick, dusky cock.

"I thought I'd be alone at this hour," the man said in perfect English. "I hope you're not offended."

His Spanish and Native-American heritage showed in his lustrous jet-black hair, brown eyes, and dark skin complexion.

My wife noticed the unmistakable evidence of arousal protruding beneath the towel he had just applied to his lower body. Her eyes swept down to his cock, widening in surprise as she saw it. Laurie's white beach robe had fallen slightly open, exposing generous proportions of her breasts. Perhaps the Tecate had lowered her inhibitions. From where the man sat, he glimpsed the brownish circle of a nipple. I reached to untie Laurie's robe, making her completely unveiled. At once, her huge, delicious breasts were exposed. She looked at me questioningly, fretting as she started to re-tie the belt. Then, she hesitated, turning her gaze toward the stranger. He nodded his agreement; she returned the gesture, allowing her robe to drop down her sides. She was naked before him. I knew my wife couldn't resist the undivided attention of two sympathetic men.

In a few seconds the stranger stood up, discarding his towel. He was completely undressed again. I looked at him. I couldn't believe how beautiful he looked. I had never thought a man could be really beautiful, but he was. His body was perfectly proportioned with a muscularity that was hidden beneath a slightly dark complexioned skin. The dark curls of his hair repeated themselves upon his chest, and his hips were slender. But then I saw that his cock was growing in size, even while I watched. It seemed to be getting bigger and bigger and in a few moments it was standing out thick and hard from his groin, like a huge, heavy spear. My eyes grew round as I looked, fascinated. His cock was perhaps seven inches in length.

Laurie's face assumed a shameless smirk. Feeling naughty, she stood in front of the stranger.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"This what you really want," she answered.

The nude stranger flagrantly circled his fingers over her large breasts, grazing her nipples while she shuddered and moaned lightly. The man leaned forward, pressed his lips to hers, kissing her as he roughly pinched her nipples. Whimpering, she embraced him. His hands kept stroking at her breasts and then began to rove the full length of her body, over her soft, fleshy belly and down to her thighs. He went straight for the warmth of her cunt, savoring the silky skin beneath his fingers as though it were some precious material he was contemplating buying.

The man moved his lips lower, kissing my wife lightly, tormenting her with gentle touches. She responded by moving closer to him, savoring his masculine attention. He delighted in her breasts, mouthing them, focusing on her nipples. She closed her eyes, each touch on her leading straight to her wet cunt. His balls appeared swollen and Laurie gingerly reached out and felt them in her hands. Finally the man withdrew his lips from her, leaving her panting, gasping for breath, still caught up in his arms.

Laurie glanced at me and smiled. "Watch this," she said.

Racked with lust, my wife knelt down before the man and her hand retracted the loose folds of the foreskin to reveal the reddish satin of his cock. Then, she took all of his penis in her mouth; her nose nestled solidly into the black hairiness of the man's groin. Laurie moaned as she strained to encircle the cock that curved up from a thick mass of black pubic hair. My cock began to stiffen immediately. I knew so well how it felt to have that delicious tongue swirling around the head of my cock. Although I was intent upon watching the other man's hard shaft as it was absorbed deeper into her mouth, I couldn't stop the unconscious stroking of my own penis. Then I noticed the man flexing his hips, driving his massive cock even deeper up into my wife's oval lips. Laurie's head swayed as her tongue glided along the cock thrusting down her throat. My wife's eyes were closed; her face serene, and her hair fell against the stranger's hairy thighs. The bulging veins of his cock throbbed against the walls of her mouth.

The stranger murmured in gratification as he felt Laurie's warm mouth sucking his cock. He held my wife's head and moved his cock in and out of her mouth as if he were fucking her cunt. He thrust harder and harder into her face, so fast she could barely breathe. He moaned and spoke indecently to my wife while he fucked her mouth.

"You cocksucker," he said. "You could earn a living on your knees."

As I watched the oral-genital act between my wife and the stranger, I could already feel her mouth working on me. Faster and faster she moved over this man's loins, her mouth alternately nibbling and sucking, her cheeks hollowing, her lips stretched in a wide oval around that shaft tightening and relaxing, and I knew in a moment it would be over. Even more fervently I wished that it could be me, who would be cumming in my wife's delicious mouth.

He kept grinding his hips against her face. He started to move faster, taking his cock all the way out of her mouth and then forcing it back down her throat. The stranger tilted her head back and sank his cock down her throat one last time. His balls slapped against her chin. I saw him go rigid, he held my wife's head and started shooting cum all over lips. I saw her throat, the muscles working hard as she swallowed. She opened her mouth and stuck out her tongue, while he continued covering her face. When he let her go, his semen was smeared on her face.

Afterward my nude wife got up off her knees and dove into the pool to clean off. Meanwhile, the stranger picked up his few clothing items and departed for the night.

I kissed Laurie passionately, helped her with her white beach robe and took her back to our room. We kissed again, and lay down next to each other. She fondled my cock as we lay there talking about what had just happened. Amazingly, in a few minutes, she crawled on top of me, opened her legs and slowly impaled herself on my cock. We fucked for a long time.

Chapter Seven

The next evening Diego Pandano noticed us from across the room of La Placita de San Francisco. He was the stranger from the swimming pool at our motel. An attractive man in his early 30s, attired in a blue polo shirt and white summer slacks, he smiled easily.

"May I join you?" he asked.

Allegedly, Diego was a web page consultant from Sante Fe on vacation in San Miguel de Allende. We engaged in other small talk.

Yet there was no possibility of ignoring our first encounter.

"I enjoyed myself very much last night," Diego said. "I hope you both found the evening memorable."

I knew my wife was attracted to Diego, and would readily submit to his masculine charms again. I loved watching her act like a slut with him. I loved the way he dominated her and spoke coarsely to her. What I couldn't admit was my own attraction to him.

"Why don't we meet again tonight?" Diego proposed. "There's no reason we should deceive ourselves about formalities, don't you agree?"

This direct approach was appealing. He was right, of course. After our encounter by the pool, there was no excuse for inhibitions.

Skillfully, Diego guided my hand into his lap. I tried to resist, but his hold was very strong. My fingers touched his now open fly and he directed my fingers further into his pants. I touched his rigid erection through his very damp briefs. Reaching further I found the head of his cock. I couldn't believe what was happening and was grateful for the dim seclusion of our corner in the restaurant.

My wife knew right away what Diego compelled me to do under the table. She was scarcely surprised.

I began to stroke his thick erection. It felt good in my hand. Then with a series of very slight jerks Diego quietly had an orgasm, his warm juices soaking through his briefs, and all over my fingers. When he finished cumming, I slipped my hand out of his pants and wiped it off on my napkin. Diego got his zipper back up just moments before the waiter showed up with the check, which he insisted on picking up.

Chapter Eight

After dinner the three of us walked around the plaza, enjoying the warm night air of central Mexico, before heading back to the Hotel Quinta Loreto.

We had barely stepped into our modest room, before Diego's hand was up under Laurie's skirt, and it didn't take any imagination at all to know what he was doing. He quickly pushed her dress up around her waist and her panties down from her hips, pulling them over her legs and off, throwing them to the floor beside the bed. She allowed herself to be manipulated like a puppet.

"Wet already?" he asked, feeling his penis stiffen.

Laurie responded with a series of delightful moans.

Diego quickly unfastened her 44c bra and searched out her already hard nipples, toying with their round little points, feeling the large orbs of her breasts jiggling beneath him. He squeezed the large, soft protrusions with his strong hands, massaging them slowly but firmly.

Diego told my wife to loosen his belt and pull down his pants. I could tell that the almost obscene, quiet noise of his zipper being pulled down, aroused her intensely. The briefs Diego wore were black, and very much like a jock-strap. They barely covered his crotch, and had a piece of fabric that covered his ass like a skimpy bikini covers a woman's. Diego's big cock rose bluntly from his briefs, while Laurie's hand playfully moved up and down the smoothness of its length.

Finally, Diego looked at me and said, "If you don't mind, I'm going to fuck your wife."

"I don't mind, but why don't you ask her?"

Using his cock as a handle, Laurie was on her feet, already leading him toward the bed. She had both hands clasped firmly around his shaft.

"He has asked me," she said, "and I told him ... yes."

My wife rolled deliberately over on top of Diego. I saw her white thighs part then close again, and I knew that she had captured the stiffening shaft of his cock, holding it tight between her clamped-together thighs. Laurie continued to grunt and push steadily down against him as his cock easily parted the opening of her vagina and slowly sunk into the warm depths of her cunt. As soon as Diego felt the elastic flesh of her pussy giving away, he plunged headlong into her, entering with a wet, slushing noise. My wife growled low and animal-like on top of him, and I watched the quick undulations of her buttocks and knew that she was grinding her cunt up and down the length of his erect cock.

Yet before Laurie could achieve an orgasm, Diego disengaged himself. He told me I was going to suck his cock, before he fucked me in front of my wife.

"No way," I protested. "You've got this all wrong."

I glanced quickly at Laurie for some vindication, but she indicated with a simple nod to comply.

"Go ahead, Clayton," she said. "I want to watch you submit completely to another man."

Instinctively, my hands went to his thick, dusky cock and I began to fondle him. Diego made me embrace him, our bodies pressed together, his muscular hands on my shoulders. He forced me to move down the bed and position myself between his legs. As my nude wife licked and sucked his nipples, he moaned and stiffened even more in my hand. Then he pulled Laurie on top of him, so she could straddle his mouth. Obediently, I lowered my mouth and enveloped the ample head of his engorged cock. I sucked on the extremity and slipped my tongue over the end and licked and sucked him. I could taste the fresh evidence of my wife's cunt on his cock.

My lips widened around his member as I sank more and more of it into my mouth. I began to suck and lick his balls. They were both heavy, warm and they seemed to flow over my hands. Diego began moving his hips up and down as I licked them, and I sucked one into my mouth. Laurie was moaning softly, and squeezing her breasts. I lifted up his balls and licked underneath them, all the way down towards his anus, then back up. Diego moaned into Laurie's cunt, so I did it again.

"Not bad, cocksucker," Laurie said, smiling broadly at me.

Diego made me give him a long, slow blow job. This lasted for quite some time. I brought him to the point of exploding a few times but each time he made me back off in order to postpone his resolution. At the same time, my wife straddled Diego's face. While I sucked his cock, his hands traced a sensuous path from Laurie's large breasts down her fleshy stomach. Her pussy quivered as his lips grazed her swollen clitoris, causing her body to undulate. His lips worked at the tender moistness of her cunt, parting the soft silky pubic hair. His tongue darted lewdly into the burning crevice of her vagina. She rubbed her cunt back and forth across Diego's chin which often made his tongue slip from her pussy and brush her asshole. Laurie pulled his face deep between her legs and clamped her thighs around Diego's head, her hips bucking and pushing his tongue deeper and deeper into her cunt. Then she rode his tongue until she had a powerful climax. When her orgasm subsided, she released her hold on his head.

"Now I'm going to fuck you," Diego said to me in a voice without emotion. "I think you need a good reaming. I don't care if your wife watches or not."

Diego placed a textured condom over his cock, while I knelt in position before him, an expectant, masochistic gleam in my eyes, wanting everything. He massaged my ass with oil. Diego ran his palm down the crack, to my balls, back up to my asshole, again and again. He slid his cock inside, inch by inch. My ass was pliant and responsive, yielding to Diego's thick cock. But he was splitting me apart. I was sure it would hurt but the feelings were anything but pain, as his thick cock slipped further into me. Diego grasped my hips and I felt his balls rest against my cheeks, softly brushing my skin as he slowly pumped with a rhythmic motion, and an agonizing pace that drove me mad with desire. He reached around and took my hard cock in his hand and masturbated me to the rhythm of his thrusts. Diego penetrated me as deeply as possible. He completely filled my ass with his cock. I felt like I only existed for his cock. I had no other purpose, no other choices. I could feel droplets of his sweat falling on my back as he fucked me in the ass. The pain was obviously gone, now, and Diego began to saw in and out of me, fucking me with a wild abandon I had never before felt. I matched him, my face reflecting a salacious joy, as I watched the dark, hardened shaft of his cock moving in and out of me rhythmically. In absolute bliss, I ground back against him, taking all of him deep into my ass, until suddenly, unexpectedly, I came.

I quickly lost track of time.

While Diego treated me like a debased cocotte, Laurie presented her beautiful derriere and told me to kiss her ass.

"Don't act shy in front of company," she said. "You know you love it."

She was right. I had kissed her ass countless times. My wife loved being worshipped like a exquisite female sovereign. Numerous times at home, Laurie lifted up her dress without warning and demanded that I pull down her panties and minister to her ass. This frequently transpired in our bedroom, after she dressed for a social event; in the kitchen, before guests arrived for dinner; many times in the living room, while she acted blasé as Tom Brokaw read the nightly news. The consequence for insubordination was a loss of undefined sexual privileges. Perhaps Laurie withheld her cunt that night, refused to give me her artful blow job, or simply masturbated my swollen cock. Besides, I actually thrilled in this unspeakable taboo.

So, just as before, I massaged her lovely cheeks and spread them to reveal a rosy anus. I kissed her ass and slid my tongue in as deep as possible. I ate her out, like it was her cunt. Laurie moaned and just pushed her ass harder against my exploring tongue.

Diego announced he was about to come. Then he groaned and I felt his cock jerking in me, and my asshole became sloppy and wet.

Chapter Nine

Afterward, Diego and my wife showered together in the warm glow of the bathroom's dim lighting. Laurie went on her knees again and worshipped his cock with her lips and tongue, pleasuring him until he reached full erection. Pulling my wife to her feet, Diego forced her against the tiled wall, pushing her legs apart. She offered no struggle, as the water pounded her face. Turning her head away from the shower water as he probed her with his fingers, Laurie closed her eyes and sighed. Diego soaped up her body as the warm water trickled down her legs. He slowly ran his hands down her back, gliding them around to massage her soft belly and caress each breast. Her docile moans were all that could be heard above the rush of the water.

Diego helped dry off my wife with a huge towel. Then he led Laurie back to bed and forced her to turn toward the wall. Her knees sunk into the bed sheets, her hands braced against the wall above the headboard. His large hands grasped her hips. Diego then entered her cunt from behind. Laurie's hands remained flat on the wall, as he fucked her from behind. His balls slapped repeatedly against her ass. My wife turned to look back, awed by Diego's huge cock. She watched his member pushing deeply into her well lubricated cunt. She spread her knees even wider as the length and breadth filled her.

Once more, I felt the involuntary lurch of my own aching hard-on, my hand going to the shaft of my turgid cock, and with gentle fingers I caressed the length of it.

When Diego finished with her, my wife's vulva was swollen and her pubic hair was soaked and matted with cum.

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