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Park Stud

Slut Wife
2005-12-01

My wife and I were walking in the neighborhood park when we heard a woman moan.   The sound seemed to come from an enormous juniper hedge just off the path. We had both heard the rumors of muggings and even rapes that had supposedly taken place in the park, so we were concerned. My wife went off the path towards the hedge. I followed. It took us some time to find an opening, and this was little more than a crawlspace. My wife crawled in. I went after her, taking advantage of the opportunity to get a close-up view of her full, round ass in gray sweat shorts.
            The crawl space did not lead to the other side of the hedge, but to a kind of cave-like space within it.  There was an opening here an there, like windows, from which you could see into a hidden garden. It was not much of a garden, just some unmown grass, a few large flat rocks. Near the rocks stood a man and a woman kissing.
My wife and I had seen both of them walking in the park before, just never together. We usually saw the woman walking with her husband, pushing her baby in a baby carriage.   We had chatted with them once or twice, and I had wondered how two blonde-haired, blue-eyed people had wound up with an olive-skinned, black-haired baby. Had I not seen the woman pregnant a few months before, I would have assumed that they had adopted it.

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   Now I understood that the baby was probably not her husband’s at all, but the child of this man she was now kissing, who also had black hair and olive skin.
            When we saw the man he was usually running. He ran countless laps, always shirtless, and his face and body were so perfect that I had always thought he must be an underwear model or something. Sometimes when he ran past us, I would glance at my wife, to see what her reaction was to him. I was secretly jealous. I felt sure she was looking at him, that there was desire in her eyes. When I finally asked her how she felt about the man, she shrugged as though she had not paid him a thought.
            It was obvious enough to us no that this was the woman who had moaned, and that her moan had not been one of pain—or at least not a bad kind of pain. She moaned again, as if to reassure us that this was the case, as she kissed his muscular neck.   I had always thought the woman was very pretty, and now I was burning with envy as she kissed the man’s brown chest, sucked on his nipples, bit each “can” of his “six pack. ” She paused to strip off her clothes. Her body was very different from my wife’s. She was thin, pale, with small breasts and narrow hips, while my wife was full-figured, with café-au-lait-colored skin, broad hips and full breasts—an oldfashioned beauty, the sort of woman who looks like she’s designed to bear children.  But I thought both this woman and my wife were beautiful in their different ways. This woman’s body reminded me of a girl’s, only beginning to develop.

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   Were it not for the faint remnants of stretch marks, I would not have believed that she’d so recently had a baby.
            With her girl-like body now naked, she went down on to her knees before the man. While tonguing his belly button, she tugged down his jogging shorts. He was wearing a jock strap beneath. The white straps cut across his hard brown ass. The mesh pouch up front was bulging. The blonde woman slipped her fingers beneath the waistband and pulled down his jock strap. Out flopped his half-hard cock. How big it was, I don’t know.   It was probably quite big. It was certainly bigger than my six-incher, but it was difficult to tell exactly, partly because the size of his body no doubt made his cock look smaller than it was, but mainly because his balls were so big. They seemed almost out of proportion to the size of his cock. They reminded me of the testicles one sees on a stud bull or stallion. It was his balls, more than his cock even, that had been filling up the pouch of his jock strap.
            The woman licked and sucked at his balls, taking one into her little mouth, and then the other.

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   To take them both in at once would have been impossible. She began running her little pink tongue up and down the length of his cock, which was now getting hard. She took the head between her lips. He slipped his fingers into the loose knot of silky blonde hair behind her head, and pushed his cock into her mouth.
            I thought my wife would be offended by all of this. She has always disapproved of marital infidelity in general, and she has always said that sucking penis is degrading to women. I was sure the way he had her head palmed in his big hand and was pushing it back and forth on his cock would offend her especially. And so I was surprised when I glanced over and saw my wife entranced by what she was seeing. Her full lips were parted. Her dark eyes were wide, the pupils dilated so that they looked almost black. Her chest was heaving. She could not quite catch her breath. She was holding on one of the juniper branches so tightly that her knuckles had gone white. I had never seen her this way before. She was so caught up in watching the couple that she didn’t even realize I was staring at her.

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            When I looked again out though the branches, I saw the woman was on her hands and knees, and the man was behind her on his knees (his jock straps and shorts still down around his ankles) positioning himself to push his cock into her pussy. Though I knew she’d just had a baby, I was scared for her. He was so big, and she was so thin and frail and girl-like, with those narrow hips, that I half-thought that he would tear her apart. But when I leaned a little to the side, I could see that her pussy looked swollen, open, red, glistening with wetness—ready for him.  He slipped into her easily. She moaned and clawed at the long grass, pulling out handfuls. He pounded away at her, his pelvis slapping against her small, girl-like ass. I stole glances of my wife, who had pressed her hand to her chest, as though her heart hurt.   
I don’t know how much time passed. I don’t how many times I thought that the blonde woman must be coming, judging by the way she moaned and panted and cried out, when the man, who had not said a word until now, asked,
            “Do you want it?”
            “God yes,” she said between clenched teeth.
            She thrust her ass back and up. He drove his cock in to the hilt, stiffened, and stiffened again. He was holding her by the pelvis to keep himself in as deep as possible. When he finally relaxed and slipped out of her, a long thick strand of semen hung between the head of his cock and her swollen pussy. He wiped it on her ass, leaving a wet shiny smear on her white skin.

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   He stood, pulled up his jock strap, arranging his big cock and balls to fit them inside the pouch, and then pulled up his shorts. He resumed his jog, going out the garden gate on the far side of the hidden garden.
            The blond woman lay on the grass, which was all torn up from her clawing and tearing at it. She felt around for her clothes. She slipped on her panties inside out, put on her shorts. She found her bra and stuffed it into her bag. She put on her t-shirt without it, so her little breasts hung loose, and we could still see their forms, the still-erect nipples, through the thin fabric of the shirt. She put back on her socks and her walking shoes. She then stood and went to what I had been too busy watching her and the man to notice before: a baby carriage. The same baby carriage that she sometimes pushed with her husband.  She leaned over the opening of the carriage, made some funny faces to her baby, talked-baby talk to it, reached in to carress it. .   As she pushed the carriage towards the gate, humming a tune, I could see a big wet mark on the crotch of her walking shorts where the man’s semen was dripping out of her.
            My wife said very little about what we had seen. When I asked her if it had excited her, she shrugged and said, “Of course not.

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  ” I tried to make love to her, hoping that what we had seen had put her in the mood, but she pushed me away, as usual, telling me she didn’t feel like it. She went to take a bath, and stayed in much longer than usual. .  
The following day was Monday. As I work late, my wife usually goes to the park alone on weekdays. She’s concerned about her weight, though I tell her again and again her full figured body is sexy.  
All morning at work I was worried of what might happen if my wife saw the man while at the park. Would she make eyes at him? Would she make some excuse to speak to him? How far would she go?
            After lunch I went to my boss and asked him for the afternoon off. He gave it to me. When I mentioned that I might need several afternoons, he told me to take them and not to worry.  I’d always been a good, reliable worker, and he wanted to show his appreciation.
            I was waiting at the park, sitting in a gazebo where I knew my wife never went. . When my wife arrived at the park, she was dressed as usual, in gray sweat shorts, a black t-shirt, and walking shoes. Her body was smooth and soft and full.

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            She began to walk our usual route. I could see her all the while from the gazebo. She was on her second lap when the man, running shirtless as usual, ran past her. Even from a distance I could see she was watching him from behind, admiring the breadth of his shoulders, the tapering waist, the muscled ass and legs. Still, I was surprised when she began running after him. My wife never jogs. She had to practically sprint to catch up with him, and when she finally alongside him it was difficult for her to keep up. When it seemed that he would leave her behind, she grabbed his hand. This slowed him down. He smiled, but did not seem especially surprised.   They jogged, more slowly now, hand in hand to the gate of the hidden garden.
            I ran as fast as I could to the opening in the hedge we’d found the day before. By the time I got there, they were already kissing. My wife had never kissed me the way she was kissing him. She looked hungry.

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   She bit and sucked on his lips. She licked his neck. She then stood back, remembering what the blonde woman had done, and removed her clothes. In a moment my wife’s full light-brown breasts, with nipples only a half-shade darker, were exposed in the sunlight. She was naked except for a pair of gray cotton panties. She licked his sweaty brown chest, sucked at his big dark-brown nipples, bit at each “can” of his “sixpack,” just as the blonde woman had done—play-biting at them, sucking and licking the sweat out of the ridges between.
            She went down on her knees. She tongued his bellybutton, tugged down his shorts and jockstrap all at once. Out flopped his fat, half-hard cock, those tremendous balls. For a moment she just stared at it. She closed her eyes and licked his cock. Her nostrils flared and quivered. The cock-smell must have been very strong, with all the sweat and running. She licked his balls, took one, then the other into her mouth. She ran her pink tongue up the length of his shaft.

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   She kissed and sucked at the throbbing head. In a moment he’d worked his fingers into my wife’s thick dark hair, pushed her head onto his cock, and was fucking her mouth, or rather having her fuck him with her mouth. Nothing on him moved but his hand, and that only enough to guide her head back and forth.
My wife hardly ever sucks me, and she had never sucked me the way she was doing this guy. You could see her tongue working inside her cheek as she swirled it around the head of his cock. She deep throated him, so that her lips touched the stubble of his pubic hair. Every so often she paused to lick and kiss the throbbing veiny shaft.  But mostly she simply sucked, moving her head back and for to the rhythm set by the pressure of his hand. The man closed his eyes, tilted his head back, looked down to admire the beautiful woman who was my wife, sucking his cock so hungrily. He closed his eyes again, tensed. Every muscle on his sweaty muscled body stood out. He groaned, holding my wife firmly by the head. I wanted to call out then, to put a stop to it. But it was too late.  He was coming into my wife's mouth.

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            “Mmm,” she mewled, taking his hard muscled ass into her hands to hold him close.   “Mmm. ” 
She swallowed again and again, but could not swallow fast enough. A trickled of semen ran out the corner of her mouth. She licked it back in quickly with her tongue. When she saw a little remaining semen about to drip from his cock, now only half hard again, she lapped that up too.
            He pulled up his jockstrap and shorts, did a couple of stretches. My wife, still on her knees, watced his muscular body flex with awe.  He was about to resume his jog when he noticed my wife’s eyes were very bright. . Between her legs a dark wet patch soaked her panties. She looked down where he was looking, saw how wet she was, covered the spot with her hands, and blushed pink in a way that I’d never seen her blush before.
            “Look,” he said, feeling sorry for her.  “I’ve got three more laps. If you like, I can come back when I’m done and .

 

   . . . ”
            My wife nodded rapidly. Her eyes lit up even more. She smiled. (She has a very beautiful smile).  
            The man ran out the gate and resumed his jog. My wife slipped on her t-shirt, not bothering with the bra or her shorts. She took from her bag a condom, not the condoms that I use on her, but  some she’d bought especially for the occasion, the extra-large size. After a moment’s hesitation she tore open the foil packet, took the condom out. She was sitting on one of the stones, her legs spread without her seeming to notice it. The wet patch at the crotch of her panties had grown bigger than ever. The entire front of her panties was soaked, made transparent with wetness, so that the dark area of her pubic hair was visible through the fabric.
            She fidgeted, looked at the gate.

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   She touched herself, again without thinking about it, then caught herself and stopped, wanting to save herself for him.  She stood, paced the grassy area, still torn up looking by the other woman. She found a patch, a little closer to where I was, that was fresher looking. When the man ran back in through the gate, she pulled off the shirt at once, again exposing her breasts.   She pulled off her panties too.  Her black pubic hair was glistening, the curls nearest her slit already wet.  
The man actually took off his running shoes as he sized up my wife, who was waiting to be fucked.  He removed his shorts and jock strap, stood before her with nearly hard cock and those tremendous balls.   At the sight of them my wife put her hand behind her back, dropped the condom into the long grass.
            I was worried.
    She wasn’t on the pill. I thought about coming out of the bushes, putting a stop to what was about to happen, or at least trying to. But then I remembered how when we were first married she sometimes let me fuck her without a condom if I agreed to pull out before I came. I thought maybe she would do that.
                I have always thought my wife’s pussy was small and tight.

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       It had always felt that way to me on those rare occasions when she let me fuck her. It had never occurred to me that her pussy felt small and tight because she was never very excited. Now, as she went down on her elbows and held her full round ass up for him, I could see her pussy was open, swollen, glistening wet, and very red against the black of her pubic hair. It looked inflamed. Hot. He went down on his knees behind her, slipped his big cock into her easily. It made a wet sloshing sound as it went in, as though he were dipping his cock into liquid.
                “Jesus, you’re wet,” he said under his breath.
                He fucked her much as he had the blonde woman, and she seemed to enjoy it even more. She too tore out handfuls of grass. She too thrust her ass back and up to meet his thrusts. I had never seen her this way before. She was making all sorts of sounds that I had never heard before—sounds so different than the feeble attempts at faking orgasms she’d made with me. She moaned. She screamed.

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       She said, “Oh Jesus” and “Oh God,” and especially “fuck me, fuck me,” over and over.   She cried out, "No!," then "Yes, yes, yes!"  She said she’d never been fucked this way before. When she began to get really loud he told her that she needed to keep it down. The people walking on the track might hear. She bit her finger, but still she made sounds. She whimpered, she sighed, she cooed and oooohed and ahhhhed. All the while her pussy made that wet shoshing sound as he fucked it. “God I’m going to cum,” she said. “I’m going to cum . . . I’m going to. . . “ She bit her finger.

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       She screamed onto her finger.
                “Do you want it?”
                “God yes,” she said in a voice that did not sound like her own.
                Again I wanted to call out, run out of the juniper hedge and push him away from her. But I just sat there, paralyzed by the site of of my wife's ecstacy with another man. He grabbed her by the pelvis—much wider than the blonde’s pelvis had been—and plunged as deeply as he could go. His whole body stiffened. He was coming into my wife's pussy--something she'd never let me do.  She wasn't on the pill. He was filling her with his sperm, and she was loving it.  She was panting, sweating, smiling.
                “I can feel it shooting inside of me,” she said, laughing.
                He pulled out.  There was a strand of thick white semen dangling from his cock. He wiped it on her ass,  leaving a wet smear.  He dressed, and jogged away.

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      . My wife, like the blond, did not recover so quickly. She lay on the grass a long time, sighing. Her legs were spread. Semen oozed out of her pussy, pearly white against her black pubic hair.  When she finally got dressed and left, the crotch of her sweat shorts were soaked. I ran out from my hiding place in the hedge just in time to see her leaving the park. She was blushing, discreetly trying to cover her soaked crotch with her hand. The other walkers were staring at her. One woman--a very pretty brunette--gave her a knowing smile.
                I went to the juniper hedge every afternoon for the rest of the week. I watched the man fuck my wife again and again. He fucked her standing up against the rocks. He had her sit on top of him and fucked her from below. He fucked her doggie-style again.

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       She sucked him off I don’t know how many times. (One evening when I gave her a hug she burped and her breath smelled of his cum).  But mostly he fucked her in the good old fashioned missionary position. She had always told me that she found missionary style degrading, but she seemed to like that best with him.   
                So my view was mainly one of his broad back, her shapely hands caressing it and clawing at it; his hard brown ass pumping away between her legs, with my wife’s full thighs spread wide on either side; his enormous balls just below, with an occasional peek of her pussy stretched around the thick veiny shaft of his cock, and, more often, her asshole, as he moved in and out of her.
                I once saw while she was coming for the umpteenth time something I could hardly believe: a big brown turd oozed out of her asshole. He had quite literally fucked the shit out of her. She was so embarrassed when she realized what she’d done that she turned deep red. She apologized, cursed herself under her breath.  He told her not to worry about it, like someone who’d seen such things happen before. Evidently to prove to her that he didn’t think she was disgusting, he had her wipe herself clean, led her to a clean area of grass,  and  gave her a good long ass-fucking. Needless to say she'd never let me do that before either. She screamed, biting her finger all while, with a combination of pain and pleasure.  She left the park with his semen oozing out of both holes that day.
                I often was not alone in the cave-like opening inside the hedge.

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       Old men whom I had seen sitting on park benches, boys I’d seen skate boarding, young bachelors who took evening strolls, men who normally walked with their wives, including the husband of that blond, were often kneeling beside me, watching my wife get fucked in every possible manner. They undid their pants, pulled out their cocks, and beat off to the sight of her being fucked, coming as my wife came, soaking the earth with their semen.
                On one occasion my wife was waiting on the rocks for the man when a woman appeared in the hidden garden, not the blonde woman, but a good-looking redhead we’d seen jogging before. My wife was half-jealous, half ashamed, judging by the pink color of her face and her flustered expression.  The red-head sighed, reached into her fanny pack, and took out a quarter.
                “Heads or tails?”
                “I beg your pardon?” asked my wife.
                “Call it. If you win you get your choice, his cock or his mouth. ”
                The redhead prepared to throw the coin. My wife, not knowing what else to do, called out, “Tails!”
                “Too bad for you. It’s heads. " She showed her the coin on the back of her hand.   "I want his cock. I need a good cock today. Don’t feel bad though.

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       He’s very good with his tongue, you know. But you don't know, do you? Oh! You’re in for a treat. ”
                When the man arrived, he did not seem at all surprised that two beautiful women, one of them married, were waiting to be fucked. They both began kissing him, my wife taking one side of his neck, the red head the other. They each took a nipple, each took a ball. They took turns sucking at his cock, and licked it at the same time, their tongues meeting at the top.   When it was good and hard, he lay down on the grass. The red head sat on his cock, my wife on his face. They faced each other as they rode him, each bouncing up and down, my wife's full breasts bouncing on one side, the red head’s smaller perkier tits jiggling on the other. They came at the same time, and afterwards rested their foreheads together.  
                At home my wife was relaxed, happy, more satisfied than I had ever seen her. She was kinder to me, and though she still did not fuck me very often, and then always with a condom, faking her orgasm to get me to come more quickly, she did show a kind of motherly-sisterly affection towards me. She even jacked me off and sucked me now and then, always careful to avoid getting my semen into her mouth, no doubt feeling sorry for me, now that she understood something of how I must feel.
                Soon her belly began to swell. Her breast and thighs grew heavy.

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       When she finally announced to me that she was pregnant, she said that the condom must have leaked. She seemed very happy.
                And so now when we walk in the park together and pass the blond woman and her husband, my wife--waddling along with some difficulty these days--touches her swollen belly and smiles, and the blonde, whose belly is also swollen again, does the same, as though they’re sharing a secret.
                And so now, when we pass the juniper hedge and hear a woman moan, my wife only sighs, no doubt wishing that it was she who was being fucked.  
                 
     
                    
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