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K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
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Fucking My Wife For The Crowds
by Pace (address withheld)
***
Pace was obsessed with performing sex with his wife
before groups of men. She was very pretty, gullible,
and very much his junior. The period of intense sex
performance he wrote about extended from 1967 to 1972.
But he covered everything leading up to it and beyond.
(M+/F, public-exh, intr, oral, anal, gb, orgy)
***
Author's Note: This is correspondence with a man who
used the pseudonym Pace. He wrote me from about 1979
till 1987, because I answered an ad in a swinger's
magazine. I never met him. I have no idea what has
happened to him since 1987. He was born in the late
1920's and felt he might have a heart condition. He may
have died suddenly, because the correspondence
unaccountably went blank in mid-stream. Or he could be
alive.
Chapter 1: My Baby and Me
-------------------------
This is a bunch of stories about me, a guy who fucked
his wife for show in front of guys. I'll call them
stories, but I'll never publish them as real stories.
They're only for a very a special public, written by a
guy who's not a "writer". There's stuff here I'd like
to share with a very unusual, a very small, a very
special audience. Guys who are older, like I am. Guys
who were raised in more conventional, much more
inhibited times in the past, when women were "nice".
Most especially, I think this stuff would "get" to a
certain kind of guy, get to him in the guts; someone
like me, with an exhibitionist screw loose in his head.
I've got this funny, uncomfortable, weird and freaky
"thing" in my head. I'd like to know that I'm talking
to guys who understand this. You want to know what it
feels like, fucking your wife in front of a crowd. It
sends the blood racing through you. Your heart beat is
unbearable, like in a marathon, the excitement comes
and hits you, wham! wham!
There is nothing like that excitement. It's like you're
going to have a heart attack. I'll tell you, I get it
at just the thought, just the image, of fucking my wife
in front of a group of other guys, before I'd even get
her stripped to fuck her. If this is the kind of thing
that would turn you on, if you've ever fantasized about
doing it, but have been too chicken to do it, the way I
once was, then these stories, these "stories" are for
you.
In my heart I'd really like my stuff to be read by guys
who watched me, who were audiences at our stag shows.
But I don't know how that could ever be. I don't know
how this could ever get into their hands. If it did,
this is the way I'd like to talk to them. This is what
I'd like to say to them. I'd like those guys to see how
I manipulated that little ninny, my little Irish wife,
literally, the little fuckhead, the mother of my kids,
into spreading out her Mommy cunt so they could look
right up into her excited pussy hole. And you bet she
got excited when she did that. We couldn't have done
what we did if she wasn't getting something out if it,
too, it if she wasn't excited.
And all of those guys who saw us would know I was doing
it before the swinging Seventies, back in the Sixties.
That's right. When I could have gotten our fucking
asses in the klink for doing something like that, or
even a hell of a lot worse. If my audience was reading
this now they would remember what it was like, when
they were at my stags. I never got to talk to them like
a real person, one to one, we always talked about the
stag show, itself, arrangements, bullshit trivia, I
never got to meet them, personally.
After all, I was this kook who was letting them fuck my
wife. I was too strange for any of those guys to look
me in the face, most of the time. It was really rare
anybody ever gave me eye contact. And if they did look
me in the eye, they couldn't hide their contempt for
me, they had this shit-eating grin, this smirk on their
lips. Even though they talked to me, and gave me "lip
service" about what a great guy I was, you know,
letting them fuck my wife, or sucking them off, that
ain't what they were thinking. No siree! They thought I
was the biggest asshole ever born. It was a real
charade.
Hey, guys, those were uptight times, when flower
children were tip-toeing through the tulips with Tiny
Tim, and Vietnam was heating up. Didn't it break you
up, when I let you look at family album photos? When I
sat there in your Club room running our home movies,
just before you were going to fuck my wife? Most of you
knew we were for real, we couldn't fake those movies
and those photos, if you had any brains.
Some of you guys wouldn't believe it. My wife had to be
a hooker. Those guys thought it was all a hype, it was
all a con job. I even showed our personal wedding
photos, photos from our shotgun wedding. That wedding
was real; I'd knocked up my little 17 year old pussy,
Eileen. It was a small wedding. And there was my sweet
ninny of a child bride, a young sweet thing who cooed
like a bird, with her lilting Irish brogue. And her
mother. Side by side. In the photos. Some wedding, a 32
year old guy with a pregnant 17 year old. It was
screwy, wasn't it??
You've got to remember watching my wife's open pussy in
action in your Clubs, all those function halls, locker
rooms, hotel rooms, hey, I even fucked my baby and
invited a gang bang in a machine shop. A bowling alley.
All kinds of places. Freaky, wasn't it, showing all
those home movie shots, right? And then Eileen sucking
cock, mine and yours.
How about all that other impossible stuff I had the
sweet innocent do, you know, in the later years, with
black stag performers and me. The looks on your faces!
You couldn't have forgotten us. I know I'll never
forget the noise, the whooping and hollering, just the
astonished shock, the unbelieving looks on your pusses.
What a kick that gave me.
You knew, for sure, most of you who wanted to believe
it, that we were for real. We were what we said we
were; married, and in love. Really in love. You could
see it in the looks on our faces when I was fucking
her. I was grinning at her, leering at her, kissing her
lips, her ear lobes, her neck, her eyes. You don't see
professionals do that. They stick to cock and pussy.
Just fuck the hole, or fuck the mouth. That's what's
important when there is no love. You knew we had kids,
and lived normal lives, except for my "kink", my bent.
Wasn't it wild, seeing my wife and me take our marital
bed right out there out in public, in front of your
staring eyes?
I remember. Do you? You saw the little girl suck my
cock off, and in amazement, your jaws hanging down,
watched the totally innocent-looking mother sucking out
the scum from cock after cock of your buddies. And
grinning at her husband. And her husband grinning at
her. If you were lucky enough or nervy enough, you even
got a chance to get your own tool sucked off, or slip
your dick into that awfully pretty, innocent looking
young wife's Mommy hole. I've heard you guys wondering
aloud, about us. I heard enough of you muttering. Well,
I wish that you had this story so you could get part of
your answer.
Well that's what I would have said to my stag
audiences, if I could have gotten this story into their
hands. But for the rest of you, you would know exactly
what I'm talking about if you'd lived through the
forties, or were a young adult during the fifties and
the sixties, times when sex was so intense, so
forbidden, pre-X-rated times, when you were lucky to
see one open snatch, in your entire lifetime. Anybody
who grew up then knew what it was like to live in up-
tight times.
Chapter 2: Me and My Princess
-----------------------------
To make it even wilder, I'm an Italian. An "older"
Italian. I was born in 1927. You know how jealous
Italians are supposed to be about their wives?
Especially someone like me, a "paisano" who lucked out.
Against all odds I was hooked up with a sweet honey of
an Irish wife. I was told it often enough. How my
Eileen was pretty enough to be a movie star. That's how
I felt about her, too. But to me Eileen was more like
an English Princess.
She came on with this stimulating half-English, half-
Irish accent, but definitely a lilting brogue. I was
the luckiest guy in the world. How would you like to
find yourself like me, "into" a cunt 15 years younger,
with a license to fuck her all you want? Just looking
at Eileen, I swear, I fucked my giggling bride every
chance I got.
And I wanted a lot of kinky sex out of her, so I
stalked her like a cat. Gradually, slowly, slowly, I
trained the girl. I trained her being real sneaky about
it, into doing more and more perverted things for me.
I'll tell you how much that innocent "look" on her face
turned me on. It was unbelievable, whenever I could,
I'd jump her; I'd have my sweet Princess down on her
knees, at my crotch, gulping my hog, or flat on her
back, getting her hairy drippy red split pounded.
While Eileen giggled her fucking head off. Always
amazed at how "gruff" I was. Her words. I couldn't stop
it. Every time I looked at that cunt, I wanted to fuck
her. It never went away. I'd literally look at my
wife's face, sometimes, and get a hard-on. I'd fuck the
piss out of the girl, literally, she'd always be
running to pee after I fucked her, that hard, four
times a day, or whenever I could.
Call me a wop or a guinea and I'd probably "break your
face". Probably not, if you were too big. Hey, I'm no
hero. But how else can I say it? Could an ugly-looking
"guinea" like me ask for a sex life more exciting than
that? I'm fucking a girl most people thought wouldn't
even talk to me. So you'd think I'd died and landed in
heaven, right? That was so much to have, who could ask
for anything more? It's true. I did land in heaven.
So it's natural to ask the next question; what's this
fucking pervert doing, here he is with the fuck of his
dreams, and what's he doing? Dreaming of fucking his
sweet little wife in front of a gang of guys. Now
you've got to understand, this was way back in the
sexual dark ages, like in the early '60s. Kennedy was
still King. That was Camelot, and Father Knows Best on
TV. And there I am, this nut, plotting and scheming,
all I could think of was fucking my sweet Irish bride
in front of a gang of guys.
What was bugging me? Where did this screwball
"bugginess" come from? The whole story, in fact all
these stories are just about that. I'll show you how
Eileen and I, both of us, were sort of "set up" to go
the way we did. We were both like loaded guns. All we
needed was the right trigger pull to come along and
start us down that path. We didn't know it, at the
time, that we were going to act anything out.
We both thought we were "normal", whatever that means.
Or at least Eileen did. With my screwy sexual
background I knew I was a sex addict. And that
addiction kept pumping me up with fantasies, I would
look at every woman and undress her and fuck her. Until
Eileen. When I didn't have to look. I could do it. I
could fuck that dumb cunt over and over and over again.
And she liked it! And let me do it!
Chapter 3: My Wife Gets Propositioned
-------------------------------------
Anyway, there was this "incident", and that was our
trigger. Made us go Bang! And Bang and Bang, again and
again, over and over. I'll talk more about it, later.
For now I'll just tell you that the "incident" took
place after my little girl had our first baby. Sometime
after that.
I was the proud middle-thirties father of his first
boy. Eileen was a dumb, gullible 19 year old ninny. And
fresh from being made a Mommy. Going to Boston
University's School of Nursing, to do her part in
supporting our family. But in white bobby sox and plaid
skirts, with school stories under her arms, Eileen
looked more like a high school freshman than a married
lady when she commuted to college classes. The Mommy-
coed.
Well, it all happened when my wife took a ride in a
car, she got a lift (I'll say!). The MTA trolley line
(not MBTA, back then) right in front of our house on
Commonwealth Avenue in Allston, a part of Boston, ran
straight down to Boston University. It was out of
action, as it often was.
When that happened students hitchhiked. Eileen had done
it often. I never knew. If I had, I'd have had a fit. A
lot of students did it. Not girls, though. The guy who
gave Eileen a "lift" this time was another guinea. He
was a guy like me, a guy with just as dirty a mind as
Eileen's "old man". Anyway my stupid little pussy got
propositioned.
This pastafazool spotted her and psyched her out just
right; he handed that gullible lolly pop of mine a
bullshit line, offering to pay her an incredible hourly
fee for having sex in front of his camera for some
"medical photos". With her husband, "of course". My
trusting fool confessed, beforehand, that we were just
about stone broke. And didn't he "leap into that
breach". Yeah, and likely to leap into her breach, if
she didn't watch her dumb fool ass. My dumb cunt!
Get that! Medical photos! Some sh-ee-ee-t! But this is
it! This is the kicker! My dumb cunt of a wife was
eager to "go for it"! Fucking surprise. Fucking wild!
Just ask me. Would I have predicted it? No fucking way
in hell. I just didn't know how to handle the
situation. I was too chicken and scared, wanting like
crazy to do it, excited totally out of my skull, but
scared, scared of cops, of Mafia, of God knew who this
guy was. Eileen had me shaking with excitement, pumped
full of adrenalin, when she came back to the house with
the offer. It made me dizzy. Really!
Frankly, I dropped the ball. And did I live to regret
that! Sure I did! Stupido! That crazy proposition
planted the nutty idea, and I couldn't shake it. My
amazement was that my silly goose of a beautiful wife
was actually willing to pose for those photos. At 19!
From a straight nice little Irish Catholic background.
She would do it! That silly little cunt would actually
do it!
Well it took almost five years, five fucking years
after the "proposition" to pull off the real McCoy, but
this wasn't posing for animal crackers. Not by then.
No, boy. Things had really moved along in our sex life.
When my wife got propositioned, back in '61, there was
no way you could have convinced me that, in a short
five years after, when she'd gotten her nursing degree
and was a practicing nurse, the sweet thing would end
up the solo performer at her first, and what I thought
would be her only, real stag show. A stag party, a gang
fuck. Yup, a gang fuck. You got it, baby. A pile on.
The two of us dancing, still dressed, alone on a small
wooden dance floor, under lights, packed with close-in,
steamed up, teased up, panting guys, surrounded by a
wall of watchers, their tongues hanging down to the
floor. Waiting.
Chapter 4: What Happened to Amateurs
------------------------------------
I was nutty! Crazy! You know what we were facing, my
Eileen and me, with that nutty obsession? In some
States, just because we were amateurs. We were not like
the regular whores and pimps who did stags,
professionals who paid off the cops, or who let the
stag performer fuck the cops as a "gratuity", if the
cops wanted it. Amateurs like us could've spent months,
or even possibly more of our lives in jail, if we'd
been caught. That is, if we'd been lucky.
Yeah, a jail sentence would have been lucky, in
Massachusetts, compared to the alternative. Well, if a
pro was going to get off the hook by sucking off a
bunch of cops, how about your wife? What the hell,
she'd fucked a crowd at a stag performance, hadn't she?
Well, you became a free fuck station for every cop who
wanted a quick fuck and blow job after you'd been
nailed. Till a couple finally got the point and moved
out of State.
I don't have the facts, but have to confess that I
never read of one amateur stag performer who was busted
in a raid for having sex at a bachelor party in
Massachusetts being brought to trial. Unusual? Why? Was
Massachusetts a tolerant State? Hell, no! Not with the
Catholic hierarchy and Protestant blue-noses rampant.
No way, Jose, was Massachusetts lenient. I'll give you
the whole story in other chapters in these stories, but
even now, I can fill you in on what happened to unlucky
amateur fuckers in Massachusetts that will blow your
socks off. No shit, for real. It certainly sounds
strange enough to be unreal.
Back in those days, as I said, it was the rarest of
rare things that amateurs fucked in stag shows. Some of
the few were caught. Off and on. By accident. Maybe you
could get away with doing one stag, once, for kicks,
anonymously, and never go for seconds. There'd be no
cops setting up to raid you, that way, on your second
try. But if a couple did more than one stag show, they
were certainly taking a chance of being caught. They
were. It happened.
There were very, very infrequently these little bitty
squibs, short articles, maybe a couple of column-inches
long, in the Boston American, or the Boston Record,
whatever its predecessor was, a Hearst tabloid, about
stag party busts. Maybe once or twice a year. Or more.
At the time we had this anti-porno happy Sergeant in
the State Police who made a big deal about busting stag
shows. He was a real bugger about dirty pictures.
But what never hit the papers was news about what
happened to these couples after arrest, their cases
seemed to disappear from public view. That was strange.
Because, if you ever looked at the Boston rags after
arrests, you never saw news about prosecutions, only
arrests. Now why do you suppose that would have been?
Well, just think about it for a second. Would the
"public" care about some couple stupid enough to get
caught fucking for a bachelor party, anyway, except for
the reporters who could generate a momentary
titillating thrill for their readers, exposing
somebody's perversity? Was that really a threat to
public safety? Nobody really cared if the couple got
jailed, or got off. It was all just a high-spirited
dirty joke, after all, some couple out for a "kick".
Hey there was a real problem with real prostitutes, and
racial troubles, and the Vietnam War. So some dumb
fucks were fucking in a Vet's Club, who cared, good
luck to them! Lucky Vets!
So, with that situation, put yourself in a vice cop's
place. A corrupt, horny vice cop. As a cop, you're
never supposed to fuck the hookers, right? It's part of
the "code", right? If you did you would be risking your
ass, getting canned. But everybody else was getting
ass. Always a bridesmaid, never a bride. And, besides
who would have wanted to fuck some toilet of a whore,
anyway? Now, you got this bust of an ordinary married
couple.
As a cop, could you imagine a better edge you could
have on a really "clean" couple, a couple that had been
caught fucking in public, than the fact you could send
them to the klink?. What the fuck was the point of
that? Sending them off to jail? Some asshole had gotten
his even bigger asshole of a wife to fuck and suck a
bunch of guys. Made her into a fucking whore. Right?
This prick obviously didn't give a shit who his wife
fucked. Why not you? Hey, a free piece of ass. A golden
opportunity.
These two dumb fucks didn't want to go to jail. Hey, if
you, a cop, just wanted them to do the same thing for
you, just once, since they'd already fucked their heads
off for a bunch of civilians, what couple in their
right minds wouldn't fuck the cop and his buddies, just
have the wife suck off a few more dicks, and the cops
would let them off scot free. The little lady had
already sucked cock, so what was new? "Just let your
wife suck my dick a little like she did at the party,
buddy. No skin off your teeth."
Quite a con? You could see that happening, couldn't
you?. It did. It was standard procedure. If that was
all, well, what the hell! The couple wouldn't do stags
anymore, that was for sure. What harm in it. the cop
got a little free piece of ass. This fucking asshole of
a husband was making his wife's pussy into a urinal,
anyway. Could have been just another cock blown off at
the party. One cock more or less, and the joke is ended
right there.
If that had been all there was to it, it would have
been a minor corrupt end to something the cops should
never have been involved in, in the first place. I
admit it is hearsay, but there were supposed to have
been instances of sexual enslavement or harassment of
wives, and even more perverse, of families of amateur
couples down in Massachusetts, which didn't just end
that way. There's no way the news of these events could
have ever broken out into the public. It was a system
that was guaranteed to get some unfortunate victims of
police sexual blackmail stuck into a horror that broke
their lives.
There was nobody to complain to about what they'd been
subjected to. Just think about it. After a couple was
raided at a stag show, or worse, entrapped into giving
a stag show by the cops themselves, what could they do
to get out of what followed. Nothing. Just look at the
judgment that would have been on them. After all,
they'd done a stag show willingly, hadn't they. I'd
heard, from someone who'd lived it, that couples were
not just let go after sucking off a few cop's cocks. It
was like being caught by a loan shark. You never get
out from under.
And it was done in a real insidious way. The way cops
use "good cop, bad cop" routines on criminals. There
was always some cop, apparently with sincerity,
"playing" good cop. What does a "caught couple" do when
some fake sympathy is offered to them after being
caught "wide open" by the cops? Isn't a shocked and
totally shamed arrested couple relieved and grateful
when they meet some "kind-hearted" cops who seem to
understand the couple's freakiness in the exhibitionism
department? Kind-hearted like a crocodile. That was the
hook and the bait used to catch these poor fish.
The opener was to have the wife or woman suck off one
cop's dick. And then, after a "social" visit, repeat
the same ext. Then the stakes were escalated. Since the
unfortunate couple had already been "caught in the act"
of giving a sex show, or the woman, girl-friend or wife
had already fucked a number of guys at a stag show,
what was one more sex show, more or less, or one more
dick in the lady's hole, more or less, between
"friends", especially of the "friends" could see to it
that the charges could be swept under the rug, in
exchange for a "favor"? Get the picture?
These cops used that bait to suck in such couples
further, so they couldn't back out anymore, they would
escalate the level of involvement, get the couple
deeper into performing perverted sex acts. Before
Eileen and I ever got into doing stags I learned
details and more details about it from one couple we
were involved with personally, and closely (boy, will
you see how close!). It taught me a lot about how to
run my own similar sex obsession in the following
years, and how to be clear of problems when I started
playing out my own nuttiness.
I should drop the subject, because these were only a
few rotten apples, of all the vice cops, a little band
of vice cops, Staties and locals. But some cops bragged
to victims, to degrade them even more, to let them know
where they stood, to terrorize them about the power
these cops had over them. I'd heard horror tales about
what they were eventually forcing the couples to do to
avoid prosecution, as they got them further down the
betrayal path. Things like forced family sex.
The thing is you could never prove any of this, or
bring cops to justice. I'll give a recent example.
There was a protest, based on a complaint of a woman,
not a prostitute, but an ordinary woman dated a cop,
who claimed she's been gang raped. the case was never
prosecuted. It did result in the closing of so-called
Private Clubs maintained by Boston cops, sometime
around 1987. There was a quickly quashed scandal about
a small number of cops maintaining these Private Clubs
where other women besides this complainant had been
brought in and forced, many times, to have sex with
officers.
That's in these times. Now think back to way back then.
If a couple had opened their sexual bed to mass
penetration at a stag show, from a cop's sexually
bigoted point of view, the woman was a common ordinary
slut. That was 30 years ago. Probably those fucking
cops are still alive, having ruined these folks' lives.
So you should have an idea of the kind of legal
environment, the policing and emotional setting in
which my wife and I operated, if you didn't actually
live through it.
Chapter 5: Eileen and Our Stag Party Routines
---------------------------------------------
Now for some realistic background on Eileen. My wife
performed her first, and what I expected to be her only
stag party at a packed veteran's club in 1966 when she
was only 24. And the mother of two little kids. I
looked old enough to be her fucking father, at 39. Fat
and hairy and balding. Pretty little Eileen didn't even
look old enough to have two kids. She looked like a
fucking bobby-soxer, a high school girl, or a college
freshman cheerleader. We were totally off the wall, as
far as any stag audience was concerned.
At the time Eileen was spreading her pussy so guys
could get a look up her hole, that same pussy had given
birth to two small kids, our 6 year old boy and our
pretty 4 1/2 year old daughter (not mine, actually, as
I later found out). I wanted to have that scene happen
once in my life, to see it for real, and I couldn't
stop pinching myself, I'd actually pulled it off.
Crazzy me!
Whores did stag shows. Doped up, crazy "nymphos",
hopped up, anything goes soon-to-die, who-gives-a-shit
nymphos did stag shows. A married straight suburban
housewife, with kids? Nobody, but no married woman
ever, ever, ever did that, as far as these Clubs were
concerned. Well, they didn't know everything, there
were a few others. But nothing, virtually nothing
compared to the regular stag show activity.
This is a knowledgeable guess, based on my own personal
solicitations of Clubs, practically all of which I
turned down as being too raunchy or wrong for what
Eileen and I wanted. Just some statistical estimates.
Averaged out over all the year, there are maybe 150
marriages a week in Massachusetts. Stag bachelor
parties back then, in the sixties, were held most often
by industrial workers, a lot of second-generation
Italians or even more working class Irish. The only
others who would have bachelor parties were the scum of
the colleges, the drunken fraternities, and they
usually had a party using a more feeble-minded or
compliant girl-friend of one of the members.
So the occasional lowlifes in the general population
would have a stag party. That would be the smallest
percent of all the couples, not the average middle
class church-goers, because the general run of the
populations are too straight, or it doesn't go with
their lifestyle in this religious uptight conservative
New England. But concentrating on Massachusetts alone
I'd guess, even back then, for bachelor parties, or
parties held for salesmen, or visiting firemen, or
fraternities, of which there was a shitload at the
Boston colleges, in any week it would have only been a
few, like two or maybe even three or four parties like
that going on in any week.
I admit, looked at cumulatively, it may look like a
lot, as much as a hundred to two hundred bachelor and
stag parties in any year. These would be anything from
a hired stud and some hooker or hookers fucking for an
audience, to sometimes, maybe once a year somewhere in
the State, the real adventurers would have a real sex
circus, animals and all, or combination stag shows and
drunken gang fucks. But if you think about this
happening among about five million people, that's not a
lot.
In the entire New England States, all of the States,
I'd heard from the Clubs I worked with, there were
maybe two or three other real amateurs like us, at any
one time, taking a chance. Because when I would arrange
something, that would always be a chance for the guy
who was making the arrangements to bring up the
question of whether my wife and I would be willing to
do this or that sex act that they'd heard about some
other amateur couple doing. Each amateur had a very
different style, that was for sure.
We didn't work by formula. Often these other couples
were just like us, usually doing it for kicks. But they
only tried it maybe once or twice, for the thrill of
making money fucking and having a good time in a sex
exhibition. Sort of at random.
The amateur that made a practice of it, in
Massachusetts, was asking for it; if they did it more
than one or two times, sooner or later there were
always little local yokel cops at these shindigs, and
they'd rat to their Statie counterparts, just cop-to-
cop courtesy. A careless couple would be set up for
entrapment. I went to elaborate measures to avoid that,
just in the way I worked it.
Any amateur who came to the attention of the cops was
sucked into their sick game. So that amateur would be
off the scene pretty quickly. Eileen and I fucked for
audiences all over New England, New York City and New
York State. We spread ourselves thin, if you don't mind
the joke.
But, in general, nobody in staid, uptight, sexually
repressed New England had ever heard of what we were
doing, that is, in the sixties. In California, today,
fuck it, it's like buying a hot-dog at the beach. No
big deal. It's an amateur hobby or second income. But
these are weird times.
But what we were doing? Where did you ever hear of an
audience being treated to a family-style (for real)
slide show and home movies, beforehand? Just to give
the affair that "homey" and "cozy" flavor. You get the
impact?? That was a real kinky husband, for sure! My
audiences dropped their socks with astonishment that it
was actually taking place. They thought, always, that
it was some kind of joke, or hype, or "kicky" con that
I was putting over on them.
Well, some six years, and 45 other stag shows, by 1972,
my Eileen was then a jaded a 30-year old mother of
three kids. At that point my disgusted wife pulled out
of doing stags forever. Four years later she would
totally split from me. We'd had a third kid, less than
a year after the first three stag shows, in 1967. A
short break. In case you've got a dirty mind; no, no,
our third baby was not conceived out of the pool of
scum pumped off into my wife's bare pussy hole at a
stag party. As a matter of fact, Eileen was three
months pregnant, and showing a little preggie belly at
her third stag party.
That fun "party" the little pregnant mother had was her
third stag or it could have been her fourth party. I've
got a list, but it's too much bother to look it up,
right now. Anyway, this bunch of stag parties, about
one a month, was like a crazy opportunity, they all
sort of all fell into my lap at once. I'd been
maneuvering for a year, and everything came together at
once.
I wasn't even assured by Eileen that she'd be willing
to do any more than just the first one, if even that,
but went ahead with the arrangements, anyhow. Why not?
Arranging for it was pretty exciting, in itself. I
could always pull out. The young mother had
"entertained" at that many parties in just three or
four months. Three or four of them.
And this third or fourth party was a real scum bag of a
dirty gang fuck. Not like the first two or three
parties. Those first two stags were a model of fun,
they were really wild, better than we could have ever
imagined. There were high jinks, the young mother
playing tease, everybody coddling her, enjoying her
sweetness. Not like this sordid affair in a bowling
alley in Connecticut. In Willimantic we had a crowd of
real low life. I'd gotten the lead from other activity
I'd indulged in, trying to line up parties.
Anyway, at this affair there was Eileen spreading her
pussy right on the bowling alley, bowling naked,
frigging her pussy with "duck pins", blowing off line-
ups in the men's room. All the things guys had ever
wanted to do to all the gals they ever saw in a bowling
alley were acted out. On my wife. No family photos
here. Just a gal walking into a bowling alley with a
bunch of guys waiting, in nothing but a coat and her
skin, and whammo! flash open the coat, showing nothing
on but black high heels and pussy and tits out for
action.
I've got a great series of nude photos I took of Eileen
earlier that same night. I did these "rehearsals" in
our living room, before we did our stags. It happened
the first time we did a stag, and it became a really
important part of the ritual. In these photos, which
are featured in the video, there is Eileen showing
those tits and pussy, just as she was ready to go for
it that night. The only photos I got a chance to take
that night were nudes.
These were taken when we almost leaped for our "sex
room" within moments after our kids were picked up by
Eileen's Mumsy for an overnight. We didn't waste time
fucking around with cameras, I'll tell you that, for
sure. I had to get my rocks off into her, and Eileen
had to fuck her bloody head off, before we left. It
just had to happen. Period. Otherwise the tension on
the long ride from New Hampshire down to Willimantic
would have burst over on the road.
These "rehearsals" were some of the most excited sex we
ever had, anticipating the main event, talking about
what would happen at the stag party, while we were
fucking, there in our "sex room", and going out of our
heads over it, coming like crazy.
Ah, but then there's the "aftermath". You know what I
mean? You know that "let-down" guys get after fucking?
The lethargy. The feeling of "what the fuck did we ever
do that for?" Eileen and I would moan and groan, and
look at each other, all worn out from fucking, and
laugh. Oh, why the hell were we doing this? Eileen
would go limp, looking at me.
Laughing at the both of us, calling us both nuts. We
shouldn't go through with this. We'd already gotten our
rocks off over the idea. Nothing could be more exciting
than that. How the hell was Eileen going to go through
with this now? What the hell were we doing, going to a
stag? All the little woman felt like doing, was going
into her beddy-bye and snuggling up to the pillow.
And frankly, I didn't feel too peachy-keen on the whole
idea, either, post-coitus. After fucking my girl, here
I was in a normal, rational state of mind. In the clear
light. Ugh! This was screwball! I looked at it the same
way as the audience looked at me. What kind of crazy
was I to want a crowd of horny assholes sticking their
dicks into my wife, the good and kind mother of my
kids? Ooo-oo-oh, what a weirdo! I must be some sick
puppy to have started this.
We sort of made ourselves do it. We had no more desire
to go through with this than we had to wade through a
tub of shit. But we had to. We would laugh and groan,
saying we'd fucked away our evening, or our party. And
we were getting paid. The idea of all those guys
waiting. All the build up. None of these Clubs ever
believed we'd ever really go through with it.
Couldn't blame them for thinking I was just some kind
of fruitcake, getting my rocks off over an idea, a
fantasy that I could never pull off. Frankly, it was
just as well we fucked beforehand. Who the hell could
have taken the tension, on the drive down? You know,
that was like a five hour drive. But the same thing
used to happen those times, later on, when we stayed
nearby, in a motel. The frantic fucking, beforehand.
Ah, but then, there was the stag show itself. Then all
the pre-fucking paid off. Because we needed patience,
and a clear head. Once you've fucked, you're not that
keen to fuck again, so the fucking set me up to get
into it unexcited, mostly, cold-blooded, and protected.
Both Eileen and I both walked out of shows I'd arranged
that were suspicious, even after all of my screening.
Never started them.
Sometimes there was just this feeling that we could be
raided, or the guys were acting too fidgety, as if they
were not letting us be in charge, but were leading us
on, so they could do something I expressly said we
wouldn't do. You know. Like a shiftiness in the eyes,
an unwillingness to make eye contact, I just had the
sense of betrayal in the air.
It was like a sixth sense, a radar. I'd heard the
horror stories and took them all seriously, every one
of them. I'd say that one out of every four or five
planned stags were like that. If we'd been all juiced
up, too much, we probably would have walked into some
really nasty situations. I don't want you to get this
wrong. We were excited. But not THAT excited, if you
get what I mean.
Sort of something that grew out of this pre-stag
"blowing off the steam", or the cum, if you'll pardon
the joke, happened more or less the way it was destined
to. We ended up giving these little "warm-ups", after
the first year, or maybe less, with my "contact", the
guy who'd arranged it with me, or the MC. Believe it or
not, at some of the stag shows we actually had an MC
introducing us. We'd rehearse the thing with the guy,
try to "lay it out".
Those were really the best of the shows, when a guy was
making funny remarks into a mike while your wife was
fucking on stage. Hilarious, sexy, funny, erotic,
exciting, all of that. Some of these guys were great
clowns, keeping the atmosphere light, while my wife
fucked, either me, or groups of guys, or male stud stag
performers at "the party".
I mean Eileen would be in the middle of blowing off
some guy's dick, and she'd catch the funny line and
start laughing, with the dick in her hand, I mean she'd
stop sucking cock, and crack up. The guys who were
waiting to be sucked off, the line-up, laughing their
heads off. HONEST!
These guys, the MCs, usually wanted to get their rocks
off first, a sort of privilege. WE knew it, but the MC
and Eileen and I played a little tease and seduction
game, exciting, really. It always ended up with the guy
and me fucking my wife Eileen's cunt and mouth together
in a threesome. I'll tell you, sometimes, just because
it was ahead of the main event, in the empty hall, or
on an empty stage, without anyone there yet, it could
bring on some of the most intense orgasms, for all of
us. Our most solicitous and best MCs, on stage, were
guys who fucked Eileen's face or pussy ahead of the
crowds.
On the later stags it would sometimes be the officers
of the particular Club, union or managers and coaches
and captains of the team, a small group, who would take
us to dinner, amazed at how "normal" we were, as a
couple. Three to four to five or six guys fucking
Eileen, before "The Main Bang".
It was the time pressure, to fuck Eileen before the
herd came in, that pumped it all up. It was frantic,
hectic, crazy, everybody laughing, because they all
felt they had to fuck my wife and get their rocks off
into her pussy hole or her mouth before the "gang
came", a real pun. A real competitive, exciting
atmosphere. It was like they were "cuckolding" their
buddies or team-mates, getting one up on them, like
fucking a lady in her own house, in the marital bed,
within minutes of the time the husband was due home for
supper. Same kind and brand of excitement. The
erections in these "warm-ups" were hard as rocks, not a
limp dick in a car-load.
A Description of Eileen:
At this point I realize that Eileen is sort of
faceless. I'll remedy that. If you're not part of that
very intimate, special, and favored crowd I've been
screwy enough to send a copy of the video to, I'll
describe my pretty wife Eileen. At least the way she
looked back then.
Eileen had a very pretty oval-shaped Irish-British
face. Her looks were common in this country. My little
wife was a "type", one of the prototypes of the All-
American girl. Eileen resembled "Ivy League" women you
usually associate with class, with upper-class. A lot
of pretty clothing models look like Eileen in the
tonier catalogue order stories that the smarter and
richer and frugal Yankee crowd shops from, catalogues
for classic clothing, like "The Talbots".
There are a lot of model "types". At the extremes are
those with these refined oval faces. You've seen them,
they look like royalty. At the other end are these
large-jawed, wide-apart cat-eyed small snub-nosed
creatures, the Shirley Temple types. Eileen's refined
oval face was crowned with a wavy halo of short, honey-
colored hair. Her features are evenly spaced, none too
large for the others, except that her eyes are really
big lamps.
Eileen's full brow was graced with arching thick
eyebrows, like Elizabeth Taylor's, and below these were
large, sparkling china-blue eyes. Imagine a honey-
colored hair version of Elizabeth Taylor. Eileen's jaw,
unlike Elizabeth's, which is slightly weak, is normally
shaped, compared to another English-Irish type, the
lantern-jawed Irish or English.
Her skin was the clearest of clear, almost pearl-like
and translucent, and occasionally her nose and upper
cheeks got freckled in the sun. She had a straight
strong nose, and shapely, soft, very definite pink,
beautiful lips framing a rather medium sized mouth, and
regular, evenly spaced, beautiful white teeth. She also
had a load of dental work done on that mouth to make it
perfect.
I mention the teeth because the less wealthy Irish and
English girls of Eileen's age usually had poor teeth
due to poor diets. Eileen had a brogue, charming, and
that in spite of the fact she'd been raised in this
country from the time she was 3 1/2 years old.
I'd expect that my most interested readers would have
been born during the pre-War, 1925 to 1940 period. They
may remember the English actress Deborah Kerr. Eileen
looked like a mix between Taylor and Kerr, somewhat
similar to Kerr, with a stronger jaw, a very classy
dame.
The companion video has been filmed in accordance with
a script which has also been included in the story
collection, in case particular readers don't have
access to the video. The script gives the voice
narration which is dubbed in on the video to accompany
the visual image. The tabular entry preceding the audio
dubbed material gives the duration of the narration,
and the point in time at which the narration starts.
The script was used as the guiding document for making
the video.
I know I sound very technical, and my writing also
sounds sort of technical, too, or "intellectual".
Frankly, I've never been to college, but I grew up in
New York, and my Mamma made me into a bookworm. I've
read everything, so I'm self-taught. I mostly sell. I
sell real estate, I sell anything. But I always haunted
writer's groups. I took courses on writing, on film
writing, too. So I've written tons of material over my
life. The "intellect' is only skin deep. Underneath it
I'm still pretty much of an animal. As you'll see.
This is the first place in the stories where I'll slice
a cut, or an extract from the video script into the
story. Appropriately the opening part of the script is
titled story 1, Chapter 1, with identical titles to
story and chapter. The video more or less travels along
in parallel with stories. In the opening section of the
video I show Eileen's face for the first time, just the
way I've described her. These are the script extracts
from B01C01 video clips 01 and 02.
# TITLE WORDS DURATION START
MIN SEC MIN SEC
01 Desk portrait of Eileen 95 0 37 0 0 Script:
This pearl-necklaced, bare-shouldered portrait of
Eileen, my very young and classy looking Irish-born
wife, was taken in '63 when she was only 21 years old
and the mother of our two small children, aged 1 and 3.
I was a 36 year old hustler, a self-educated, ugly,
bald and fat Italian, and very vain about my wife's
heritage, the classy English side which gave her the
snooty look you see. I proudly kept a silver-framed
version of this photo at work, which co-workers dubbed
"the Princess Portrait". I adored Eileen and kept a
wallet version for showing off, too.
# TITLE WORDS DURATION START
MIN SEC MIN SEC
02 Color head portrait 104 0 41 0 37 Script:
Not only was a miniature of the desk portrait in my
wallet, there was a full figure photo shot taken in the
same photo shoot as the bare-shouldered portrait, on a
Sunday dawn, in July, at 5:30 A.M., in our deserted
Town high-school football field. Eileen was wearing
pearls, dress patent leather high heels, and was stark
naked, grinning from ear to ear, her nipples rosy, red,
erect, with a shocking thick bush of pubic hair,
posing. I often flashed these photos as a teaser for
prospective stag party contacts, or for kicks, on
travel, in darkened bars, when other guys showed wallet
photos.
Chapter 6: Our Public Exhibitionism
-----------------------------------
I'll make a comment on that script piece. That football
field was the reason Eileen and I moved into the small
New Hampshire town where we settled and raised our
kids. It was way down in this hollow, below the line of
sight from the Town high school and elementary school
complex.
Eileen indulged me, early in our marriage, by
accompanying me as I cruised around searching for
deserted places where I could play at the risky sport
of having public sex. Outdoors I usually pulled quick
photo sessions of my nude babe, and then had her get
down on her knees to suck me off, naked, or fucked her
standing, while she bent over to get pumped. Rarely on
her back on the ground. But mostly with her nude, and
me dressed. Usually at dawn, in picnic grounds, or
other kinky locations.
It was during on one of my excited hunts over the
landscape of Massachusetts and New Hampshire, heatedly
looking for places to publicly fuck my amused, young,
gullible and accommodating bride, that we went through
this sleepy small New Hampshire town. I took a dog-leg
off the main road because I'd spotted a school sign.
That's how I'd stumbled onto this great, half-hidden,
half public outdoor location.
For a long time, while we lived in the Town, I played
this risky game, teetering on the edge of being
discovered. Fucking Eileen by the football field meant
taking the tantalizing chance of being discovered, in
our own Town, at the same time minimizing the risks of
discovery, because of the time of day, and depression
of the field below the line of sight. We had enough
close calls to keep it incredibly exciting.
There's no thrill like a set of headlights coming down
the road, at 1 or 2 A.M., on a weekday school day
morning, on a totally moonlit, bright warm Spring night
to give your balls an extra thrill, when some teen-age
parker or make-out artist is seeking to drill his date
for excitement. This happened.
The moon is full, the sky clear, and it is brilliantly
lit. Eileen and I are both naked. Instead of being
close to the slope which led up from the hollow to the
road which led into the area from Main Street, we are
in the open, the furthest part of the field away from
the slope, the most likely spot to be looked down on
and seen. But it was also the easiest position from
which to run to cover, you could dash it, with your
dick dangling, naked, dragging your clothing, within
five seconds, the dashing distance to the area behind
the rickety iron stands, and then the covering darkness
of the Norway pines.
My sweet naked wife is bent over, hands on her thighs,
I am fucking her little pussy. She must have been all
of 20 or 21. I had my dick in my own wife's pussy,
while she's bent over naked at the edge of the field.
The car is approaching the field, slowly. There I am,
in the middle of an ejaculation, as my sweetie is
grunting, Uh-Uh-Uh, right in time with my pumps, bare-
ass, biting her lip, trying not to shout as she has
orgasm after orgasm. She is grunting, muttering that
they were going to see us, they were going to see us.
Because the headlights are shining way above us, into
the trees line.
Oh, shit, I was coming. That's an ejaculation caused by
headlamps. My prick squirted off a gusher into Eileen's
vagina. We both grabbed clothing, crazy, and scrambled
for the woods, suppressing giggles at the surprise and
the situation. Eileen left a baby blue sock lying in
the field.
And while we dressed, in a hurry, about to crawl back
home, the fucking intruder became just that. Two sets
of minds with two great thoughts. A huge, tall
humongous guy with a teeny little girl, it looked like
a high-schooler with an elementary school girl, headed
for the same field. Right square in the middle of the
fucking field, yeah, that's what I said, the fucking
field, this kid, this guy, gets down on the moist
grass, on his back, both kids fully clothed. No
nakedness for these two youngsters. The little girl
drops her panties and climbs on to the prick of what I
would bet was one of the school's football players (I
would bet it).
We were the ones who were supposed to be the fucking
performers on this field! But there they were. Fully
dressed. I kidded Eileen that we should join them, in a
foursome, my mouth literally in her ear. She winced
because it tickled her, the idea, and had to suppress a
giggle. What could they do? I told her. Caught red-
handed, no red-pricked. No, she wasn't in to that,
shaking her head vigorously.
It was too dark under the trees, I could barely see
Eileen's face. The teen agers were maybe 200 feet away.
You couldn't see any details. This was not the standard
porno suck and fuck. We watched, but were pressed to
get the hell out of there. You know, we got this
"after-fuck" letdown, and wanted to be home in bed,
just then. Eileen was giddy because she'd lost her
sock, as we walked behind the Church on the Common to
our house, grinning. The Town totally asleep. A farm
Town. I didn't know why Eileen found it so funny.
I didn't get back to the field for several days, was
too busy, and Eileen's sock was gone. What the hell did
anyone want with one lost sock? Probably a dog got it
and used it as a rag toy. Out of curiosity I walked
around where the two kids had been fucking. Deep in the
newly growing Spring grass, there it was, the condom,
somewhere about the same area. That started me
searching, from then on.
That was a busy place, "our" field. I wonder how many
others had skittered off and watched Eileen and me
fuck. The grass was pretty worn down on the field,
during the summer. The upper field was used for
baseball, but the football field always had kids
playing on it. There were condoms under the stands.
Interesting. Fucking on the slats and pulling it off?
There were, on average, two or three used condoms a
month. A lot of them close to the steep slope, up the
hill, at the base, and others close to the tree line.
Pretty few "in the open" fuckers. How about that?
The apartment we rented in an old New England farm
house converted into three rental apartments, was,
literally, within walking distance from the field, just
by dumb luck. The house was 600 feet from the Town
Common, and the entire school complex, and the field
itself, was only 1300 feet from our front door.
This meant that, any time of the night we could skulk
over to the field, totally clear of street lights, just
crossing the street at like 3 or 4 in the morning, and
taking one short block's walk to the "way" that led to
the field. It was our own private public
exhibitionistic stage, weather and time permitting.
It was one of the features of the Town, this location
for fucking Eileen at dawn, which attracted me to the
Town when we had to move and look for a place, just
before Eileen delivered her second kid. Anyway, after
we moved to Town we used this location many times,
unobserved, as one of various places in the Town where
I pursued this screwy business of fucking my wife in
public. As we became settled residents I also used our
Church sanctuary, and various meeting rooms, because I
had keys to the building, and even eventually got a key
to our Town Hall, because I'd gotten involved in Town
politics.
Anyway, on the occasion when I shot these wallet photos
the Town was fast asleep, and our only audience was an
occasional stray dog who watched this strange
performance. The situation was always exciting for me,
and on this occasion, too, Eileen ended up giving me a
blow job, pearls and all, till I squirted my sperm into
her throat, which she swallowed. I was too excited
fucking Eileen's mouth to fuck around with cameras,
just then.
After Eileen swallowed my cum for me in one of my
public exhibitionistic adventures I would always be so
happy, really manic, actually, that my elated state
would amuse Eileen. I'd be giggling and joking. Like I
would be after she gave stags for my pleasure, later
on. I would fawn over Eileen. After we returned to the
house I'd feed her breakfast. I'd spend an hour in our
bed frigging her, fucking her, bringing her off to one
orgasm after another. Those days she'd be treated like
a princess.
Eileen's Body
To flesh out my description of Eileen; the girl was
short, barely five-feet tall, had slight down-sloping
shoulders, they were very slim. On top Eileen was a
petite girl. Her mouth-sized little tits were far apart
on the outer edges of her upper chest, close to her
arm-pits. She could've worn deep V-neck blouses with no
tit cleavage showing. Eileen's breasts were crowned
with nipples that erected into very prominent suckable
teats when she was sexually stimulated. At least half-
inch long pointy teats.
My Irish Eileen had a rather longish torso, with broad
hips, a big ass, and shapely dancer's legs, accentuated
by strong thighs. My tiny wife's broad hips had
prominent love handles which begged to be grabbed so
her pussy could be pressed against an erection, hips
that were very sexy on such a little girl, and gave her
a slight pear-shaped body.
The pretty young mother was blessed with an ass that
jutted out, a big round Irish ass, while up front she
flashed a bushy Irish pussy that stimulated desires in
some guys to bury their faces in her hairy crack and
eat her cunt. It wasn't my dish, because as far as I
was concerned my wife had a nasty-tasting snatch.
Eileen was never taught, and never consistently
practiced any sort of basic feminine hygiene.
Here's the script from the next video clip which
illustrates that description I just gave of Eileen:
# TITLE WORDS DURATION START
MIN SEC MIN SEC
03 Eileen in stag rehearsal 87 0 34 1 19 Script:
As my first story opens I describe Eileen's face.
You've seen her beauty now. In the story I lovingly
describe Eileen's naked body, and here she is, laughing
and teasing, flashing open her coat on her pussy and
tits the way she did in one of her first gang fucks in
1966 at a bowling alley in Willimantic Conn.
This Polaroid was shot during a fuck and suck photo
session I held in our living room as a sort of cunt and
cock "warm up" before the gang fuck activities of that
night, when Eileen diddled her hot red pussy in front
of a drooling audience.
Chapter 7: Today's Boring Sex Reality
-------------------------------------
I want to make a comment on the difference between a
true story and the loosy-goosy fantasy stuff that seems
to dominate all porno media, whether it's video or
text. I find that stuff, a lot of it, anyway, so
dreamy, vague, or repetitious, with all the same dirty
words, that it's boring. I think what I'm laying out
for you may be a lot different, unlike the swinger
stories of today. Today nothing is shocking. Or really
gut-wrenching, stimulating, either. Nothing is
exciting. Everybody has seen everything, and porno is
the most boring thing in the world.
Boring, boring, bo-o-o-o-ring. But what we did, won't
happen again, with the freedom, and all the
possibilities we were able to explore. I can't see, in
post-AIDS, nudity-shocked America that a straight
couple could exploit the innocence of their crowds, and
their own adventurous spirit to do the unimaginable,
the surprising, the utterly unthinkable. Everything is
thinkable, there are no surprises, no stimulations that
don't have to be utterly sick to cause some kind of
reaction, even if it's revulsion.
Because of AIDS-fear, how can a truly happy, ordinary
couple fuck groups of ordinary guys. Without formula.
Formula garters, formula high heels, formula shaved
pussy, formula whore outfit. Formula cum shoot off. We
played original sex games with guys who would never
have fooled around, in their whole lives, unless we had
tripped our funny sexy way into their lives.
Guys who'd never even looked into their wives' pussies
spread, seen any snatch wide open, in the light of day.
I'll tell you something, jaws dropped, literally, jaws
dropped open when I exposed my wife's spread cunt to
some of these guys. You know what a kick that was for
me?
There I was, in front of an audience, wheedling and
seducing my apparently resistive and embarrassed wife
into giving the guys a look, getting her to bend over
and spread it wide. Just to see the looks on their
faces?
These days I've sat at a nude bar and watched some
cocaine-doped up angel spreading her 19 year old pink
pussy right over me, and gone on drinking with a bar
buddy, ignoring a display which would have brought down
the house when Eileen and I were doing those things.
Times really have changed, for the much, much worse.
Today ordinary guys, regular guys are scared of their
shadows, would never, in their right minds, hold a
free-for-all gang fuck, like we did, without fear.
They're scared their dicks will fall off. Today what
ordinary guy would even dream of dipping a bare cock
into a gal's holes, without the perhaps realistic fear
of dying a terrible death? AIDS-fear chills a dick, for
real.
What kind of gang sex is that, with condoms? Beat your
meat! You meet a better class of people. AIDS has
turned us all into a nation of meat-beaters,
masturbation is definitely "in".
Chapter 8: Stag Show, The Way We Did It
---------------------------------------
The usual stag shows were performed by whores in the
mid-Sixties. What a kick we were. A pretty young wife
in her mid-twenties, with two little kiddies at home, a
clean and caring mother did not expose her pussy to the
glare of Club klieg lights before a crowd of shocked
and drooling males.
Because I was making my own rules there were some
peculiarities in what I demanded of these Clubs. You
know, 46 or 47 stag parties over about a seven year
period is hardly "burning rubber" in the stag party
sprint competition. But I interviewed at least ten
times that number before I would settle on a Club or
group, maybe twice a week, sometimes. And I had a
couple of real strict rules.
If there was a gang screw, it was all open, in front of
the entire audience. A lot of Clubs didn't want that. A
lot of Clubs didn't qualify. See ya later. That was my
kick. That's was my payoff, that was what I was in it
for. You couldn't take Eileen off into a side room, and
one after another go in and fuck her, so that maybe the
whole crowd would have gotten a chance to fuck her.
That wasn't my thing. If nobody from the audience could
get it up to fuck Eileen in front of his buddies, fine,
at least everybody had gotten a good show, a good look
at her screwing. But just because of what she was, and
what most of them believed her to be, you would be
shocked how many ordinary guys who would never, in
their life, have dreamed of taking their porkers out to
fuck a woman in front of buddies, who would not do it.
Now I want to make a point about that. You know, there
are probably between 900 and 1000 men and boys, and I
mean from old men to young boys, I really mean boys,
little boys, who stuck their pricks into one or another
of that little mother's orifices. I don't even know if
many of the older guys are even still alive, today,
because that pretty little mid-twenties housewife was
fucking and sucking off some pretty worn-out old
veterans of World War I and World War II in some of
those Vet's Clubs.
She was a little baby when some of these guys were
grand-pappies. My wife Eileen was gulping cum out of
the balls of guys who were thirty and even forty years
older than she was. Just the idea she was so much
younger than they were stimulated a lot of old cocks
into squirting off into my little wife's pussy hole,
almost the minute they got their excited hogs jammed
into the young mother's twat.
Most of these gleeful, grinning and grateful guys were
faithful older married guys, or poor lonely bachelors,
drinking in the Vet Clubs, or other private clubs,
living at home with their old parents. Fucking my wife
was the chance of their lifetime to screw another guy's
wife, without getting shot in the ass by a shotgun.
Fucking the lady's pussy in front of her husband's own
face, yet! I can't ever describe the glee and
excitement on these guys' faces when they first saw my
wife naked, and then actually jammed their rods into
her holes. It was unforgettable. Like their entire
lives could have ended just then, they could have died
and gone to heaven.
Talk about excitement, though. You think those guys
were excited? My heart used to pump up so much, like I
said, that half the time I thought I was going to have
a heart attack from watching. I'd get so steamed up,
often, at least at the first stag shows, that my dick
never went limp. I would jump in and fuck Eileen, join
the crowd fucking my wife maybe six, seven or even
eight times in an evening.
And my wife? Forget it! When she was new at stag
fucking Eileen was often so crazy with the excitement
of this totally forbidden and crazy activity that she
was she was flushed from forehead to her collar bones,
like with hives on her neck. Orgasms! Her pussy would
not stop twitching all evening. That's why we did stags
on week-ends. It would take Eileen two days after a
stag party to even get up and move around, that's how
deeply into adrenal shock the mass fucking put her.
Once she got exposed to an audience, and I even touched
the end of Eileen's clit with my finger, her orgasms
never stopped till the last of the stag. There was no
way to number them, orgasms would keep coming for the
entire evening. Often the only relief Eileen got,
because the minute a cock went into her pussy, her
firecrackers popped, was when the little girl was down
on her knees, sucking off a line of cocks.
A lot of times the situation would get her so excited,
sucking on one cock after another in a line, that she
couldn't resist putting her finger down in her crack,
and that would light up the firecrackers again. This is
no shit. Not like "cool sex" of today. More like what
that phony Madonna slut simulates, but fakes.
For some of those guys probably the only blow job they
ever got was from my wife, if the Kinsey Sex Report,
shocking as it was at that time, was right. According
to Kinsey, back in 1954, I don't remember exact
figures, only some 30% of the entire male population of
the United States had ever gotten a blow job, even
once. It was even less for the some the men of the
older generation that Eileen sucked off.
Only one out of ten of those guys who were fifty and
sixty, in the mid-sixties, had never gotten their dicks
eaten, ever. The rest, the 90%, dreamed about it and
could only imagine what it felt like.
About These Stories:
I don't know who the readers of this story will be. I
mean, out of a thousand guys, some of you readers could
actually have been at one of Eileen's shows and gang
bangs. For those of you guys who wondered what it took
to bring a couple like us to Clubs and parties, like I
said in the beginning, I'd like them to know what my
wife Eileen and I were really like, how you got the
chance to fuck my little sweetie.
For you kids of the younger generation, I don't see how
any of you could possibly be interested in this. With
the adult movies, and the routine, boring, boring over-
exploitation of numb cock, numb cunt, numb, numb, numb
sex acts, scenes over and over again of guys squirting
off cum on girls, like drilled soldiers, this forbidden
world we lived in will be totally unreal.
I'll try to bring back for the guys of my generation
what it was like. They can remember. After awhile, with
present day porno, there's no place to go from here,
for the young. There is no innocence. When everybody
has seen everything, what's hidden? The world is like a
fucking animal barnyard!
Anyway, that should fix an image in your head of our
heroine. Now this series of stories, and the video tape
featuring her sexually active body, didn't just come
out of the blue. The collection evolved.
Initially I wrote to Swinging magazine correspondents
during the late '70s and the early '80s. The original
letters were accompanied by a few dirty photos of my
then-recently-divorced wife, Eileen. Along with the
pornography I mailed out, which featured my ex-wife's
pussy and tits, I included a photo-narrative describing
events and personal background for each dirty photo.
I also mailed illustrative family album photos to show
how straight and conventional she was in real life.
Eileen had left me very few of either types of
photographs when she divorced me, she'd grabbed
practically all of my porno and family photo
collection.
Anyway these photos that I sent out, and the
accompanying extended captions that went with the
photos, which I called "photo narratives", fleshed out
the stories I wrote about the stag shows and other sex
acts that Eileen had been conned into doing for me. All
of these stories, which were originally in letter form,
were fused into a version of Eileen's sex biography.
The biography was written bit by bit, and then in a
more organized fashion over a period of years. I told
Eileen's story year by year, from the time she was a
young child, till she was doing stag shows with me,
because that was also the way I laid out the photos,
year by year. It seemed natural. So Eileen's sex
biography got the title of the "Chronology". There were
two evolving documents, the Chronology and the Photo-
Narrative.
I got more and more questions from correspondents. The
more I answered, the larger the Chronology and Photo-
Narrative grew. In fact parts of the Photo-Narrative
got so extensive and long that they had to be broken
off and joined into the Chronology.
Correspondents asked for all sorts of details; they
were curious and amazed at the pair of us. They wanted
to know about our family life, about Eileen's early sex
life. They wanted to know very exactly how I managed to
con Eileen into becoming an amateur stag performer.
Some guys wanted me to describe other gals I'd fucked,
like Eileen. They wanted to understand how I got my
almost hypnotic power over my wife.
When I first started writing to these fellows all I did
was to described certain stags that I'd enjoyed, but
not in too much detail. I talked about the first stag
show we ever did, that was like a virgin describing her
honeymoon. And like a honeymoon that first stag party
set the tone for many of our other performances.
My correspondents wanted details, times and places, and
most important to them, numbers. They were obsessed
with numbers, statistics of sex. My writers wanted to
know things like the number of guys Eileen had sucked
off at some particular stag party/gang bang, or the
number of cocks that had pumped her holes at both ends
at that same party. They wanted details about how many
oversized cocks she'd shoved into her vagina, or sizes
and colors of cocks that Eileen sucked.
Their statistical curiosity was amazing. They asked for
information on the overall totals, like for all the
stags she'd ever done, the totals of how many guys in
all she'd given blow jobs to, the grand total for all
of her stag blow jobs. Or else guys would want to know
the grand total of cocks or the total numbers of
animals Eileen had allowed to penetrate her little
mother's pussy hole.
I had to rough all that in either raw, from memory, or
based on occasional notes I happened to scribble down
at the original stag shows. And I had to find those
notes in all the jumble of disorganized papers that had
piled up around me, in disorganized depression after
Eileen had left me. I didn't have that many very
detailed notes, they were scattered all over, helter-
skelter.
Those original notes had been jotted down with nothing
in mind, mostly out of my own amazement at what had
happened with my wife. So many times, though, most of
the numbers I supplied my correspondents were only
guesses, and I made that clear. Eventually a summary
table was needed, including question marks where my
estimates of numbers were only rough guesses.
I kept adding stories or incidents to the letter
documents, based on requests to do so, or tried to
reconstruct statistics which had been asked for, and my
audience got larger and larger. And so did the hand-
written letters I sent back, which I then ended up
typing out in more organized form. To my surprise I
ended up with chapters, and then I'd managed to write
small stories. Out of desperation, in the mid-eighties,
I invested in a computer and word-processor. Then, over
the years, more stories were written, and the
collection slowly took shape.
The same format as I used in the letters is continued
now in the stories. The individual stories are in the
same tradition as my Chronology of sex, they are stand-
alone descriptions of sex adventures. In a very similar
way the script of the companion video to these stories
plays the same role as the Photo-Narrative did, and
it's accompanying still photos relative to the
Chronology.
The companion video, like the material that went along
with the Photo Narrative, still consists largely of
still photos, with the script being narrated or dubbed
in as voice background. For those of you who don't have
access to the companion video I've included the script
of the video as a separate story, and interspersed
script extracts into the stories, where appropriate. I
refer to the appropriate clip, often, to illustrate
some portion of the story.
My motivation for writing and sending out photos at
first is obvious, it grew from a sense of outrage at
being abandoned by Eileen, and out of a desire for
revenge. Even before she'd left the girl had stopped
sleeping with me more or less, mostly less. As a matter
of fact it was almost by mutual consent. She'd turned
into a no fun fuck. Even though the stags had stopped I
lived in a detached dream world of denial of that fact.
I really went a little nuts, to be frank, denying the
realities of our situation. In a totally bizarre and
looney way I believed that Eileen was really taking a
"sabbatical", a short leave from doing stag shows, that
it was all only temporary, that my little girl would
"let her pussy heal" and that she'd return to doing
stags.
To show you how really out of touch I'd become, I
actually continued to arrange for totally insanely
dirty stag shows, which Eileen had no intention in the
world of doing, crazily using photos of her former stag
performances to arrange these nutty affairs, and
pulling out at the last moment on screwball excuses. It
was like the pull of habit. Most of my time had been
spent arranging stag shows for Eileen, was my "kick",
my high, and I couldn't give it up.
Chapter 9: Destruction of my Porno Library
------------------------------------------
Finally, in '76, four years after Eileen had stopped
doing the stags, my poor baby completely broke her
ties, walked out, left me with the kids, took up with a
girl who'd been our family friend, but now in a lesbian
relation, and divorced me. The lesbian relation was new
to both of them, and it was very short-lived.
During the four year dry spell before the Finale,
before Eileen walked out, and after she stopped doing
stags, I found I could live without fucking her,
because I spent those years whacking my fucking dick
down to a frazzle, jerking off over my photo collection
of her stag performances, happy as a clam over these
mementos.
However, when my now-infuriated wife finally screwed up
the courage to leave me, this lesbian-provoked,
revengeful wife of mine grabbed my entire porno
collection, film canisters and all, in its entirety.
The vast majority of my dirty photo and film collection
was centered around Eileen, with some small excursions.
If I'd retained the collection I probably would've
spent the rest of my years whacking off over images of
the little girl's pussy being pumped by hundreds of
different penises, and her mouth being pumped full of
cum. I might have been too busy whacking off over
memories to write letters. And these stories. It was
the loss of all that gorgeous dirty material that
stimulated this weird project. I tried to recapture the
images with words.
So I got even with my ex-wife by spreading around the
few surviving photos I'd retained. These photos
survived because they were random and low quality
filthy photos I'd unintentionally and carelessly kept
clear of the huge hoard, secreting them in odd places,
so the kids wouldn't run across them, but forgetting
them, mostly.
Anyway these dregs of a once spectacular collection,
showing Eileen being fucked and sucking my cock, and
shoving veggies up her cunt, were sent to every guy I
could. It was sort of dumb and careless, but I really
couldn't get over the loss. I circulated Eileen's dirty
photos via the sexually explicit Swinging magazines of
the eighties, blabbing about what a filthy cunt she'd
been, advertising as if Eileen was still actively doing
these dirty things with me.
I kept wishing it were still true. What an agony, if
only she had! It not only stimulated my correspondents,
but it got my overcharged rocks off sending out the
photos. I continued getting the same ball tingle I'd
had before, like when I'd publicly spread open Eileen's
vagina to crowds and watched human and animal dicks
plug her hole and mouth.
Chapter 10: The Last Years of Stag Parties
------------------------------------------
From a current perspective I can't blame Eileen for
running out on me. Those first stags that started in
'66, and for a few years after, were fun and kicks and
highs, all the way. The stags we performed in the later
years were very twisted. In fact we'd gotten very
jaded, ourselves. In the beginning my sweet Irish wife
was young and sexually inexperienced.
Frankly, even though Eileen appeared to be very
reserved, like butter wouldn't melt in her mouth, the
little Irish cunt was normal and had a healthy
curiosity about what it would feel like to stuff other
healthy cocks into her very itchy crotch. And then, out
of her mind with surprise, having started out doing
stag shows, and the gang fucks that went with them,
largely to feed my sexual perversion, my wife herself
got a twisted kick out of being gang banged in front of
me, having me witness her getting off her rocks over
and over again with other men's pricks jammed into her
cunt.
Eileen confessed to me one time that she got this
enormous kick at being married to me, and putting the
horns on me in public, cuckolding me right to my face
at stag party after stag party, with hundreds and
hundreds of different men pumping her pussy.
My pretty little wife said that guys would ask her,
they'd whisper in her ear, while vigorously pounding
their pudding into her bowl, if it wasn't fun to get
fucked right in front of her husband, forcing him to
watch other guys fuck her, and her fuckers and she
would giggle over it, like bad little kids. That kick
and that thrill was the fuel that kept both of our sex
organs red and swollen in the beginning.
Toward the end, in the later years, our stag shows got
very perverted. In those later days I was trotting this
little innocent-looking wife around to stag shows which
featured Eileen in sex performance in front of more and
more jaded, glutted and demanding audiences.
They wanted to watch Eileen get ass-hole fucked, to
suck off blacks and animals, to fuck and suck immature
boys. All of which she did, including the young boys.
My wife was uncomfortable that these kids were just a
year or two older than her own developing son, and that
our son would soon be the same age as the kids she was
sucking off and fucking.
Added to that funny feeling in Eileen's mind was
increasing desire from the audiences to view us in
family sex acts, mixed with animals, and so forth.
Worse, though, there were increasingly perverted
"suggestions" and actual intimidations and all sorts of
manipulation from our stag "groupies". These "groupies"
were often the actual Club contacts and liaisons I
worked with in producing stag shows, as well as guys
who hung around with Eileen and me, both after and
before the stag show, proper, these groupies were stag
show "fans".
Quite often, for the extra kick of it, and on an
unpredictable and discretionary basis, Eileen and I,
either before or after the show, would initiate an
improvised and stimulating little small-group side-
actions with our groupies. These mini-stags were a sort
of sexual bonus offered to the Club contacts. If we
pulled off one of these appetizer shows or fuck
sessions, there was always the hope on my part that
this would serve like a sexual "payoff", a bit of
sexual "baksheesh".
I hoped that such sexual extras would bias our contacts
a little more in our favor, in dealing with potential
loss of control among the crowds. That possibility
always hovered over a performance, the chance of a
violent and disgusting gang rape of Eileen, an
uncontrolled and abusive use of her body. In fact,
after our groupies had fucked my little wife's hole, or
shot off their loads into her mouth before the main
bang, the payoff turned out to be very real.
Often enough to be worth it, the contacts would indeed
be protective of Eileen, when the Club members, drunk,
would get loud, vulgar, cursing Eileen like an ordinary
whore. Our groupies were a great defense, setting the
tone for the other Club members, in many ways, treating
her affectionately and familiarly.
These "Bonus Boner Bangs" could sometimes take place at
the same Club premises where the main bang occurred,
either before the main event started, or after everyone
had gone. On some occasions we'd go off to another
location, like a friend's private home, or the
contact's home, or even our own motel room and have a
little sex appetizer or dessert. It made the contact or
the groupies feel privileged.
The problem for us with some of these groupies, at the
later period stags, was that frequently a few of these
characters turned out to be little local tin-horn cops,
or State Police or Sheriffs, or local "big-wigs", jerks
who thought they could push people around.
Some of these distasteful bully boys were even, by
chance, low-level minor Mafia-connected clowns, petty
ante types. You could lump them all together, no
difference between cops and Mafia, in terms of sexual
intimidation. They got their sex kicks from the same
source, having someone sexually in their power. They
got off, really got orgasms from intimidating couples
sexually, they would brag about it to us, forgetting
who we actually were.
Anyway, some of these slobs and creeps occasionally
tried pressuring Eileen and me, by threats of blackmail
and other intimidation, like implying how easy it would
to get us busted, and even worse, physically mashed up
by muscle, if we didn't go along with indulging their
perverted tastes. And their tastes ran to having us
indulge in family sex on stage with our young kids, for
their amusement. The fact that I always carried a snub-
nose had a chilling effect on some of that. But not
enough, as far as I was concerned.
As we moved into the '70s, in just that five years from
when we started doing stags, the climate had changed.
It was wilder, less intimidating, because obscenity
laws had been blown off the stories, but I felt we were
in very dangerous and threatening territory. It was
hard to avoid in the private Club stag scene. Clubs
could now get amateurs, suddenly, to do anything,
anything at all in front of them. Both Eileen and I
felt the menace.
In '66, when we did our first stag I started out being
afraid of being arrested by the cops. Not Eileen, my
ninny never had the thought cross her simple mind.
Eileen never read the news, and when our neighbors got
busted in '64, for similar activities, Eileen walked
around in coo-coo land, being very sympathetic to them,
but never really paying attention to the gruesome
details, the way I did.
She never personalized it, applied it to our situation,
thought it could happen to us. In spite of these
unpleasant overtones I still could find some "clean
fun" situations, but the newer demands of the seventies
finally blew Eileen's fuse.
Chapter 11: A Dumb Way to Destroy My Collection
-----------------------------------------------
Anyway, after doing stags for over six years Eileen
flew the coop, and for good reason, in retrospect. From
what I just said you can see how nasty things were
starting to be in the stag scene. And she was over
thirty and no angel anymore. But Eileen really pulled
guerrilla warfare on me by destroying my collection.
What amazed me was that the silly asshole didn't even
bother to burn it all, she and her lesbo girl-friend
just dumped the contents out of her car trunk packed in
closed cardboard cartons, intact, onto a pile of trash
in a Town Dump near our own Town. Dopes! The damned
stuff could've broken open, or some nosey clown
could've found it and Eileen's pussy would've been
famous among friends and neighbors.
Eileen wasn't thinking straight about anything,
anything at all when she broke and ran. She left me
with our kids, after having been such a super Mommy.
I'd had four lock-safe file drawers packed with eleven
years worth of instant cock erection. There were black
and white and color prints, Polaroid's, slides and 16
mm movies that showed my little housewife jamming stuff
into her pussy and fucking and sucking incredible
numbers and different kinds and shapes and colors of
cock. I'd photographed & printed up at least ten
thousand prints, and Lord knows how many slides and
Polaroid's.
And maybe even a hundred hours of 16 mm sound film,
some of it from stag parties, some from little sex
exhibitions we used to do for pleasure in abandoned or
deserted public places at odd hours.
All of it was high quality, sharp and unique,
especially the animal sex portions at the stag shows.
These included a unique and spectacular set of reels I
took of Eileen getting her pussy fucked by the front
end of a little donkey's dong, where the donkey
actually dumped this huge stream of cum into the little
mother's cunt hole because I used a lubricated jerk-off
tube I slid over the full length of little animal's
dong to stimulate an ejaculation.
The first five years' worth of the collection, taken
before I'd gotten Eileen to fuck crowds at stags,
showed Eileen in solo sex, that is either jamming stuff
into her cunt hole, or having sex with her husband. The
collection from the early years progressed from nudes
to more outrageous acts. I "stage managed" a bunch of
phonied up sets that made it look as if Eileen was
doing sex acts that had never happened in reality, to
stimulate my fantasies.
Our earlier photos were spread pussy shots in our home.
Then I seduced Eileen into posing for photos of me
jamming my happy little red cock into her hairy pussy,
with her acrobatic body bent and contorted into every
possible position, or eating my cum in all sorts of
deserted places, like in the empty school I mentioned
before, and other public buildings in our little Town,
when I'd succeed in getting keys to those places.
We did fuck around in our Church, and the only shots I
dared to take were photos of Eileen giving me a blow
job in the minister's study, because the study had no
window and the flash wouldn't be visible outside the
Church.
These were all tame compared to the photos in the
collection dating from the last six years. This was the
crazy stuff, it showed Eileen performing for stag
shows, sucking off cock line-ups, and getting her young
mother's cunt penetrated by animal cock, with bunches
of blacks roasting her at both ends on the spit of
their pricks, like some little pig with its mouth
stuffed over a fire.
Pitiful odds and ends of my once glorious collection
survived the destructive onslaught, a hundred or so
photos and slides that had been overlooked, hidden in
various places in the house to keep them away from our
kids. In spite of precautions, though, one of our baby
sitters had gotten hold of samples of my secreted
photos, but I'll tell about that in another story.
Anyway, deprived of my collection I got bugged on
trying to remember how incredible it had all been, but
I didn't have my photos to stimulate me. You must be
able to see how frustrated I was. Which was partly the
reason I started to write. To remember.
Chapter 12: Training Eileen for Stags
-------------------------------------
You'll see I'm not a real writer. I'm certainly a
piggie. But not a real writer. Of course I'd love it if
this story made you feel like you were looking over my
shoulder, watching Eileen's cunt get filled, or even
inside my skin, feeling my dick being sucked like a
vacuum cleaner by my pretty woman's pretty mouth.
This is not the fantasy of some teen-age jerk-off
artist imitating Playboy or Penthouse letters. That
kind of shit, describing cocks and cunts and tits and
assholes in repetitive "flowery" language keeps my dick
limp. Some of you guys may not like real sex
description. Virgin teen-agers eat up that crap about
"sweet" cunts and "creamy" cum.
When I was trading photos I got "fantasy" bullshit back
from some of my correspondents. By contrast, when I say
that a cunt smells like toe cheese, that's on the
level. Some lousy cunts smell that way for the same
reason that all toes smell that way. Cunts and toes are
moist and sweaty, with no air. The skin oil rots or
ferments like any fat, and when it rots it stinks.
I don't call cum "creamy". It's not. It could be lumpy
and stringy, and real foul-tasting, especially for my
wife, sometimes. In fact sometimes it made my wife gag,
the cum from some guys, if they ate the wrong things.
She'd occasionally bitch about it. Like mother's milk
picks up tastes from what a gal eats. You are what you
eat.
O.K., enough of this philosophical bull-shit. Let's go
back to '66. The news magazines were full of stuff
about the Beatles, Andy Warhol, the Velvet Underground,
psychedelic light shows, the Vietnam War. On the sex
scene topless dancers got busted and fined for showing
bare tit in San Francisco. Honest! Showing nipples
without pasties, without little nipple cups, nipple
brassieres. How's that for medieval? And bare pussy!
Jail sentences!
Ordinary people got tossed into the clink for doing sex
acts that were yawn material, ten years later, like in
the sex peep shows along 42nd Street in New York. You
can sense that the same sort of legal sex repression is
starting up again these days. You can go to jail right
now in Georgia for having your wife suck you off in the
privacy of your own bedroom, because of a new law. Some
dude in Georgia is currently serving ten years because
his wife fucked him over that way. That's the way it
was then, only ten times worse than today.
Hugh Hefner of Playboy fame was constantly harassed for
just showing bare tit. For sure. But now, the sixties
are coming back, a nudist magazine, today, one that
shows anybody under 18 naked, not even sexually
involved, is open to prosecution in Massachusetts for
"child pornography". The wheel turns. It's coming back.
So what really happened? I'll give you a sample of what
it was like. At heart Eileen was shy, but she'd do
anything I wanted her to make me happy, sexually. But
it was all very tricky. She had to be properly
"handled". I'll tell ya', I had to do a lot of
manipulating, a lot of screwin' around to bend this
gullible, completely trusting Catholic wife of mine
into satisfying even some of my less perverted sex
acts, in the early months of our marriage. Sooner or
later she'd do it all, but I had to concentrate.
It wasn't only me that got my rocks off at conning the
little dummy. My blue-eyed sweetie pie herself got a
kick out of the seduction game. Even if she didn't know
what was in my twisted brain, my tootsie knew she was
going to end up doing what I wanted. But the cunt loved
to play extra innocent, just to tease me.
It took time. Like when we all lived in Camelot, and
Kennedy was "in", my 19 year old wife was being drawn
into the exhibitionism. Five years later, post Beatles,
long hair and flower children and LSD Eileen was
showing off in public, for an audience. Here I was, 39,
and balding, a very unattractive Italian. I was married
to this movie star quality wife, who was only 24. You
know what Eileen looks like, either from my
description, or looking at the video.
Here are the two of us in this scene. We're both at a
VFW party in a hick town near Brockton Mass. Let me
call it Easton, a real little cow-town that time let
pass by. Here's this darling five foot high wife of
mine, a good mother of two small kids, out for a night
on the town with her husband. The two of us are dancing
on a miniature dance floor to the romantic sound of a
tune crooning from a jukebox.
As a couple we're both dressed the way people do for
cocktails and dinner. I'm in a three-piece brown
business suit, gold watch and all. My blue-eyed wife is
dressed very "upper class", a tasteful orange and red
paisley satin blouse, deep green woolen skirt, deep
green, warm panty hose kinds of things, and low heels.
We're doing a showy solo on a dance floor in this
little Club. The Club may have had a ship outside, on
its sign, I'm vague on this. Maybe it was called
something like the Diplomat, or some such name, that
didn't go with the ship sign. I don't remember exactly,
it's possible, even at the best of times, to confuse
one Club with another when you go out "dancing".
Anyway, there we are, my wife and I, all dressed up to
go out to dinner, and now we're dancing under intense
spotlights. Eileen is a great, talented dancer. She
makes it all look so easy. Nothing unusual. But Eileen
is the only gal in that Club that night, all alone, in
a room packed to the rafters with VFW Club members and
invited male-only guests.
So what are we doing here? Well, this audience of small
town hicks are drooling in hot anticipation of what's
been promised for that night. Before we'd arrived at
their darkened Club they'd been circulating tasteful
"artistic" nude color prints I'd made of Eileen, and
which I'd lent them for weeks before the show.
These prints were lying around on the bar tables, being
glanced at from time to time by the drooling patrons as
my suburban-looking little wife and I dance lovingly in
front of them, kissing, cooing at each other. My wife's
ordinarily pale white face is red in the cheeks,
flushed with excitement in anticipation of what is
going to happen.
Eileen has never done what I'm about to try with her,
in her life. There's a lot of suspense in the air,
because the deal I worked with this Club was that no-
one could guarantee that this little girl wouldn't get
cold feet at the last minute. It might be just too much
for my wife, because I wasn't quite sure the little
mother could actually strip off her clothes and bare
herself naked in front of them, no less fuck her
husband or do anything like that.
I assured them that my little housewife had never taken
off her clothes in front of a crowd of leering guys
prepared to watch her husband fuck her mouth and cunt,
no less spread her legs for them to get a crack at her
slit. These guys are sweaty, panting to take out their
dicks and jam them into all her holes at once if I can
get her fucking me in front of them.
Finally, after unbearable suspense, I don't strip my
quivering, panting wife totally naked. No. But what I
do, on the shellacked wooden dance floor, is to help
Eileen, fully dressed, to step out of her panty hose
after she kicks off her shoes, one after the other. The
first step! The flood gates are opened. The guys howl
with delight. Both Eileen and I take the cheer with
raised arms, like victorious prize fighters, while
flashbulbs from cameras pop off.
That won't be the last of those for the night. Excited,
giggling, laughing my head off, I bring out a chair,
Eileen bends down, her head on the chair, and, with a
flourish I jerk up my own wife's skirt while she
spreads her legs wide as she can for them to peer up
her naked and exposed wide-open hairy little mother's
gash.
When the impossible finally happens in front of their
goggle-eyes, the girl's pussy is swollen and glistening
fiery red as the exposed organ actually drools a string
of pussy wet down her inner thigh, waiting for her red-
faced and shaking husband to drop his pants and jam his
overheated cock up her hole.
How about that! This is 1966 and a cunt bush exposed in
a San Francisco Topless Bar gets some poor girl 30 days
in the slammer. But here's a straight suburban mother
of two small kids getting her pussy pumped for show!
This first Club stag turned out to be Act I in a long,
crazy, bunch of sex acts, all part of these
exhibitionist adventures with Eileen. At first this was
my private sex fun. Performances in deserted places,
pretending I was fucking my wife in front of imaginary
audiences. What I did for private kicks eventually
became real public entertainment.
The sex shows that Eileen gave were unlike anything
seen elsewhere, before or since. Nothing I've ever read
before about stags is like what we did. The point is
that modern swingers are so jaded, do sex so much by
formula, that one whorish gang bang or stag show is
pretty much like the other. Why even bother? They're
all the same. But back then I didn't know there was any
formula for a stag show.
When a Club wanted a formula stag show I told them to
hire some whore. I just didn't know any better. I'd
never seen a stag show. I knew what would be a wild
send-up for me. It turned out to be the same for my
audiences. What gave me kicks gave them kicks. I was an
amateur. The acts that Eileen and I performed blew guys
heads straight away, each stag different at each club,
never the same.
Chapter 13: Just and Old Pervert
--------------------------------
As for me, as I said, I'm just an old Guinea, ugly,
balding, with a hooked nose and double chins. I was
born in 1927 in Little Italy, New York City. I look a
little like Marlon Brando, and felt gypped when he
played the Godfather. That should have been me! I'm
certainly not very attractive, to say the least, very
average in prick size, even under, barely six inches.
Just to cap my physical repulsiveness, I've got this
fat belly hanging over my pants belt. Too much pasta.
So how come I've got this almost hypnotic control over
some very beautiful women, the classy "goody goody"
types? These women, who will do almost anything for me
sexually, are almost always "proper" looking girls and
women. Almost cold-looking. Uptight. They're women who
look like butter wouldn't melt in their mouths.
When I get hold of them, they'll do anything, things
you couldn't believe, things even they couldn't believe
they'd done, afterwards. I mean anything, they turn
into the real pigs. All of these dames look so
inhibited and passive. Never fooled me. I've jammed my
cock into maybe a hundred or so different women in my
sex life. Not a lot, these days.
Often other guys wouldn't look twice at some of these
gals, because the gals were either too shy, too
"plain", not "foxy" enough, or so spectacularly pretty
that they were dubbed "cold fish". If I'd show an
interest in such women often I'd get told by other men
with "superior knowledge" that I'd never get any sex
out of them, not to waste my time. That was their
opinion. But I knew my targets.
Well what's the secret? I think I know. I'm in many
ways a lot like my Italian mother, I even talk like my
mother. I think I act sort of feminine, almost
"faggoty", in many ways. Like a fat old Italian lady,
almost like that comedian sidekick of Burt Reynolds.
Dom Delouise. But all I can think about, night and day,
is fucking women. But only certain kinds of women.
Women who like macho men never ever give me a second
glance. The bitches. They can't stand me. And I can't
stand them. It's mutual. But women who are drawn to
other women, who don't want to compete with other
women, the way the bitches do, these gals absolutely
accept me, totally. And trust me, totally. It disarms
them. I'm a wolf in sheep's clothing. That's the nub of
it, right there.
In their guts these women seem to accept me as just
another kind of woman. It's funny, sort of, peculiar. I
talk recipes, and housework and other woman things,
around woman, and always, "feelings". I'm very
sensitive on that point. Lot's of women feel "mothered"
by me. Passive women.
I've got a woman's sensitivity, and frankly, some of
the women I've made love to say I make love to a woman
as if I were another woman, except for this odd fact
that I need to get my cock sucked, more than anything
else. They say that I seem to love every single part of
a woman's body. I do. Except for women who don't take
proper hygienic care of their pussies. I can't stand
cheesy smelling pussies.
Since the age of six I've been bugged on women's naked
bodies, on seeing erect pricks stuck into, or rubbing
against cunts and tits and asses. Or on seeing guys
standing around with erect cocks, leering at naked
ladies. Can you believe this, at six years of age I was
totally turned on by sex? At six years old, a sex
fiend??! I've always spent 25 hours a day thinking
about sex.
I practically go out of my skull, panting with my
tongue out of my mouth, to see cock jammed into a
pretty girl's mouth. The first time I ever looked at my
innocent wife all I could imagine was how she'd look
with my cock disappearing into that pretty little
mouth.
Chapter 14: Conning Eileen into Stag Show Greatness
---------------------------------------------------
From the time my wife Eileen was 18, in 1960, till that
incredible first stag show, in 1966, I'd gradually
manipulated the little dummy into doing progressively
more outrageous sex acts for me. Like first getting her
to suck cock. And then teaching her how to really suck
prick till it made the hair on my balls bristle. And
then teaching her to love getting a cock into her
mouth. And the same for eating and swallowing cum.
Eileen often said that she'd do anything, anything for
me, just to see me beaming at her with this enormously
happy face. Usually I look pretty serious. Not mad, but
serious. I rarely smile. When I first started training
my Irish innocent, sexually, I'd never planned that, at
some time in the future, I'd end up showing off my
naked Irish honey in front of crowds of men, fucking
and sucking my cock.
I surely never planned that I'd eventually be
exhibiting my wife having sex with me, and then, with
more and more elaborate stag actor groups, and
exhibitionistic sex circuses, and that the act would
happen over and over again, in so many different
places, with so many varieties of settings.
When I married the 18 year old, in 1960, her belly full
of my child, I couldn't have envisioned that a mere six
years later I'd be encouraging one audience after
another to fuck her holes en masse. If you'd pardon the
joke, the chance to fuck my wife in front of a bunch of
guys didn't just fall into my lap. We went on a long
wandering sexual journey before we ended up doing
stags.
Without my knowing it at the time, I got some
unexpected help out of Eileen's past, when it came to
conning the girl into having live sex before a crowd.
She'd never let on, until we'd been doing stags for a
while, that she'd been seduced as an 11 year old pre-
pubescent girl into showing off her pussy to a bunch of
masturbating little Jewish pigs.
I think that one of the things that encouraged Eileen
to go along with my stag shows was that it gave her the
chance to re-live over and over that early pussy show
she gave. My opinion. Eileen's early exhibitionism gave
me a "leg up", if you will pardon the terrible dirty
pun, in worming my wife into giving sex shows.
What started as one stag show didn't stop there. In
spite of all the filthy things she was conned into
doing with her pussy and her mouth in front of shocked
and delighted audiences, and you'll read about them,
there is a strange irony, which my "customers" always
commented to me about, after they had witnessed one of
her shows.
Eileen never acted twisted, or whorish. She looked and
acted like a freshman high school cheerleader.
Exclusively male audience were invariably stunned
watching a pretty little thing like her with a huge
black cock pumping off gobs of cum into her mouth,
while another black guy would hold his big black club
in his fist, jamming the monster up into the little
housewife's cunt. It always looked like it was the
first time this outrageous thing had ever been
perpetrated on her, almost as if her husband had
arranged for her to be raped by two black studs in
front of an audience.
What gave the entire thing its kick was the way I often
compounded the perversion, before the performance, by
giving slide shows of Eileen derived from our family
album, or home movies, showing our wedding and her life
as an ordinary mother at home with her kids.
If you don't mind the aside, a pussy is just a pussy.
It's like food. Without the hype, without the enormous
drama I concocted around Eileen's stag, as a real
showman at these performances, there would've been
nothing there. If I feed you hamburger in McDonalds,
big deal! If I give you a beautiful waitress, and red
walls, and soft lights, and a little sauce, this same
crappy meat becomes "the experience of a lifetime".
Bring in a whore to a stag, and it is pure
"yawnsville". Who really gives a shit? So she's going
to fuck every cock in the place. Big deal! That's what
she does for a living. The girl is bored, the audience
is bored.
Who the fuck cares, these days. You have to keep
looking for bigger and bigger "gimmicks". What the hell
is so special about watching fucking, unless there's
some kind of "hook", something that gets you in the
gut. Which is why practically all the porno I see these
days is totally, completely predictable, and the most
boring, yawn-inducing crap in the world.
So, because my audiences knew Eileen was an ordinary
housewife, and a mother, it brought up their pricks
straight and eager to be fucking the woman. In
contrast, regular whore stag shows were conducted with
the dregs, the really burned out whores who just
couldn't give a damn.
Because Eileen was so conventional, in both the
everyday style of her life, and in appearance, well
that was the ultimate kick for all of us, for Eileen,
for me, and for the fortunate Clubs that went along
with my very stringent conditions.
Chapter 15: Young Eileen, Preparation
-------------------------------------
Let me see if I can give you an insight into the girl,
herself. Eileen had grown up in a relatively stable
home, even if it wasn't too happy, with parents who
were strangers to each other. She'd had a mostly
uneventful childhood, without any abuse. The little
girl had never been spanked or heard a voice raised in
anger against her. And with the few Irish Nannies that
Mumsy hired, when Eileen was under 6, that was quite an
accomplishment.
Mumsy had a thing about violence, so she handed her
child over to these very gentle and docile Irish woman
from the Old Country, which is also why Eileen hung
onto her brogue, even though she was brought up in NYC.
The women were tickled pink to have in their hands a
very well-trained little puppy of a girl like Eileen.
Then, later, Eileen had another brand of Nanny. That
was after she was over the age of six. These Nannies
were lusty, hearty Jamaican women. With accents that
resembled her own Irish Brogue. Eileen remembers these
women with great love. Because she had these frankly
sexual, lustful black women in her early upbringing I
think it encouraged a hidden rebellious streak in
Eileen.
It gave her a chance to give only surface obedience to
the strict Catholic upbringing she got, while inside
she was felt more like a little Jamaican savage. That
freedom more or less neutralized the fearful Catholic
background in which she was growing up.
Eileen remembers these women as being very uninhibited
about their nudity around her. They encouraged her to
go nude in front of them. When she was a little six
year old girl, still impressionable. Eileen described
to me the thrill of disrobing in front of them, and
wanting very much to disrobe in front of her mother, to
shock Mumsy.
That's why Eileen worked with me so cooperatively the
time I conned her mother to join us in a nudist camp,
with our kids, as a "family". That experience allowed
Eileen to live out a fantasy. Without Eileen helping me
manipulate her mother into the deal it would never have
been pulled off.
Anyway, these Jamaican Nannies of Eileen's had big
asses, and were always telling Eileen that she must be
a little black girl, under her white skin and blue
eyes, because her bum was built just like theirs. She'd
be brought to their houses, during the days, sometimes,
before supper, and it was an erotic and free-wheeling
atmosphere, with lots of rum, and lots of men "feeling
up" the women, in the most casual way.
Eileen thought she may have actually witnessed
something like a real sex act, but was never able to
recall exactly what had gone on, it's all fuzzy in her
mind. On the other hand the experience wasn't
remembered as unpleasant, it was more something that
happened in the heat of the moment, accompanied by a
lot of friendly laughter by her Nanny, Constance.
Maybe that's why it was so easy for Eileen to fuck
black studs with huge cocks, when I finally conned her
into doing stags with black studs, because of that
early pleasant experience she remembered.
My wife's fondest memories from childhood were those of
her summers in Camp, spent in the company of other
kids. Mumsy was very stingy about some things, in spite
of the high-class upbringing she arranged for her kid.
Eileen's mother found it "an injustice" to pay "real
money" to send her kid to a camp. So, to save money
Mumsy sent Eileen to an uncharacteristically "un-posh"
charity-sponsored camp. The place was liberally
peppered with black kids, also lots of Jewish kids from
liberal homes.
From the time Eileen was six or seven years old till
she was 16, when she was made a junior counselor,
Eileen had a lot of immature weenie to ponder over,
because kids used to run around naked in the bunks,
though the initially shy Eileen never partook, in her
earliest years.
Boy, did the little girl ever take it in with her eyes!
Eileen never got over her curiosity about penises, from
then on. And she confessed to me that, as a little girl
at these camps, she was utterly fascinated by black
cocks, based on having seen them when they were just
"sprouts".
Without knowing it, I even exploited those happy
sensual camp memories to give me totally outrageous
pleasure, when we were deeply involved in my more
obsessive and risky sex adventures. That was when I had
my wife perform sex with under-age pre-teen boys. When
Eileen was sucking on a 12 or 13 year old boy's erect
penis, or guiding it into her mother-sized pussy hole
she'd flush beet-red.
It was a sensation for the kids who were getting sucked
off, or for members of an audience watching her perform
fellatio on a young cock, to witness her blushing, to
have visible proof of her deep embarrassment. It really
enhanced a sex performance beyond measure.
Eileen made no bones about it to me, she'd discovered
that the sensation of sucking off a kid's cock was the
most intense orgasmic sex she'd ever experienced in her
life. It was almost like the dirty movie, Deep Throat;
Eileen claimed that a young cock shooting off a load
into her mouth brought her off to orgasm, all she
needed was to have her finger resting lightly as a
feather on her clit at the same time, just brushing her
clit, and bang! that was it, Eileen's pussy would be
coming over and over and over again, getting wet as a
shower when there was an ejaculation by an immature
penis into her mouth.
Eileen confessed to me way later, after she'd had sex
with young boys, that she'd gotten these deep crushes
on little boys, like barely pre-pubescent boys, or just
pubescent boys, during the times she'd been in camp,
even though she'd been younger than they were, like
when she was in the seven to ten year age bracket. Even
as a grown women such newly pubescent boys stimulated
her, sexually, even though she'd never even mentioned
it to me.
Getting turned on by twelve year old boys was Eileen's
deepest, darkest secret, the one feeling about which
she had the greatest shame, but it was also like a
time-bomb, when it came to one of our performances.
This hidden part of Eileen only came to the surface
after she'd had sex with immature males at some of the
freakier things I'd arranged, in the latter part of our
sex adventures. Eileen derived an interesting insight
from this, and an understanding of some male
perversion. She said that, if she got so much intensity
from her relations with young boys, then, for the first
time she could understand why "dirty old men" might get
some outrageously strong reaction to sex with young
girls, though that didn't mean she could approve. She
just understood it, personally.
Eileen, as an only child was mostly neglected and left
in the hands of these Nannies. Eileen's father almost
completely ignored her. Mumsy was preoccupied with
dragging Eileen to social functions. Mumsy actually
sent her daughter to a school to be trained in "proper"
manners, to be, in Mumsy's words, " a real lady". Mumsy
succeeded. But Mumsy never got to know her daughter as
a real person.
Eileen behaved the way she was supposed to, acting like
perfect little lady on the outside. Mumsy accepted the
right behavior from Eileen, insisted on it, but behind
Mumsy's back Eileen was always rebelling against Mumsy
in sneaky ways, which gave the little girl pleasure.
Eileen recalled for me, once an incident from when she
was 13 or 14 years old. During those times she often
would masturbate with Mumsy's hairbrush handle, and not
wash it off. One kick Eileen got from the twisted sex
acts I had her perform was when she'd kid me, giggling
over the idea of "what the neighbors would think if
they knew", and likewise what her mother would feel, if
she ever knew what her "sweet" little girl was doing.
It gave the Eileen an enormous emotional jolt, doing
the forbidden and totally outrageous behind Mumsy's
back. It also allowed me to make my impossible
fantasies real.
I knew none of this from the start, it all became
revealed much later. I think if I'd known at the time
how rebellious she was about Mumsy, consciously, and
not so intrigued with how clever I was in seducing
Eileen into performing, I probably could've worked out
an even more exciting hype, with Eileen's cooperation,
on the way I exploited her Mumsy's nude photo, at
stags.
From that enlightened perspective I suspect that it
would've given Eileen a great huge kick to know that,
behind her Mumsy's back, I had dirty old men slobbering
over photos of her Mumsy's nudeness.
Eileen grew up pretty straight in the way she behaved,
considering. Out of necessity the young Eileen had
developed tight friendships with both boys and girls
her own age, her peers, like most of the kids growing
up today. Since she was born in New York, in Manhattan,
and raised in a mixed ethnic neighborhood, the boys she
was friendly with were mostly Jewish boys.
That's because the Irish Catholic males she went to
school with were tough little bastards who hated all
manner of females. They mostly punched the girls out,
behind the Sister's backs, or treated them with
contempt. The Jewish boys who went to the public
schools, and who the little Irish adventurer Eileen had
been attracted to as a young girl, they were like
forbidden fruit to Eileen. She confessed to me that
they almost seemed like women, underneath.
Eileen also confessed to me her impressions of
practically all the Italian boys she'd ever met, except
for me. Eileen felt that Italian men were insincere,
scheming, basically untrustworthy, with hidden violence
underneath. She said that she'd never, ever sensed that
violent quality in me. Eileen said that, as a matter of
fact, I'd reminded her more of the Jewish boys she had
been charmed with.
Well, we both grew up in New York, which was loaded
with Jews. Maybe she caught that quality in me because
I hung around with Jewish kids a lot, when I was young.
They were the only ones with wild sex ideas in their
heads who mouthed off about sex. Italian kids were just
crude and vulgar. In fact I was the first Italian male
Eileen had ever let inside the charmed circle. Also the
first older person. I was her substitute Daddy.
But Eileen sure missed the boat on my scheming, or
maybe she actually got a kick out of it. I certainly
was not trustworthy when it came to manipulating her so
I could get my perverted sex needs met. On the other
hand I was sort of trustworthy about protecting her
reputation. It was in my own best interest to keep the
sex game in business.
I walked a very slender line in how well I kept the
secret. I always got excited over the prospect of
exposing Eileen's activities to friends and neighbors.
However, I never went the distance, only because of the
mental damage that I feared this exposure might cause
to my little kids.
Chapter 16: Impact on Our Kids
------------------------------
I needn't have bothered, as it turned out. Actually,
our kids were tougher than I thought. They told me,
when they were grown, that they'd caught on to the main
thrust of what the two of us were doing, it wasn't that
big a secret from them. They'd overheard things, in
spite of all of our efforts.
Little kids have big ears. As far as they were
concerned we were just their Mom and their Dad, and
that was it. For instance they, all three of the kids,
knew that their Dad, for one thing, took fuck photos of
their Mommy. They evidently hadn't made a big deal of
that fact.
It didn't mean anything, good or bad to them. They had
no sex curiosity at the time, or so they said to me as
adults, so the photos and "those other things" were
just something that their Mom and Dad, as "big people",
did, just more silliness, as far as they were
concerned.
What surprised me more though, was that my son told me
that those kids had known for years that I'd been
having his mother "have sex", in his words, with other
men. He'd evidently overheard me once, when he was
about eight years old, talking enthusiastically, but
incautiously, to some contact at a Club. Evidently I'd
assumed he was asleep, and had carelessly left my
living room door partially open, instead of locking it.
I'd been very explicit as to what his mother was going
to do at the party, so my kid had a clear picture of
what went on, though none of it made much real sense to
him.
So if we'd been "exposed" this would've been nothing
new to the kiddos. As a kid my son claimed that he'd
made a kind of "kid's sense" out of the conversation.
It sort of bowled me over that my son had known in a
very vague way what the purpose of our trips was, when
his Grandma baby-sat the three kids during these over-
night and over week-end stag show excursions.
It was after I'd split with his mother. Here he was, in
his twenties, telling me these things. These incredible
youngsters didn't make any big deal of it. They'd
always played Mickey the Dunce with the two of us, for
our benefit. As they explained it to me much later,
individually, when they were young adults, we two were
the only parents they had, and they adored us, no
matter what we did for our sexual amusement.
They loved us for the way we brought them up. They'd
never been physically punished, and had only rarely
experienced a cross word spoken to them. All three of
our kids appreciated how much we played with them as
they were growing up, and how we always treated them
adoringly. And they'd returned the love, and the trust.
As a matter of fact our kids confessed to us, when
they'd matured to young adulthood, that they always
felt they'd been treated with exceptional love and
affection, compared to their playmates. Their friends
often told them how much they envied them their
parents.
So no matter how freaky the rest of the world would've
thought we were, these kids were loyal, they were
really very strong little kids. Anyway, the possibility
of having our kids learn about our secret activities
kept me somewhat in line.
That line disappeared when Eileen deserted me and
destroyed my porno collection of her photos.
END
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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. 4-million people around the world
contract HIV every year. You only have one body per
lifetime, so take good care of it!
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Kristen's collection - Directory 63