On the road with Sarah

IT WAS obvious my Saturday afternoon watching football on the television was going by the wayside when Sarah came downstairs wearing her black mini skirt and pink bootlace top. I looked up at her from the sofa and saw her standing there, draped all seductively against the door jamb, her eyes heavy-lidded as she pouted at me.

A quick glance told me she was braless beneath the skimpy top, and a flick of the eyes further down to her shoes indicated my wife was in the mood for some adventure.

I let my gaze linger on her legs for a second, my cock uncurling when I saw the dark covering of what I knew would be hold-up stockings. “Okay, Sarah,” I said, looking into her smirk. “What’s your mood?”

*

SARAH SAT in the back seat of the car while I tooled along the dual-carriageway of the A12 towards London. She had the window open ready for when I spotted a likely prospect up ahead.

“I’ve got one, babe,” I said, and saw Sarah’s curly black hair come into view through the rear-view mirror when she sat up to look through the gap between the front seats.

“Get past and slow down,” my wife instructed, telling me to do what I already intended to do. “Then let him overtake.”

I powered the car past the truck, a furniture removal vehicle judging by the look of it. Perfect because that meant there was more than likely to be a passenger, humping furniture in and out of houses is more than a one-man job, which meant the man in the passenger seat would get a good look at my wife’s big tits as the truck lumbered past after I’d pulled back in to the inside lane.

Sarah slid across the back seat to the left hand side of the car as I overtook the furniture lorry the window on that side coming down. I couldn’t see if the driver spotted Sarah flashing her breasts as we sped by, but my wife’s delighted yelp told me it had been a score.

“Pull back in!” Sarah cried, squeaking excitedly, thrilled by the attention.

I know my wife, and I knew that she would be breathing hard and probably squeezing her breasts as her arousal bubbled between her legs. Sarah was on it, all fired up to flash her breasts at random truck drivers, and I also knew there would be only one outcome acceptable to my wife when she was all revved up – I would have to stop somewhere and give her the good news. Sarah would insist on risky outdoor sex somewhere. She would be rubbing her pussy and whining at me to pull over and shag her and, to be honest, I was more than happy to oblige.

Sarah is a very highly-sexed lady and has been my wife for nearly twenty years. She’s forty-two years old and ripe and voluptuous, very curvy with lovely round breasts that I love to feel in the palms of my hands. I love feeling the weight of Sarah’s big tits, especially when I’m fucking into her pussy from behind and she’s muttering all her dirty fantasies at me, her buttocks slapping against my thighs with meaty thwacks.

I could tell, way back in the day when I first met Sarah, that she was a very dirty girl. She had a look about her, a kind of knowing smirk and a glint in her eyes that I recognised straight away. I knew she would be a filthy mare who loved cock just by looking at her, but she surprised me by just how adventurous she could be.

It was fantastic when we were first wed. I had Sarah’s gorgeous body available to me all the time and she was very generous with it, only too happy to fuck or offer her pussy to me to suck. Even back then Sarah kept her vulva smooth, and it was great to lick her to orgasm before climbing aboard and riding the arse off her.

Of course two kids slowed her down a bit, put the brakes on our sex life for a time. We still went at it like mad things, but there was no more fucking her all over the house whenever the fancy took us, which was often, but we did okay in those leaner years.

Then, when the boys began to drift away, spending weekends away from home, getting away with their own circle of friends, when the opportunities for hot, uninhibited sex with my gorgeous wife came around more often, that’s when Sarah really surprised me.

One day she just came out with it. We were sitting in the living room watching some television when Sarah told me up front she fancied getting other people involved in our sex life. I just sat there with my mouth hanging open, a weird feeling going through me. Sharing my wife with other men didn’t appeal, not at first, but then Sarah laughed and told me she didn’t mean she just wanted some strange for herself, she also meant I could fuck other women.

I was still dubious about it all until Sarah brought one of her friends round one evening when the boys were away, but by the time the next morning rolled around, after a robust night of fucking two very energetic, very enthusiastic women, and having seen them go at each other as well, I was game on for it.

That was the beginning, and since then Sarah and I have had some fantastic adventures. We’ve been on hedonistic holidays where partner swapping and group sex was all part of the deal. I’ve fucked some lovely ladies since we embraced the new lifestyle, some a few years older and some a few years younger. I’ve watched Sarah take on three men simultaneously, and she’s been involved with me and two other girls, a memorable occasion which culminated in me spraying jizm over their collective breasts before they got to business with each other. We’ve been dogging, to swingers’ clubs and have hosted parties, and that afternoon Sarah wanted to be out on the road flashing to lorry drivers.

So there we were on the A12, the furniture truck behind us as I slowed and made it clear I wanted it to overtake the car. Then, as I matched the truck’s speed for a mile or two, Sarah let it all hang out, giving the passenger a show.

“I’m so fucking horny,” Sarah called out to me from the back of the car, the slipstream slapping her words around. “Pull over soon, Rob. Find somewhere soon.”

*

AS IT happened I knew a place. It was a car repair centre a mile down the road after the next junction. The place had been closed for a few months, probably the victim of the latest economic crisis, but it was out of the way and there was a yard at the back where we could park up and have some fun. It wasn’t completely private, there was the risk that someone would use it as a turnaround spot if they were lost, but that’s what got my wife all hot anyway, the potential for being caught out with her knickers down and my cock fucking into her.

So I indicated and steered into the slip road leading off the dual-carriageway. And when I glanced in the rear-view mirror I noticed the truck, either by fluke or design, was taking the same exit.

“They’re following,” I said to Sarah.

My wife squirmed around and looked over the parcel shelf and out of the rear window. “Let them,” she said, her eyes catching my look through the mirror. “Is it far?”

I shook my head. “Just down here,” I replied.

“I saw Sarah’s head turn again. “They’re back there,” she squeaked. “Don’t lose them.”

Which is why, a few seconds after I turned into the yard of the old repair centre, a lumbering truck followed us in, parking across the yard behind our car, its bulk blocking the view of any casual passer-by from the corner by the road.

I got out of the car just as Sarah climbed from the rear. Then my wife stood there, posing with her fists on her hips, her hot-eyed stare on the windscreen of the truck. The driver’s door opened and a man climbed down, his boots crunching on the small stones on the broken and weed-strewn tarmac. When he turned I saw a man I estimated to be in his mid-fifties. He was bald, his shaved head on a thick neck supported on wide shoulders, brawny arms covered with tattoos, his body compact inside a dark tee-shirt as he grinned at my wife. Next, the passenger appeared, a young bloke in his early twenties with neat, dark hair and a powerful physique. He paused for a moment, looking from Sarah to me and then back at her again before he slowly walked around the front of the truck, gulping when he saw Sarah’s challenging stance.

“Hello, boys,” my wife breathed. “Have you come to see me?”

The older man threw a cautious glance at me. “Is that okay?” he asked. “We don’t want any aggro, but after seeing you on the road…” The man shrugged and pulled a face. “Well, you know,” he added.

“Would you like to see more?” Sarah asked. She thrust her chin out towards me. “Don’t worry about Rob,” she said. “He’s my husband. He’s all right with all this. He gets his share of fun.” Sarah chuckled, a dark, treacly sound that I knew well. She was definitely on her way to baring it all for her audience. I knew she’d be soaking between her legs, and I could see her nipples poking through the filmy top she wore.

The older man glanced at the young bloke. “The thing is,” he said, his voice creaking with some undefined emotion, “This is my son.”

“Oh my God,” breathed Sarah. She looked at the young man, staring at him with undisguised yearning. “So,” she asked after a pause of a few beats, “am I going to get some father and son action?”

Then Sarah lifted her skirt to reveal her pink knickers, the colour matching her top.

The young man gaped at my wife’s plump pudendum packed into her underwear, swallowing before his jaw dropped and he threw a look at his father.

“Fucking hell,” the old man muttered beside his son. “I’d love some of that.”

Sarah laughed and hooked her thumbs into the fragile waistband of her underwear, pulling the front of her knickers down far enough to show the men her smooth vulva. Then, smirking, she turned and leaned forward, bending at the waist, legs straight as she lowered the scrap of pink cloth to her feet. Sarah paused and let both men get a look at her buttocks and the mollusc of her pussy at the concavity at the top of her thighs. Then, rising again she glanced over her shoulder, grinning at those gape-mouthed stares as she lifted one shoe and then the other and stepped out of her underwear.

My wife picked up her knickers and bunched them in her fist, turning back to face the men. “Like what you see, boys?” she said, thrusting her hips forward, her fingers splitting her labia as she squeezed one breast with her other hand.

Sarah turned around yet again, flaunting her plump buttocks, her skirt round her waist, stocking tops dark against her thighs.

“Wow,” the young man muttered. “She’s sexy.”

After showing off her rounded rear end, my wife then turned to face us again. She winked at me and blew the younger man a kiss before she slid the bootlace straps of her top down her arms and let her big breasts swing free.

“I think I want to suck some cock,” Sarah breathed, her hands squeezing breast-flesh, her weighty tits spilling over her palms as she hefted them both, jiggling her tits as she smirked and blew a kiss to the father. “Come on, Rob,” she said to me. “Get your cock out and I’ll show these lads what they can have.”

I went to my wife, kissing her and mauling her breasts as she unzipped me. Then Sarah squatted and, as she rubbed a hand between her legs, groaning and rolling her eyes, she held my erection and tugged it for a few strokes.

“Shit,” I heard the old man gasp when Sarah’s lips pursed over my cock-head. “Oh shit, oh fucking hell.”

Sarah was gomming at me, really slurping and slobbering and generally exaggerating everything as she did her best to spike the father and son into action.

“Oh fuck,” my wife mewled, her tits wobbling as she rubbed at herself. “I’m so fucking horny. I want to fuck. I want to suck cock and fuck.” She stood up and kissed me again. “Rob,” Sarah moaned, her gaze hot and heavy-lidded, her lips slack with desire, “fuck me, babe. Fuck me from behind.” She hip-swayed over to the car and rested her elbows on the bonnet, her hips thrust rearward in invitation. Then she reached back and pulled at one buttock, her fingertips spreading herself open, the roundel of her sphincter winking, her meaty labia dangling as her cunt pouted and glistened.

I went to her, giving the men a quick glimpse of my wife’s cerise pussy before I was inside her, my hands reaching for her tits.

The father came at her first. He unfastened his jeans and hauled out a thick cock all knobbled and gnarled with criss-cross veins. The man’s dick looked like a branch off a tree, a terrible cudgel of a thing that had Sarah gurgling with pleasure as she shifted around side on to the car, my cock wedged inside her as I held her hips. She reached for that erection and muttered about how thick it was, her greedy stare soaking up every detail before she fisted its length and then, leaning in, her knees locked, my cock inside her, Sarah sucked the bulging purple dome at its tip.

The son came over soon after my wife began sucking his father’s cock. “Shit, Dad,” he mumbled. “This is so fucking weird.”

“Yeah,” the older man muttered. “But just look at her.”

“I love it,” my wife snarled as she tossed her head to flick the dark curls of her hair from her face. “Father and son…” She worked at both cocks, her fists moving over male gristle while I thrust into Sarah, her buttocks rolling and jiggling as she stood there braced on locked knees, the soles of her high heels scraping on the tiny, loose stones underfoot. “Fuck me, Rob,” my wife mewled. “Slam my pussy, babe.”

Sarah slurped at the son’s cock, really giving him a show as she let her tongue slide from the root of his dick up to the head. I knew she would be staring him right in the eyes, that devilish glint on him as she gave the young man the benefit of her crooked smirk.

Then she was at the father again, gomming at him, taking as much of that big fucker as she could into her gullet, deep-throating the man until she gagged and coughed and spat silvery ropes of drool over his knob-head.

It didn’t take much to set the son off. Sarah was tugging at him, her tongue flicking at the banjo-string of his frenulum when he let out a blurt of surprise and flicked a long spurt of jizm into my wife’s hair.

Sarah yelped in shock, flinching back as another spurt of thick goo spattered across her brow and the bridge of her nose. The rest of the boy’s outpouring splattered onto the tarmac, with Sarah squealing and wanking away, her eyes on the stuff spurting out of the young man’s cock.

“Oh, you dirty fucking bastard,” Sarah growled, her fist squeezing the final ooze from the young man’s penis before she leaned in low to suck at it. “He’s come in my hair!” my wife complained.

Sarah might not have been too impressed with taking those squirts of jizm in her hair and on her face, but she was soon moaning and panting and grunting out she was coming herself as she fingered her clitoris, smearing the boy’s semen that had squirted onto her hand over her vulva while I kept on fucking into her.

Then it was my turn. I couldn’t hold myself in check, not with Sarah’s insides squeezing my dick, and especially not after seeing her lovely face despoiled by the young man’s excited delivery when she glanced back at me, her eyes glazed and heavy-lidded as she mumbled at me to fuck her.

I knew Sarah would be hot for more cock so I pulled out of her and poured my lust onto her buttocks. I was tugging at myself, watching my own gloop spatter onto Sarah’s arse cheeks as she gasped and writhed and moaned, her own orgasm hitting her hard.

Even as the stuff was seeping out of me I stepped back and nodded at my wife. The older man growled, seeing my gesture as the invitation it was and grabbing Sarah’s arm so he could drag her to the back of the truck.

Sarah stumbled along behind him, her heels unsteady on the uneven tarmac, her breasts shivering and swaying as she moved.

My wife stood there unsure as the man slid two bolts back and eased the long ramp down to reveal the cavernous interior of the furniture van. “Get in,” he growled, tugging his cock as he nodded towards the ramp.

Sarah peered into the opening before she stepped gingerly onto the board, again tottering unsteadily in those shoes.

She disappeared into the gloom, the man following, with the son and me climbing in after a brief pause.

When I got there I saw my wife on her hands and knees on a pile of blankets the men must use as padding during removals. The man was behind her, his hips going back and forth, his hands on Sarah’s hips.

“Give it to her, Dad,” I heard the young man say, and when I glanced at him I saw he was fondling his resurgent penis, the cock growing thicker and longer even as I looked at it.

By then my wife was going for it. She was gasping and moaning, twisting around so she could urge the man to fuck her, a potty-mouthed torrent of obscenity that told me Sarah was gearing up to another intense climax.

For the next quarter of an hour I watched the two men fucking Sarah, the old man going at her first, really fucking into my wife until he grunted he was coming. As the man buckled at the waist, his fingers digging into Sarah’s hips, his son called out that he wanted to give Sarah the good news too. When he heard his son’s urgent appeal that he shouldn’t come inside her Sarah, the old man pulled out and drenched my wife’s back with semen, the heavy outpouring staining the rope of her pink top that was bunched around her waist. After that the son went at my wife, his exuberant thrusts driving into Sarah after he had had rolled her onto her back, with Sarah shrieking and giggling, legs sprawling as he roughly manoeuvred her into the position he wanted.

My wife’s shoes waggled around crazily as she held her feet off the blankets, her legs folded at the knees, her pussy angled up to her youthful lover’s piston of a cock. Sarah was babbling on about how hard the young man’s dick was inside her; she was burbling about his body, the muscles in his arms and his tight buttocks that she squeezed with both hands, pulling the boy into herself while her own arse cheeks bunched and flexed and rippled with effort.

Sarah kissed the boy, her tongue in his mouth as she gasped and whined, mewling she was going to come and come and come.

The young man didn’t seem to mind my wife’s jizm spattered cheek, his own grunts echoing inside the big square space inside the truck, Sarah’s squeals of delight mixed in.

Then he sobbed out he was going to do it again, collapsing on top of Sarah, his second climax coming out of him in bursts of hot breath and gasped comments about how beautiful Sarah was, how he wanted to fuck into her again.

My wife lay on top of the blankets, the young man’s semen dribbling from her opening while she sucked in deep breaths, her spent lover panting beside her, his eyes full of awe as he gazed at the carnage.

We left those men with Sarah’s phone number scrawled on a piece of paper the father had grabbed from the cab of the truck. They were going back to their yard to drop off the vehicle before rushing back up the A12 in their car, eager for a night of more fun with my voluptuous and very willing wife.

“See you later, lads,” Sarah breathed, kissing both men on the cheek before she sauntered across the yard to our car, her bare backside jiggling, buttocks wobbling, her hips swinging with that exaggerated roll caused by her high heels and Sarah’s own desire to provoke a positive reaction from the two men staring after her.

“Pass my mobile,” my wife said as she sat in the passenger seat of the car, her breasts bare, her face crusted with dried semen. “I’ll call Emma. I’ll see if she’s busy and invite her over if she’s not,” she added. “You can have some fun with that two dirty bitch while I tag-team the father and son again.”

And that’s why I love my wife, because she makes sure I’m looked after before she attends to her own needs.

“Perfect,” I said, grinning at the thought of those the sassy twenty-five year old Essex blonde on my cock while my wife got her double serving of sausage.

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