Tuesday, 1 October 2013


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 

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 

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 

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 

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 

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 

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.

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