Ordinarily I wouldn't have been upset by my husband's infidelity. After all we had never been monogamous and both of us enjoyed the excitement of an extramarital flirtation. We had enjoyed dabbling in the swinging scene and visited a couple of clubs. He was turned on by my adventures with other men and encouraged me to be 'easy.' The only unspoken rule was that all our extracurricular activity was outside our 'normal' circle of friends and acquaintances. As far as they were concerned we were a typical suburban couple, good fun, but hardly outrageous. It was at a party with our 'normal' friends that I discovered that Gary, (my husband) was not quite playing by the rules. While sitting knickers round my ankles on the loo, I overheard a conversation between two of the other women. Perhaps they were unaware they could be heard, maybe they didn't care. Anyway the jist of the news was that my husband was shagging Sheila and that really it was no surprise. 'After all, although Lesley (me) is attractive, she's a bit straight laced.' Apparently Gary had made this comment, when complimenting her on her sexual enthusiasm. 'What a bastard.' I doubted Sheila's attitude to sex was as experimental as mine and her tits were droopy to boot. The thing that really pissed me off though, was that she was one of those people who would delight in scoring points over me. No wonder she had seemed so smug earlier. I knew she disliked me and it made me spit to think that Gary had allowed her this opportunity to gloat. She would be unaware that such dalliances were an everyday feature of our lifestyle and that she was just one of many. Unfortunately I couldn't let her know this without making our private indiscretions public. When I recalled the fuss he made when I had a brief liaison with a guy I met at a disco, but who lived about a mile from us, I was even more livid. He had whinged on and on about how the guy was too close to home, how he might talk etc. It's a bit different now, I thought ruefully. Subconsciously I was already considering how I might turn the tables. For the rest of the evening I maintained my sweetest disposition and resolved to bide my time. Revenge they say is a dish best enjoyed cold. It was a couple of months before an opportunity to obtain retribution presented itself. I had managed to keep my cool and my husband was still blissfully unaware that I knew of his latest 'bit on the side' or that I was seriously annoyed. We were out one evening, when Gary took a call from someone from work. It was after eight, and I enquired who was working so late. 'It's Donk the driver, he's on a late delivery, and was just confirming he'd got the parts to the customer.' Gary began to laugh and explained that Donk was short for Donkey Dick the guy's nickname. 'According to the women in the factory he's got a huge chopper' he continued 'and spreads it about a bit. Mind you they're not the classiest lot of women in our machine shop.' he sniggered 'Then again, he's no oil painting.' 'Sometimes,' I thought 'you're such a snob' but I said nothing. My husband went on to enlarge humorously on the rumoured antics of 'Donk' and his conquests for the rest of the evening. Though Gary was obviously hugely amused by how eager a variety of 'wives' had been to make themselves available to this well-endowed but, in his words 'scarecrow' of a bloke, I was sure he wouldn't be chuckling if his, and again using his words 'classy' wife, was a notch on 'Donk's headboard. 'Mmm.' I had the beginning of an idea. The more I thought about it, the more intriguing it became. How to get off with DD, let the news leak to Gary but without it becoming general knowledge that the manager's wife was getting shafted by the company driver. Over a couple of weeks I managed, by sneakily sifting through Gary's papers, to get a bit of info on DD. His mobile number, and details of his regular runs that sort of thing. Now I needed a strategy to meet him. My husband had only had this job a couple of years and I had not had any occasion to get to know any of the workforce. They didn't know me or anything about me, which at least meant I wouldn't immediately be recognised as the gaffer's missus if events went according to plan. Conveniently I was between jobs, just doing a bit of cover work to keep my hand in, so to speak and so had some time to 'play' during the hours before the kids came home from school. I had worked out that on one day a week my quarry always travelled down the M5 first thing returning depending on 'drops' along the same route sometime after 2.0 o'clock. My first plan was to talk to him on the mobile, pretending I thought I was talking to someone that I knew but then realising I had a wrong number. Once I had spoken to him I was sure that if he was as much of a skirt chaser, as he was portrayed by my husband, the next move would be easy. Plan 'a' worked like a dream. I phoned him when I knew he was on his outward journey. Pretending to respond to a message from a guy trying to chat me up, conveniently also called Brian, (DD's real name) I rattled on, using an assumed name, suggestively for a few minutes before he pulled me up. 'Err, I think you've got the wrong bloke missus' He stammered in his black country whine. I persisted 'You are Brian, aren't you?' He explained and I apologised for my mistake, by which time he was becoming jokey and saying I could call him up any time etc. I rang off. Just after lunch I rang him again. This time we enjoyed a flirtatious little chat. I asked him where he was he replied 'approaching Frankley Services' 'what a coincidence so I am I, have you time for a coffee? my treat!' He supposed 'it wouldn't hurt.' Standing in the entrance to the cafeteria I waited first sight of my quarry. I had told him I was a rep for a perfume distributor and had dressed with the intention of knocking him sideways. Teetering on 5inch stiletto navy sandals, I sported a little 'A' line skirt 'just above the knee' and short jacket also in navy, over a low cut strappy cream top. Underneath I'd gone for ivory 'Lejaby' platform bra and French knickers with matching suspender and seamed stockings. Only my opinion but I thought with my size 10, 36b figure I looked every inch the classy sales chick you might see in Rackhams or Beatties. DD approached, and I have to admit my husband's description was no exaggeration. This was indeed a shambolic looking guy. Not short, maybe 5' 10in but unbelievably thin. He wore a scruffy check shirt tucked into a pair of dirty blue work trousers. These were held up with a belt cinched into his waist so tight you thought he may fall in half. His outfit completed with work boots the metal toecaps of which had been lovingly polished. Facially he was a bit Mick Jaggerish I suppose, full lips, and a mop of unkempt dark curly hair. His skin was sallow and though, when he smiled, 'hello,' shyly, I thought, his eyes had a cheeky glint in them, his teeth were a disaster. At least one missing at the front, some crooked and broken and receding gums, Whatever was in his trousers must compensate for some serious disadvantages if Gary's reports of DD's exploits were to be believed. 'Hi Brian.' I offered my hand 'Joanne, Nice to meet you, after our strange telephone misunderstanding.' 'Oh yea' he grinned showing off his teeth to their best effect I thought. Leading him to a table in the cafeteria, I was aware of many eyes following this curious couple and flattered myself the men were perplexed as to how 'Worzel Gummidge' had landed such a stunner. I fetched the coffees and knew my intention had been fulfilled. Brian was clearly mesmerised by my outfit and me. Affecting a bit of a girlish manner, I asked him about is job, where he went, who he worked for etc. He responded enthusiastically, I suppose it was not very often anyone showed such obvious interest. Slipping of my jacket, I leaned forward conspiratorially to afford him an unhindered view of my cleavage.' I've never been in a truck, I bet its such fun being so high up above the traffic. You wouldn't take me for a ride round in yours would you?' He looked at his watch. 'Just for a few minutes?' I pleaded in my best little girl voice. 'Well ok' He agreed 'but it's not very clean and tidy, and there are pictures on the cab wall, you might be offended.' 'I won't,' I insisted and stood up to go. He led the way through the back of the building to the trucker's car park and a blue wagon carrying the logo I knew so well. A few other drivers whistled as we made our way, me almost trotting in my heels to keep up with his ambling stride. Brian opened the passenger side first and stood back to let me climb up. My knee came up to my chin, to reach the first step and I couldn't reach the pull up handle. The hem of the skirt bunched up nicely to expose a fine sight of stocking top and thigh. 'Can you give me a push' I asked. Placing his hands on my hips he almost lifted me into the cab, taking the chance for a look up my skirt I had no doubt. He climbed in the other side, and we were in an instant pulling off the car park via the access road at the rear. He was right, the cab was grimy and smelt of engineering oil, sweat and something else. Brut aftershave. Henry Cooper has a lot to answer for. The picture gallery too was quite explicit. Girls being fucked by huge cocks in the cunt and up the arse, girls covered in sperm and dribbling it from their lips. As we chugged along past the Bell at Belbroughton, I ventured 'Bet you drivers are like sailors, but with a girl in every town.' 'No we don't have the time' laughed Brian. 'but what about hitch hikers, don't you get a ride for a ride?' I persisted trying to get the conversation round to sex. He dismissed this wistfully 'You don't see hitchhikers these days, every woman's got a car.' The truck rounded the island at the end of the carriage way and headed back in the direction we had come from. The 'in car' phone rang. Brian put his finger to his lips and pressed the receive button. 'Where are you Donk?' I heard my husband's voice demand.' Just pulling into the lay-by at Clent for a pee' said my driver, and swung the lorry into a loop off the road where I could see a number of vehicles parked up and a few men drinking tea at a kiosk. He pulled in behind another lorry, so we were obscured from the view of the tea hut. My husband continued 'don't get stopping out knobbing some bird, we need the lorry back to load up tonight.' As their conversation continued I decided to move things along. Sliding to my knees in the cab, I reached to unfasten the belt of Brian's trousers, tugged open his zip and delved into his crotch. No surprise, he wore no underpants. My fingers teased out his thickening cock and I heard the strangled voice of my companion assuring my husband he wouldn't be late just as my lips slipped over the end of his dick pushing back the foreskin as they went. The phone went silent and I sucked deeply on the drivers cock drawing it into my mouth. He was not called 'Donkey' for nothing. Soon I had a hand-span filling my mouth and another being gripped by my fingers. Already my jaw ached from being held open so wide. I felt Brian fumbling at my neck and sat up, not wanting his grubby finger marks on my cream top. 'wait' I instructed sitting on my haunches to remove my jacket, top and bra. Brian used the break to ease his trousers round his ankles then leaned forward to role a nipple between the thumb and forefinger of each hand. 'fucking lovely tits.' he muttered as my mouth once again slipped over his flagpole of a dick. In the great scheme of things big cocks don't matter to me much, but visually I find them a turn on. His jutted out from his scrawny groin in quite an aggressive way its broad head exposed and taut. I bobbed my head up and down on his cock with genuine desire. My victim lay across the passenger seat and I felt his hand tugging my skirt up till it was round my waist, followed by his thick fingers, unhindered by my delicate French knickers, probing my moistening cunt. The phone began to ring again. It rang off then almost immediately sounded again. Abandoning his exploration of my nether regions Brian hit the answer button. Gary's voice again filled the cab as Brian's fingers resumed their manipulation of my clitoris. As he rambled on, Brian's digits suddenly found the spot. I let out an involuntary 'oh yes, that's it' and there was silence on the other end of the phone. My husband's voice demanded 'have you got a bird with you'? I could tell he was more curious than angry, but Brian stuttered a denial as I continued to gobble his cock. A few more words were exchanged when Brian broke off mid-sentence gasping 'bloody hell' as I teased the eye of his dick with my tongue. 'You have got a woman there' shouted Gary. 'What's going on?' Rather sheepishly Brian admitted he was getting a blow job. Instead of pulling rank, my husband the boss wanted to know who she was, how had we met and was Brian going to get a fuck. All this was on loud speaker in the cab and I knew by his voice that Gary was intrigued by the situation. He continued to question my driver about me, what I looked like, what I was wearing and asking Brian to describe what he was doing to me, then encouraging him to 'give her a bloody good fucking.' It was gratifying to hear Brian breathlessly describe me as a classy looking city bird called Joanne he'd met at the services. 'Ask her to say hello to me' said Gary. Lifting my mouth off Brian's engorged bell end, I shouted 'hello' in the posh girly accent I'd affected in my earlier conversation with Brian and hoped my husband wouldn't recognise my voice. Clearly he didn't but was excited by this remote voyeuristic situation and asked me if I regularly got picked up by drivers. 'No' I replied 'but it's always been a fantasy of mine, and today I made it happen. Do you think I'm a bad girl?' 'You're the best sort of girl' responded my husband in a choked voice 'Are you going to let him fuck you?' 'Oh I think I should, don't you? he's got a huge dick, much bigger than my husbands. Do you want to listen and jerk off, while he gives it me?' There was no answer from the phone and I was suddenly aware that Brian's tongue was vigorously lapping at my left nipple in the same rhythm as his fingers stimulating my cunt. He manoeuvred me onto my back along the passenger seats of the cab, pulled off my skirt and knickers and I felt the end of his cock pushing at the greasy folds of my fanny. It slid in without a pause and I was aware of his bollocks resting against my arse. 'Oh that is so good' I exclaimed 'are you still listening Mr. Bossman, your driver has nine inches of fat dick in me and it feels brilliant. Come on big boy fuck me senseless!' With that Brian began to piston his prick in and out of me all the time slurping on my tits with his big lips. I had my one leg over his shoulder and the other foot wedged against the steering column. The springs in the seating squeaked in unison with the squelching of my vagina and the slap of his balls against my behind. As no strings fucks go it was pretty impressive and with the added frisson of having my husband listening and probably wanking, I was well into it meeting every thrust and then clenching the vaginal wall as the drivers thick cock withdrew. No doubt I was muttering and moaning as his tool rammed relentlessly back and forth, but from the phone my unsuspecting husband's voice applauded. 'Go on Donk make her fucking squeal, she's some hot tart, send her home to her husband full of spunk. The dirty slut.' Panting I pushed Brian off. 'Let me turn round, fuck me doggie fashion.' One leg kneeling on the seat the other on the cab floor I bent over to present my arse to his dick. Without ceremony he guided it to the entrance and again bottomed it out in one thrust before recommencing if anything a more frantic pace. My face was against the side window of the cab as he battered my cunt. As he ploughed my thighs and tweaked my nipples, I felt the unmistakable first spasm of orgasm, shuddering in a few more relentless piercings to a full blooded convulsive conclusion. Lipstick smeared the glass as my face distorted against it in unconcerned abandon. Arrg God!!!! I groaned as the wave subsided. He too paused, mid stroke. With a belch of smoke and a rattling roar the diesel engine of the lorry parked in front of us sprang into life and in the next second it was gone, giving a clear view of the tea hut and the tea hut an equally clear view of us. The three men standing there momentarily were oblivious to us, but the chap in the hut pointed our way. Donk was slowly resuming his metronomic rhythm. 'Fucking hell' he said as the men began to approach. 'Don't stop' I said . Soon they were grouped around the cab standing on the steps to look in. Laughing and joking they shouted encouragement to Donk and asked if it was their turn next. I attempted what was meant to be a winsome smile as my face was once more pushed against the window. 'What's going on' demanded my husband's voice from the phone. 'We've got an audience gaffer' muttered Brian without missing a stroke. 'and I'm just about to shoot my load.' As if on cue he jammed his knob against my cervix and I felt the spurts of jism spattering my insides. To the cheers of our observers I turned and took his softening tool in my mouth and licked it clean. 'What's happening' demanded Gary. 'She's sucking my dick clean boss.' said Brian. 'What a filthy slut you've found there you lucky bastard.' murmured his boss 'I wish I knew her. I sat up 'Maybe Brian will introduce me to you one day, you may be surprised. Bye.' I switched the phone off. As the men outside stared at me hoping for more action, I wound down the window. 'Shows over now boys, maybe next time.' Brian struggled into his trousers, started the truck and swung it out onto the highway. In minutes we were back at the services. I had managed to put on my blouse and skirt, put my knickers in my bag and had a semblance of order about me. I climbed out of the cab, again to the inquisitive stares of the drivers of other wagons. 'Thanks Brian, maybe we can do this again? do you have any workmates who would fancy a bit of fun with us, but not your boss ok. Maybe I'll call you sometime. You can tell your boss what a good time you had though.' Later that evening it was interesting to hear how Gary had listened as Donk had been fucking the arse off some cheap slut he had picked up on the Motorway services. Part 2 I met up with my new conquest a couple of times for repeat sessions in the cab and made sure he gave my unwitting husband the full picture, and while he was not the most attractive or the most fastidious guy I'd been screwed by, he was certainly up there with the most well equipped. Not only that, he had an enthusiasm for getting down and dirty that was completely honest and a lot of blokes could do worse than emulate this. My lorry driver, Donk, pulled pints in the evenings at a pub in Wednesbury, called the Fiery Holes I think. He was mates with a bloke from the factory called 'big Al,' who by reputation was as wide as he was tall. Donk was organising a lock in for Al's birthday with a few mates at the pub and they were trying to book a stripper-gram. I volunteered and suggested they invite their boss(Gary my husband) to 'take a look at the slut Donk was shagging.' Everything went smoothly and having left the kids in the care of the Mother in Law. I arrived at the pub just on closing time, dressed in my city girls outfit grey pin striped suit, black seamed stockings, killer heels and Warner's black underwear. By the time the doors were locked, there were about 20 or so men of all ages and variety left and I was the undisputed centre of attention. I'm no snob but this pub was rough by any standards and just the quality of my outfit marked me out as from a different league to the rest of the party. No sign at that time of Gary. Free drinks were served, then just after midnight Donk put on the stripper. Corny I know but a great tune to take your kit off to. I shimmied over to Big Al who was playing pool (or maybe it was snooker) and pulled him into the centre of the room. No soft lights, just functional florescent. Swaying to and fro, draping myself over his considerable bulk, I shed my jacket, blouse then skirt under his nose, getting him to help with the buttons and zips. When down to my bra, French knickers and stockings I started on him, loosening his shirt, unbuckling his belt.(no easy task under his overhanging belly) The audience completely taken by surprise, were quiet at first but now were shouting encouragement to me and to Al. He was grinning like a cat that got the cream, his hands resting like bunches of sausages on my hips. Opening his shirt I ran my hands over his immense hairy belly and chest. He pulled me to him. I couldn't touch my fingers behind his back. Turning my back on him I wriggled my behind into his crotch. Al's shovel hands came round to cup my breasts pulling the bra down to expose them to the audience and rolling my hard nipples between his fat fingers. Twisting round in his embrace I deftly unhooked the bra, discarded it and dropped to my haunches in front of the birthday boy. His waist band button was taut under the pressure of his restrained bulk. The tips of my fingers hurt as they sprung it open and eased down the zip of his jeans. I sensed the room go quiet as my hands slipped behind to explore his buttocks. (How is it that fat blokes can sometimes have really tight hard arses?) Slowly I began to ease down his boxers. His cock was in that half hard state surrounded by a nest of curly black hair. There was an audible intake of breath from the watching men and then a muttered cheer as my tongue lapped round the thickening member then drew it into my mouth. It was a pretty average as equipment goes, uncut but no worse for that and it was easy to work my mouth back and forth on it. Engrossed as I was, I was only barely aware of a change in the level of the background babble. Then I heard someone say 'the fucking gaffers here.' Big Al stopped my gorging on his cock and lifting me bodily, effortlessly span me round, stripping off my silky knickers with his other hand. Holding me under the waist, he cursorily opened the moist folds of my fanny before pulling me abruptly onto his cock till my behind nestled under his belly against his crutch. Gripping my hips firmly he jerked me back and forth on his dick as easily as if I'd been a blow up doll. His mates loved it. 'Dip your bread Al' shouted someone as my oscillations became more frenetic. Every bit of me was on the move under his onslaught. I tried to look for my husband amongst the spectators as I was bounced around, but without success. Attempting to steady myself I found myself almost bent double and holding onto my ankles. Out of the corner of my eye I spotted him at the back by the bar. He looked uneasy. I knew this was not because someone else was 'giving me one,' He was always happy to watch that, but because the someone else was one of his employees, as were many of the audience. He would be worried lest they found out it was his wife that was providing the entertainment. Suddenly static, Big Al held me close into his groin and I felt his prick pulsing inside me as he came. As he relaxed I stepped away his softening dick flopping into view. Brian (Donk) stepped in from the surrounding circle of blokes, a big broken toothed dirty grin and his prick erect, protruding from his trousers. Turning me round to face Al he bent me over and pushed me into the doggie position on the beer sticky carpet. 'Come on girl, suck him back up, it's his fucking birthday.' With that he positioned his much more serious weapon against my oozing cunt and began to push. His nine inches slid steadily in as I began once again tonguing the slimy tool of Big Al. Donk set up a purposeful rhythm not to fast at the same time teasing my clit. Al's rough hands kneaded my tits as I gobbled on his flaccid member slowly feeling it respond and fill my mouth. Soon I was the one jerking as every stroke triggered a heightening of the sensation in my fanny. A couple more blokes stepped forward and were wanking close to my face, looking to me for the go ahead to join in. Polite or what? Giving Al a rest I accommodated both pricks alternatively until they spasmed jism onto my face and hair. For a time, I was there and not there, so close to orgasm I couldn't concentrate on the now several cocks presented to me. (after the first two it was apparently open season) and just knelt there, head lolling and rolling with the impact of Donk's thrusts, willing the wave of sensation to engulf me. Momentarily I caught sight of my husband watching my performance, not jerking off as he almost certainly would in any other situation , but certainly taking in the scene albeit with some reserve. There was no reserve on my part and as the climax took me over I gasped wildly to whoever 'don't stop! don't stop! don't stop! Donk took me at my word and continued his battering until still cooing a series of oohs and aah's I felt his cock pulsing its stuff against my cervix. His cock withdrew and I felt its end being smeared across my arse cheeks. 'Get in there mate' I heard Donk say and my vacant cunt was plugged with another prick which began to thrust vigorously. Hands gripped my head lifting it up and a shiny bulbous knob pushed against my lips. I let it invade my mouth and tongued it as it oscillated through the pursed ring of my lips. I sensed they were getting confident now and more imaginative realising they had this woman who would apparently do anything. 'Does she take it up the arse' asked some bloke from behind me. Donk replied. 'Try her, her doe say no to much, but lube her up a bit fust.' My head was suddenly gripped tight as the cock in my mouth jabbed violently spewing its load into my throat. I swallowed to avoid choking. The prick withdrew, its purple head trailing jism down my chin. Suddenly my cunt was vacated and I felt the warm spatter of spunk on my buttocks. Pulled to my feet, I was hauled over to where a young guy in a wheel chair was fisting his dick. 'Go on luv, mek is day' commanded Big Al bending me double and guiding my face down onto the protruding dick. Thinking I was maybe doing a bit of social work I went to it with enthusiasm. The chap was making all the right noises and anticipating another mouthful of spunk I was slowing down when without warning a couple of thick fingers began to ream and penetrate my bum hole. The ease with which they slipped in reassured me they were well lubricated. They were replaced by what felt like a thick cock which slid determinedly past my sphincter and up my arse. The weight of a belly on my back betrayed Big Al as its owner as the prick began a steady reciprocation. 'Never dicked a birds arse' I heard him grunt. Someone behind me jeered 'Give her cunt some of this!' I felt a cold sensation against the lips of my vagina and realised Al was trying to ease a bottle of some sort up me. Gently he manoeuvred it until I felt the neck slide in. Then the pressure as he steadily pushed until the full girth of the bottle was stretching my cunt wide, heightening the stimulation from my anus. I was unable to concentrate on the cock in my mouth, so the young chap just gripped my face and jerked it up and down on his member. Globules of jism spluttered in my mouth as simultaneously Big Al pulled me to him for maximum penetration, his knob twitching inside my anal tract as his sperm pulsed out. Almost immediately his cock collapsed and I felt my contracting arse muscles eject it, spunk dribbling down my legs. There was a scramble to get at me now with every bloke wanting a piece of the action, and the earlier caution and courtesy forgotten. Hands grabbed and squeezed. The wheel chair guy was pulled away and two pricks competed for the attention of my mouth. Another larger dick was pounding my arsehole while an anonymous hand pulled and pushed at the bottle. I was held up by groping hands and hard pricks placed in mine. It must have been impossible to see me in the melee. A second orgasm threatened, my legs began to shake and in spite of the attendant hands I sagged to my knees. The buggering continued as did the bottle fucking until I shuddered and collapsed on my side. As I spasmed on the floor my juices gushed round the bottle. My various partners continued to probe and fondle my body as I lay there, stimulating their frenzied wanking. The cock withdrew from my arse shooting its stuff over my buttocks. One by one the remaining erections jettisoned their contribution over me. Suddenly everyone seemed to have had enough. I was sort of aware of chaps pulling up their trousers and tucking in shirts as I lay in a sticky mess on the lino. Getting to my knees, I began to ease the bottle out of me. Looking round I realised my husband had slipped away, to avoid any embarrassing moments. I would have to face him later. Donk came over and suggested a souvenir photo.( Thank god it was in the days before mobile phones could take pictures.) The publican produced a polaroid from somewhere and snapped as the blokes stood behind while Big Al snogged and groped me. For the last photo Donk suggested I squat on the bottle (Manns brown ale by the way), hold a dick in each hand and suck on Big AL's prick. By way of a finale it seemed ok. Everyone cheered and it was all over. I began to gather my clothes and get dressed. My stockings were ruined and Al asked for my knickers as a keepsake. Guys were leaving in ones and twos, coming to me for a peck and last minute fondle. Donk walked me a little unsteadily to my car. It was after 2.0am and I still had to face my husband.