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Archive name: husband5.txt (Mdom/FM, swingers)
Authors name: Alcibade (Address Defunct)
Story title : Husband - Part 5

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-= This work is copyrighted to the author © 1995. =-
Please do not remove the author information or make
any changes to this story. You may post freely to non-
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HUSBAND (Part 5)
By Alcibade

**

Day 2: Monday

2:00 p.m. luxuriating in lilac-scented bubble bath and 
hot water, I closed my eyes. The house was quiet now. 
Peter was sleeping in the guest-room and Charles was 
doing some kind of strange exercises on the lawn behind 
our house. I had slept until around 1:00 and, on 
waking, found Charles no longer beside me. He and Peter 
had been in the kitchen when I came downstairs, eating 
a breakfast of honeydew melon and croissants. I had 
joined them:

Peter, stark naked, and Charles, in one of Peter's 
robes, reading the morning paper. I could tell that 
Peter had not slept well; his eyes were red and baggy.

Putting the paper down, and pushing his half-eaten 
melon away from him, Charles spoke.

"Good morning, Linda. Have a seat and join us. I was 
just telling Peter about all the wonderful, naughty 
things you and I did last night in his bed. Hope you 
get a chance to change the sheets today. My god, what a 
mess!" he said, winking at Peter.

"Anyway, while you two slept the morning away, I called 
a dear old friend to whom I owe a favor and, surprise!, 
we've all been invited to a little private party. I'm 
sure you'll both find his hospitality stimulating and 
very refined. Peter, I'm assuming you own a tux?"

"Yes. But I haven't worn it in a year or so," Peter had 
said.

"Well, make sure the moths haven't had a feast, then go 
get some rest. You look like you're half dead. It might 
be another long night for the two of you. Linda, dear, 
you certainly will need a bit more rest. I'd like you 
to wear something formal tonight, but sexy, too. Wear 
some nice, skimpy panties, and thigh-high nylons under 
a sexy dress for us. Don't worry about a bra."

"Yes," he had continued, leaning back in his chair, 
"tonight we're going to explore the world of the 
bourgeoisie. You know, I just love that song Liza 
Minelli and Joel Grey sing in Cabaret: 'Money makes the 
world go around!' We'll save a taste of the proletariat 
for a little later in the week. It'll be a nice 
contrast of mores for all of us and excellent field 
research. We're leaving around six, so make sure you're 
ready by then. You two kids run along now and get some 
rest."

**

As I lay in the tub, gently rubbing my sore ass and 
cunt with a soft sponge, I replayed Sunday night's 
events in my mind:

Peter, on his hands and knees, being fucked in the ass 
as I knelt in front of him and kissed him (at one 
point, Charles had had Peter draw his legs up under 
him, then spread his knees, flattening him against the 
bed like a frog, as he fucked him); Charles making me 
squat with my back to the wall and Peter leaning over 
me, his hands against the wall above me and his legs 
spread, Charles behind him, fucking him again up the 
ass while I fellated my husband (running my fingers up 
between the two men as I sucked Peter, to feel Charles' 
cock pump into him, was so incredibly erotic I'll never 
forget it).

After our little bedroom tryst, we had all showered 
together. Peter had soaped and cleaned Charles and me 
before he was allowed to wash himself. Charles sent 
Peter off to bed in the guest room just down the hall 
from the master bedroom with instructions to leave both 
his door and ours open. We then spent the next few 
hours in a marathon fucking session in Peter's and my 
bed. His stamina was incredible. I'm sure my poor 
husband got an earful of the moans, groans, squeals, 
wet slapping skin and squeaking bedsprings into the wee 
hours of the morning.

**

I got out of the tub, dried myself, then went into the 
bedroom. After changing the sheets, I set the alarm for 
5 p.m., and settled down to get some much needed rest. 
The new sheets were cool and soft against my skin. As I 
drifted off, I remembered something Charles had 
whispered in my ear as he was plowing into my upturned 
bottom last night:

"Soon, very soon, you will prostitute yourself to 
others of my choosing; no matter how undesirable, how 
unattractive, or even how revolting you may find them, 
or the things they require you to do, do not forget 
that they will only be an extension of me and of my 
power. You will yield, Linda, and yield with 
enthusiasm. In this way you will become an instrument 
in your own debasement and humiliation, thus also 
becoming that much more beautiful and erotic to me and 
to your husband..."

**

5:45 p.m. Wearing a simple black dress with a pleated 
skirt, semi-sheer black nylons and black pumps, I came 
down the steps and walked into the living room. Charles 
was standing next to the picture-window, wearing a 
white linen suit and holding a brown paper bag. Peter 
sat at the couch in his black tux, sipping an early 
brandy.

"Wow! Bravo! You look ravishing, Linda! Turn around for 
us!" Charles gushed. Blushing, I twirled once and 
struck a pose with my hands on my hips. "Simply 
smashing! Now show us what's hiding under that sexy 
dress, and don't be bashful; this is practically a 
three-way marriage now, you know!"

I lifted the hem of my skirt to my waist, revealing the 
white silk panties I wore. Despite every attempt to 
avoid it, I felt my cheeks redden even more.

"Dear god, an angel on the face of the earth! Now come 
over here to me, pretty thing."

As I walked to Charles, Peter's eyes met mine. They 
were soft and loving and a faint smile curled at the 
corner of his lips.

Charles reached his left hand out and placed it on my 
cheek, then pressed his thumb against my lips and 
entered my mouth with it. He turned my face first to 
the left and then to the right, looking me over. As he 
withdrew his hand, I noticed smudges of my red lipstick 
on the base of his thumb.

"It's time we were on our way. I absolutely hate being 
late: it's boorish and discourteous. Peter, I'd like 
you to drive. Before we go, however, Linda needs help 
with a final little detail to her wardrobe. Come over 
here, Peter." Charles took hold of my shoulders and 
spun me around toward Peter, who had risen from the 
couch, then bent me slightly forward from the waist. 
"Hold your wife's shoulders for me please." Peter held 
my shoulders, and I felt Charles lift my dress up from 
the back and lower my panties just to the bottom of my 
ass. I heard a rustling noise as he opened the brown 
bag he carried.

"This will hurt a little bit, Linda. Don't worry, 
you'll get used to it and, when all is said and done, 
considering what is likely to happen this evening, 
you'll be grateful for this preparation." As he spoke, 
I felt something cool and wet being applied to my anus. 
"Relax now, dear. Don't fight it." Something new -dull, 
large and rounded- pushed against my bottom. I shook my 
head: it was impossibly large! I started to move my 
hips away in protest, instinctively.

"Hold her, Peter. Linda, I expect you to behave, 
darling."

"No," I started to babble, "I really don't think... 
please, it's too large, Charles... I can't, honestly, 
I'm too sore there..."

Up it came into my poor, swollen, red, over-used, 
little ass-hole. Okay, okay, okay... I can take it... I 
squeezed my eyes tight and gripped Peter's arms.

I opened my eyes, finally, and looked down between my 
legs. I saw Charles pulling two small chains from the 
base of the huge dildo up through my crotch, on either 
side of my vulva, to the front. He pulled a third chain 
up the crack of my ass from behind and attached the two 
front links over my hips to the third one behind. The 
giant phallus thus secured, he pulled my panties back 
up and lowered my skirt.

"See, not so bad after all. You may thank me now, 
Linda."

"Thank-you, Charles," I said. I had no idea how I was 
going to even attempt walking with this thing in me, 
let alone wearing my high-heels...

"You're welcome. That reminds me. Peter, you've never 
expressed your gratitude by properly thanking me for 
fucking your wife and you in the ass. I'm sure it was 
an oversight on your part; you're such a courteous 
person."

Peter looked down at his feet.

"Thank you for fucking my wife and me in the ass, 
Charles."

"You're welcome, Peter. It was nothing. Gee, now you've 
embarrassed me!" Charles said.

"Anyway, Linda, as I was saying, human beings are 
resilient enough to adjust to just about anything; 
you'll hardly know it's there in an hour or so. Now 
stand up straight, my dear, and quit slouching. It's 
time to go to the party!"

**

Peter drove and Charles and I sat in the back seat. We 
headed west, out of town. I kept trying to adjust 
myself so I sat on either my right or left buttock, 
thus avoiding sitting directly on the shaft impaling my 
bottom, but without appearing too obvious about it. 
Somehow, I wanted to completely conceal the discomfort 
from Charles. The impulse, created by the inserted 
dildo, was to spread my legs and slide down on the 
seat, unladylike. So I fought it and deliberately did 
the opposite, crossing my legs demurely.

Charles rode quietly, apparently absorbed in thought. 
His hands were folded in his lap as if in prayer. I 
observed him closely for a bit and noticed that it was 
impossible to discern if he was even breathing. His 
chest did not observably rise or expand. His eyes were 
open, staring out the window at the passing landscape, 
but never focusing on anything. Very strange; a form of 
meditation, perhaps? Occasionally, I would catch Peter 
glancing back at us through the rear-view mirror. After 
about 20 minutes, we came to a stop-sign at a 
crossroad.

"Keep going. There will be a small paved road on your 
right about a half a mile from here. Turn onto it," 
Charles said slowly to Peter.

We came to the road and Peter turned. A sign indicated 
it was a private drive. It wound through a stand of old 
oak trees intermingled, to weird effect, with hemlocks.

Rounding a bend in the road, a huge house appeared. At 
least three stories high, there were towering spires on 
both ends. While the style reminded me of a Victorian 
mansion, there was an oriental flavor that I could not 
quite place. I am not very knowledgeable about real 
estate, but I would place this property easily in the 
seven figure range.

There were four or five other cars parked near the 
entrance; a BMW, two Mercedes and a Porsche. Peter 
parked and we all got out (that damn dildo still 
wreaking havoc with my ass).

Charles pressed the doorbell and we waited, Peter and I 
quite nervously. After a moment, the door opened and a 
small Japanese woman, maybe 45 or 50, peered through 
the crack. She looked at Peter and me, then noticed 
Charles. A big smile appeared, and she opened the door 
wide. She wore a simple red dress, conservatively cut. 
Bowing deeply to Charles, she said something in 
Japanese. Charles also bowed, not quite so deeply, and 
returned a comment, also in Japanese.

"Please come in," she said, with only a slight accent.

The interior was gorgeous; high ceilings, obviously 
expensive artwork that was extremely heterogeneous in 
taste, ranging from classical to romantic to modern, 
plush and deeply colored oriental rugs over absolutely 
immaculate hardwood floors, and tastefully placed 
indirect lighting.

She led us into a large room lined with books and 
furnished with large, leather upholstered furniture. 
Besides Peter, Charles, myself and our lady-host, there 
were four men, a boy, and another female in the room. 
The men quickly stood, all in formal attire, including 
the boy. All were Japanese except the other woman, a 
tall, leggy, very pretty blonde.

What appeared to be the oldest man walked toward us 
with a big grin. He was not too tall, but was thick in 
girth (not fat; massive I would say); his hair was 
silver and the crowfeet at the edges of his eyes gave 
his face a careworn appearance. For all his mass, he 
seemed to float, not walk, across the room.

Peter bowed as he approached, and said something deep 
and explosive, that sounded like "Osu!" The man 
returned the bow and, this time, I noticed it was not 
quite as deep as Peter's bow. They shook hands briefly 
and he turned to us.

"This is Peter, and this is Linda, his wife," Charles 
said to the man. Then to us: "Peter, Linda, please meet 
Akira Koshiwara Sensei, my teacher and friend."

"Sensei" took my hand and bowed deeply, his eyes 
sparkling and clear.

"It is a very great honor to meet you both, Linda and 
Peter. I hope that my humble home and hospitality will 
not displease you," Sensei said. His English had a 
tinge of Oxford, rather than standard "American."

Charles leaned close to Sensei and whispered something 
in his ear. There was an uncomfortable silence as Peter 
and I waited, the others in the room also silent and 
unmoving.

A little smile came to Sensei's lips, and his eyes 
locked onto mine as Charles pulled away, also with a 
grin. I could feel my cheeks begin to redden again and, 
for the first time in several minutes, began to notice 
the dildo...

"Please forgive Charles' poor manners. It is 
unconscionably impolite to whisper about someone in 
their presence, as he has. A teacher is only as good as 
the desire of his pupils to learn, and Charles has 
always been a problem student," he said, grinning even 
wider and putting his arm around Charles' shoulder.

"My wife, whom you have met, would be honored to bring 
you a drink if you like," Sensei continued. "Dinner 
will be served in a little while. I hope you have an 
appetite. Please, come in, and let me introduce you to 
my other dear friends."

Continued in Part 6...

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It's okay to *READ* stories about unprotected sex with
others outside a monogamous relationship. But it isn't
okay to *HAVE* unprotected sex with people other than
a trusted partner. You only have one body per lifetime,
so take good care of it!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Kristen's collection - Directory 13