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“You are fucking joking! I am not doing that. Which one of you dirty bastard’s came up with that idea?”

“Come on Sal, it’ll be fun. We’re all getting stale, we could do with something to liven our lives up.”

She looked at him from where she lay on her side of their bed trying to decide if he were pulling her leg or serious. He came up with some crazy notions; admittedly, many had engendered a degree of spice as their marriage moved toward the end of its second decade, but this topped everything. Though he was right in one respect, a degree of staleness was enveloping all of their lives, she wasn’t sure this proposal was a way to tackle it.

“How do you know it will be fun? At the very least I foresee severe embarrassment, at the worst, someone will get pissed off and cause a scene. I bet this was Pete’s idea. On Valentine’s Day as well! He’s got a fucking nerve, Valentine’s Day is supposed to be for spending with your partner, not fucking your best friend’s husband or wife.”

He reached under the bedcovers, his hand automatically finding the gap between her thighs, sliding his hand into the warmth between her legs.

“Don’t do that. I’m not in the mood.”

“You were in the mood just now.” Rob said putting on his small boy face, reaching with his fingertips to stroke the underside of her bottom.

“That’s before you became a pervert. Honestly, you three boys are a bunch of children. You sit in the pub and cook up these wild schemes, did you really expect any of us to take it seriously. Stop it!”

She giggled, grinding her thighs to try to dislodge his fingers, not a serious effort, like moving away or slapping him down with her hand. She’d woken feeling horny, wanted to fuck, but he was going to have to do some serious foreplay if he wanted to retrieve the situation.

“Well smarty pants. None of ‘us children’, as you put it, came up with the plan. It’s June’s idea.”

In one movement, Sally removed his hand and sat up in bed staring incredulously at her husband.

“June! What Pete’s June. I don’t fucking believe it.”

She believed it only too well. They are three couples, they’ve grown up together, holidayed together, got pissed, ate dinners and flirted outrageously together. Of the three women, Sally, Avril and June, the latter was the extrovert. First one to go topless when they were in their teens, the organiser of the infamous holiday in France that turned out to be a nudist colony where any form of clothing in public was strictly forbidden. And the only one, as far as Sally knew, who’d had an affair outside of marriage.

While she contemplated this news, Rob took the opportunity to move closer running his hand across the swell of her bottom pressed against the bed sheet up across the back and round under her breast, he knew better than to squeeze, Sally responded to soft touches, if he squeezed her breast or pinched her nipple, well, he might just as well have thrown a bucket of cold water over her. She moved against his touch accommodatingly, he moved closer planting kisses along the buttock and thigh nearest to him.

Almost absentmindedly she reached down and stroked the side of his face, he glanced up to see her staring blankly across the room, thinking. He took his opportunity shifting toward her; she lowered the thigh nearest to him to give him access.

“Ouch, you need to shave. Just what do you think you’re doing?” She asked pushing back the duvet, exposing his head

Rob had his head in her lap, beard stubble scratching at her skin, planting kisses on her tummy, teasing at her pubic hairs with his lips.

“Breakfast.” He answered.

“What makes you think you deserve any?”

“Don’t mind me, I’ll just help myself. You carry on doing what ever it is you’re doing.”

“You pig!” She said leaning back, taking her weight on her elbows. “Come round in front, do it properly, your beard stubble is like needles.”

Rob quickly shuffled round before she changed her mind, felt her take his head in her hands and guide him between her thighs, shifting her position slightly to make sure he’d be able to reach all of the bits she wanted him to lick.

“That’s better, do it how I like it. If you’re good, you can have dessert.”

Sally liked nothing better than a good tongue fucking, normal sex always better for her after Rob had gone down on her, they’d worked out a routine years ago in their late teens on her Mum’s sofa. The stories that sofa could tell, how they’d never been caught astonished them. During the marriage years, they’d experimented many different ways to have sex with various degrees of success, oral then fucking the preferred route for both, especially in the morning when the ripened smell of her sex aroused Rob.

If he’d thought about, which he didn’t because he was too intent on making her cum – though the rare tiny ejaculation against his mouth should have given him a clue – Sally was remarkably turned on this Saturday morning, spreading herself more than essentially necessary for him to complete the task, then fucking him with an energy that made him feel his advancing kartal escort years, he assumed it was all down to his skill.

– – # – –

Rob was having his second breakfast, croissants, coffee, and Saturday morning newspapers, in the conservatory, Sally talking on the telephone in the kitchen, he wasn’t listening, concentrating on the Rugby news for the upcoming England v’s Wales game.

“More coffee big boy?” Sally asked sidling alongside him, pot in hand.

He folded the newspaper and looked up ready for the next question, he’d normally be left to fend for himself, years of marriage providing all the necessary clues that another question was imminent.

“Yes please.” He said sliding his hand under her robe and fondling her bottom “You’ll catch cold, you should put some knickers on. Where are the kids?”

“Out. One’s fishing and the others doing homework at her girl friends, were supposed to believe that by the way without question. Odds on she’s down the shopping mall trying to fix a date for next weekend.”

“Why, what’s next special about next weekend?”

“Rob, are you being thick? Next weekend is Valentine’s Day, you know the day when you want me to fuck one of your best mates. I tell you something for nothing, if this goes ahead, and it’s a big if, it is going to cost each of you a fortune. A dozen roses won’t even begin to cover the tip. Now stop playing with my bottom before I spill the coffee.

“Rob, come off it. We’ve things to do.”

Rob pulled her onto his lap, she placed the coffee pot on the table before she dropped it and settled herself on his outstretched knees. Watching him critically as he pushed her gown from her shoulders and leaned forward to kiss her neck, fingers lightly touching her breasts. He felt her shiver at his touch, a welcome feeling.

“You always say that.” He mumbled between kisses. “There’s nothing to do. You’ve organised everything, impeccably as usual. Have I ever told you, you’ve got sexy shoulders?”

Sally let him play for a few minutes, enjoying the attention, happy he still found her attractive. She glanced at the clock and tousled his hair signalling enough.

“Come on, straighten my gown. I’ve things to do, even if you haven’t. I said dress me, not undress me. Behave!”

He did her bidding, hauling the gown back onto her shoulders kissing each nipple before he covered them. It’s his one weakness Sally thought. Just occasionally she’d prefer he didn’t listen and just take her, if that’s what he wanted, wasn’t like they were going to be disturbed, he could fuck her right now, spread her across the conservatory table if he set his mind to it. Instead of telling him to get on with fucking her, she hugged him to her and told him she loved him, receiving an affectionate pat on the bottom as she rose and turned away. Rob reached for his newspaper.

“Are you going to the pub with the boys to watch the Rugby?” She asked from the kitchen.

“Yep. Two o’clock, be back about seven. That ok.”

“Yes. June and Avril are coming round.”

He heard that, despite being engrossed in the team news, and waited for more. Nothing. He closed the paper and walked into the kitchen leaning arms folded against the Welsh dresser watching his wife busy herself at the sink. She glanced across her shoulder at him.


“Anything you want to tell me? I presume you were on the phone to June.”

“Nope. And yes.”

“Sal! What are you cooking up? Are you meeting to talk about June’s idea?”

“No. We’re going to do crochet!”

She turned and looked at him, looking faintly ridiculous in the white Terry robe, yellow washing-up gloves, dish cleaner in hand.

“Who do you fancy most June or Avril?”

“Actually you, especially with those gloves on. I’m not answering that.” Rob said.

“Be serious for a moment. If you want to do this alternative Valentine’s Day thing, you’d better tell me which one you fancy.”

“Who do you fancy? Pete or Steve.”

“I’m asking the questions. If I decide to do this, and that’s by no means certain, though I will confess the idea has a certain attraction, as you probably noticed in bed this morning… “

She hesitated while a bulb illuminated in his head.

“…ah, you thought it was your technique, it was that as well, big boy. Anyway, if I decide to do this, I want to know which one of those two you would like to fuck. Go and get dressed and think about it, you look silly standing there with your cock poking through your dressing gown. Which one’s turning you on, I bet it’s Avril.”

She turned back to the sink hearing Rob pad out of the kitchen and spring up the stairs and congratulated herself on sowing the idea of Avril in Rob’s head. She could cope with Avril, voluptuous breasted Avril. She’d caught Rob staring at her breasts many times, they’d be a one night novelty for him. As for June, there was no way June was coming near her man; Sally was terrified they might enjoy it too much. She decided she needed control over the situation, it might be fun; it could cause problems. She thought she better maltepe escort bayan lay down some rules.

Before Rob had been allowed to leave home for the pub, he received precise instructions from Sally as to what he could tell his co-conspirators and what was required from them. She emphasised that her willingness to discuss this ‘project’ was no guarantee that she would be prepared to proceed, that depended upon the boys cooperating and the girls agreeing to her plan.

On no account were the men to discuss which wife they wanted to fuck. She already had a pretty good idea, Rob had already confirmed a preference for Avril and she was pretty certain Steve would want June, that left Sally with Pete, who she would have selected simply because he’d asked her a few years ago if she was interested in something on the side. He’d been pissed at the time, but he’d asked nicely.

“One final thing Rob.” Sally said.

He looked up recognising the tone in her voice; he knew this had been too easy.

“Each of us, the boys and the girls, are to write their sexual fantasy on the sheet of paper, something they’ve not done with their partners and fancy trying. If we’re going to do this, we might as well get something out of it, other than a free fuck.”

Rob winced. Didn’t like the sound of this at all.

“That’s my condition Rob, or the plan’s off.”

“Who’s opening the envelopes? You?”

“Good isn’t. I get to see what each of your sordid little minds has planned.”

“No. I’m not doing that.”

“Yes you are or I’m going to have a ‘headache’ for at least a month. Do it for me Rob, write a note telling me what your secret fantasy is, I’ll promise to act out your fantasy for you, after you’ve practiced on Avril.”

She gave Rob three envelopes and three sheets of paper. The boys were to write the name of the wife they wanted to fuck, and their sexual fantasy, seal the envelope, and return it to Sally via Rob.

Her idea was simply that each boy would not know who would be screwing his wife. She hoped this would stop any feeling of jealousy that might arise.

– – # – –

“You’re fucking joking. They’re at your place planning who gets to fuck who?” Steve blurted.

Rob glanced around to see if Steve’s outburst was attracting unwanted attention.

“Hey Stevie, why not advertise it to the whole pub, I think there are some people in the corner who didn’t hear you.”

The England lost the Rugby 11 – 9 to Wales in a scrappy disappointing game, still, they had other things to think about.

Rob quietly explained Sally’s plan, passing them paper and envelopes. The boy’s admired the simplicity, it wasn’t that they didn’t know who each had a fancy for, but this stopped any awkward glances, they could hide, as it were, inside the envelope.

“She laid down other rules.” Rob said. “Midnight cut off point and return home, no offence lads but she doesn’t fancy facing either of you over breakfast. And for fucks sake – make sure your kids are out of the way.”

“Yeh, I can see how that might be embarrassing, kids coming down and finding Uncle Pete’s joined them for breakfast.” Pete answered with a grin.

“Secondly, we each have to buy, and I quote, ‘extravagant and expensive Valentine’s Day presents to bestowed upon our own wife and the wife we fuck, preferably jewellery and under no circumstances underwear’. She says we can’t even choose underwear properly for them so we’re not buying it for anyone else’s wife. Agreed?”

Rob received nods from the other two.

“We’re not to meet after today or for two weeks afterwards. She doesn’t want us yapping or comparing notes. It leaves us free for the Ireland v’s England Rugby on 27th February.”

“Oh that’s ok, as long as we can meet up for the Rugby.” Steve answered.

Rob looked at Steve, and found himself curiously thinking he hoped Sally would get Pete.

“Right. Nearly the end, not sure you’re going to like this. You’ve to write on that piece of paper your sexual fantasy. Doesn’t mean you’re going to do it, unless the wife in question agrees. The wives will do the same, just so we know what they expect from us.”

“Phew. Hadn’t thought of that. Fuck me.” Pete said.

“Ok. Final condition. This is a strictly ‘one-off’ event, never to be repeated or discussed.”

– – # – –

Sally’s meeting with the girls had gone pretty much to plan. On Tuesday morning, three days before Valentine’s Day she was to be found sat on the sofa in the conservatory with five sealed envelopes in her lap. June had popped round earlier with her own and Avril’s wanting to stay to see what the boys had written. Much to June’s annoyance, Sally refused, wanting to the pleasure of reading the notes by herself.

Sally’s plan was to re-write and re-package an envelope for each of the boy’s. Each would contain a front door key, and a note explaining the sexual fantasy of the wife they would be spending the evening with, providing of course they were reasonable requests and didn’t involve anything too outlandish.

She slit the first envelope open and unfolded escort pendik the page recognising June’s handwriting. She read:

“I want to be a Dominatrix and whip (gently – well fairly gently) my man while he’s hooded. He’ll never know where I am, where I’ll hit him, he’ll be handcuffed to the foot of my bed and had better obey my requests or he’ll be punished harder. I don’t care if I have Rob or Steve, but (sorry Jane) I’d prefer Rob.”

Sally smiled ruefully, ‘might have guessed’, she thought refolding the note then discovering another piece of paper in the envelope. It was addressed to Sally; she read it with shock and surprise, really not at all sure whether it was a joke, or meant in earnest. She’d have to talk with June when this escapade was over.

Avril’s letter started – Dear Rob – causing Sally’s eyebrows to rise and wondering the extent of the truth about the large breasted blonde. ‘You’re not supposed to be picking the man dozy.’ The letter continued with an explanation of how she’d really like to try anal sex but had refused Steve many years before and he’d never mentioned it again. ‘Dumb broad – just ask him!’ Sally said to her self as she re-folded the letter and replaced it.

Pete’s letter next – ‘Dear Sally’ – ‘Why am I not surprised’ Sally asked herself.

‘Dear Sally, I’d like to fuck you long and slow and softly, it will make a change from my usual diet. Pete.’

‘I could use these for blackmail.’ She thought.

‘Right, this is either Steve’s or Rob’s,’ she thought slicing open the letter.

‘I’m going for Jane because I’d like to fuck her up the bum, Av won’t let me do it. Steve.’

“You pair of plonkers,” Sally said out-loud, “talk to each other you nit wits.”

She entirely overlooked that she had failed during eighteen years of marriage to tell Rob her own fantasy, let alone get Rob to tell her his.

The last letter had to be Rob’s, it was addressed to Avril (good), but she knew the words were meant for her. She read the letter with amazement her hand trembling as she digested Rob’s words, so obviously written for her to read, hoisted her skirt and began fingering her pussy through the satin fabric of her knickers, a few strokes, then dipping inside, laying back, splaying her legs to give her access, slipping her hand under the waist band and immediately thrusting two fingers inside herself, enjoying the almost brutal way she masturbated, quite different from the way Rob brought her off. She came quite quickly, just the thought of Rob wanting to do that to her was almost enough. ‘You darling, darling boy’, she thought.

Sally went to the bathroom and cleaned herself up, washed her hands, dropped her stained knickers and skirt in the dirty bin, pulled on a pair of slacks and went back down stairs. She did all this with a silly grin on her face wondering what she was going to do to keep occupied between now and Valentine’s Day, the excitement was getting to her.

Down stairs, she wrote instructions for each of the other five and sat staring at a blank sheet of paper wondering what she should write for her own fantasy. Finally resolved, she put pen to paper.

– – # – –

The three couples met for an early supper at an Italian restaurant festooned with Valentine hearts, cupid decorations and pink ribbons. It was one of several restaurants they used, Sally decided Italian preferable to Indian, given what was planned.

The girls decided it would be better to eat together as a group. The plan was an early supper, then the girls to leave to go home and get ready. They agreed it would be better for the men to arrive at their partner-for-the-evenings home, rather than drive off together as couples. It would be more exciting for everyone.

Sally had instructed Rob to make sure every ones wine glasses were kept topped up just in case someone needed ‘Dutch courage’. She sat sporting a beautiful white gold multi-stranded necklace she’d unwrapped over breakfast, looking radiant, composed, trembling inside. Pete had brought roses for all of the girls and made a great show of kissing her hand, looking longingly into her eyes still not sure if he would be with Sally, or Avril.

She was rather annoyed with Rob who seemed confidently intent on Avril’s breasts bulging ominously from her strapless dress. ‘Ok, just this once’, she thought, ‘but you’re not making a habit of it.’

At half past seven the girls stood to leave, she handed sealed envelopes to the three men and then told them to leave as soon as the girls had cleared the car park, she didn’t want them sitting around looking at each other; they were not to arrive at the address in the envelope for fifteen minutes. She told them firmly they were not to open the envelopes in the company of the others. Outside she handed envelopes to June and Avril.

“Read them when you get home,” she said, “you’ll find them useful.”

– – # – –

Rob drove around for a few minutes, making sure he didn’t go any where near his own house, then pulled over to read the contents of the envelope. He was to go to Avril’s house, he read the description of Avril’s sexual fantasy and told himself he could do that. It was almost anti-climatic, he tried not to think of Sally being with Pete, and especially not Steve, and thought instead of Avril’s plump white breasts and whether she’d mind if he squeezed them.

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