Amiga ISO Collection/AmigaDemoCD2.iso/ASCII/TEXTE/SEX/ADULTSHARE/F/FLORIDA.TXT

Text File | 1991-01-17 | 13.6 KB | 264 lines

"FLORIDA HEAT"

Open Marriage Chronicles

By BILL

We were vacationing on Florida's west coast when I suggested to Ellen
that she should date others. In 8 years of marriage, we'd had no
serious arguments, but now she was irritated.

We were discussing this a half hour before sunset while we were in our
swimwear,washing our Porsche on the narrow strip of grass separating
the rented house and the beach. She calmed down, then laughed,
convinced that this wasn't a ploy to allow me to fool around. She'd
been so opposed to the suggestion that I was surprised when she
finally caved in, agreeing, "Okay, I'll consider it, Bill. But it's a
dumb idea."

I breathed like I'd just run a mile and said, "All I ask is that you
tell me about the dates." She smirked doubtfully, but her eyes were
telling me that her anger had been replaced by an excited imagination.

Before we married, Ellen had been a beachwear and cosmetics model. A
daughter of a Presbyterian minister, she doesn't smoke and had never
drunk alcohol. Thanks to dieting and Bally, her measurements are the
same now as when I met her. She's 5'8", has shoulder-length black
hair, the rare color of brilliant, gray eyes, and a figure that turns
the heads of both sexes.

Here, in her white string-bikini, she looked even more appealing.  The
car now shined like new. I was lifting the portable vacuum when we
glanced toward a young blond man, his fist gripping a sketch pad as he
walked up from the beach. He was wearing a light blue button-down
shirt with epaulets and khaki safari slacks. He introduced himself as
Greg, an art student at a local college.

He asked directions to a nearby diner. With his tall, lithe body and
tanned face, he looked more like a surfer than an artist.  Bending to
pick up the chamois and her white hip-length terry robe, Ellen smiled
as she appraised Greg's handsome features.

Her nervous blush looked like a advanced case of sunburn. She tossed
me a quizzical nod.  I picked up her cue and grinned toward Greg, "We
haven't eaten either." Turning to Ellen, I blurted, "How about
inviting this starving student over for dinner?"

Ellen beamed as she agreed, enthusiastically, "Terrific idea," and
turning to Greg, offered, "How about lobster?"

He declined politely, but upon Ellen's urging, decided she was
sincere, and nodded affirmatively, "I love lobster, thanks." I walked
behind Greg, his gaze following Ellen's tall beach robed figure up the
pebbled flagstones to the back door.

In the dimly lit kitchen, Ellen slipped on her white high heeled
pumps, accentuating her long legs.  Although shy, Greg turned
frequently to look at her as she prepared dinner.

He was living with two roommates in a rented duplex two blocks from
the college.  He knew little about sports, and I knew little about
art, so the conversation was strained until Ellen joined us.

After dinner, Ellen took a shower, then returned in a low cut dark
blue robe to sit on the floor between me in a chair and Greg on the
couch. She was wearing nothing beneath the satiny material that clung
to her body, contouring her nipples.

I set chips and dip on the rattan coffee table and opened a bottle of
white wine for Greg and me and a diet drink for Ellen.  There was no
mistaking the sexual electricity irradiating between them.

Their eyes locked as they exchanged stories of their lives before
Florida.  His gaze fell now and then to her bared leg and to the
smooth, midnight blue material that exposed the pale sides of her
breasts. Occasionally a word would catch in their throats. Both
swallowed in excitation when their hands brushed as she offered him
potato chips, her hand lingering to touch his. Because Greg was lean
and hardened, I doubted that he usually ate snacks; but now, he didn't
refuse any, allowing him another opportunity to caress her hand.

She asked him to teach her some basic sketching rules, suggesting that
they do so in what Floridians would call the "Florida room." In Long
Island, we would call it a den. She preceded him into the room, tuned
the stereo to a soft FM station, then came out to search for a bottle
of champagne and two glasses. She whispered her plan, then returned to
Greg, closing the door.

As she suggested, I slipped out of the house, drove the car a block
away, locked it, and sprinted back to an area between the darkened
hedge and the Florida room's broad shuttered window.  All other lights
in the house were now turned off. The summer heat had allowed us to
keep the glass shutters open, so I could hear everything they said.

I was wondering how she'd handle champagne as I watched her sipping
from her half empty glass as she curled alongside him on the couch.
Their conversation diminished to whispers and soft laughter. She
glanced beyond the window but was unable to see me in the darkness.
Turning to Greg, she pursed her lips and inquired, "Do you like to
dance?" When he murmured something about not knowing how to "slow
dance," she playfully offered to teach him.

He accepted. A soft glow bathed the room, and she held out her hand, beckoning
him. They swayed together, her cheek brushing his.

He stroked her hair. He held her for moments after the second song had
ended, then turned away to drink the last of the champagne from his
glass.

Ellen's face was flushed now, her soft lips trembling with
passion as she danced slowly with Greg. She swallowed nervously,
glancing to his engorged cock surging beneath his slacks. Another
melody drifted from the stereo.  She closed her eyes as he reached for
her. The tips of her fingers traced a sensuous path down his neck. Her
tremorous mouth formed an "oh" as her lips touched his. Ellen's hips
gyrated in eager passion.

Greg opened her robe, sliding it from her shoulders. Her nipples were
erect.  Her body trembled in excitation as the robe fluttered to the
floor. She blushed as he pulled her to him, his lips crushing hers.
Ellen's hands tremored as she removed his shirt. Her legs shaking, she
sank to her knees to unbuckle his belt. She pulled his slacks down his
long legs, her full lips brushing his chest and stomach.

As she did, his cock burst free. On her knees, staring intently
as Greg's cock swayed before her, she looked like a sacrificial
virgin worshiping at a serpentine altar. Shuddering, she licked her
crimson lips. Her full pale breasts were rippling with passion. I
could feel the desire radiating between them as her mouth strained to
encircle his shaft that was curving up from the tuft of blond pubic
hair.

Ellen was moaning; her hips were rolling back and forth like waves on
the beach. Greg gaped at his glistening cock as the fullness of her
lips glided along its length. As he glanced to the pulsing blue
numbers of a shelftop's digital clock, he asked, "What if your
husband returns early from work?"

She muttered, her soft voice quaking, "He won't. He works near Tampa
Bay and won't be home until eight in the morning." He lifted her from
the floor, then lowered her to the couch, tasting her melon-like
breasts. He sucked each firm, reddened nipple until they stood out
like spikes. Her face was burning, her breath hissing like a radiator.
Ellen pressed her breast's soft ripeness against his face, her cries
of pleasure piercing the room's air. She squeezed his cock, its
purple, bulbous head surging beyond the breadth of her small
fist. Mewing in ardor, she had forgotten that I was watching.

My shaft was now as hard as his as I unzipped
and pulled it from my slacks, pumping slowly. He pushed her
legs apart.  Her pale coral mound pulsated. I realized then that she'd
shaved her pubic hair while in the shower.

His lips grazed her swollen clit, causing her body to shimmy as
she rotated her smoothness against his mouth. He moved up her body
until his tongue was twirling against hers. My chest heaved in
excitement as he mounted her. Her body shivered, her eyes following
the downward path of his shaft. Her eager pussy quivered upward to
touch the intrusive member. She moaned, tears of pleasure pooling in
her eyes as his broad cock-head pushed through her creaming pussy
folds. Her fervid tunnel now engulfed his shaft as she hissed, "Oh
Greg!  I'm on FIRE!" Her tremoring thighs caressed his back, reeling
him in. And then, she was wailing with lust as he pistoned deep within
her. Ellen thrashed her head from side to side. Her hips swirled as
she reveled in his heated fucking.  Swinging her legs around his
shoulders, she pressed her back against the cushions, squealing, her
eyes glistening with tears. Her face registered pleasure with each
steaming entry of his cock. Her voice quavering, she
moaned, "Oh God! Greg! I've never felt like this!"

Thrusting into her pussy, Greg was immersed in the culmination
of their lust. His jaw slackened. His chest heaved as he looked down
on her rolling eyes. He moaned unintelligible noises I could remember
making as a young marine with women who were never as gorgeous as
Ellen! I couldn't have imagined fucking a woman that beautiful! A
MARRIED woman!

Her body shivered. Unable to take her eyes off the cock
sliding into her shaved pussy, she cried, "Oh, Greg, I LOVE your cock!
I love fucking you!" I was drugged with a time-stilling
sensation as she rolled, pulling Greg beneath her. Straddling him, she
slowly impaled herself on his cock, her fiery well of passion sucking
in his long, steaming poker.  Gaping at her pussy folds enveloping
his firm cock as she bucked against him, Greg murmured, "Yes,
Ellen, I love it too! I love fucking YOU!" I now leaned against the
window so closely, I could smell the perspiration steaming from their
inflamed bodies. I was stroking my elongated member in rhythm with my
heart, which was thumping like a sledgehammer.

Greg disengaged, pushing Ellen to her knees on the carpet, mounting
her from the rear. She reached behind, allowing her fingers
to stroke his length. Feeling his hardness, she cried out in
yearning! Bracing her arms against the carpet, she spread her knees to
accommodate his cock as it entered her pussy. She gasped. Her
mouth and eyes widened as he pushed deeper. Ellen shuddered, aflame
with desire. Her voice quaking, she pleaded, "Oh, Greg! Give it
to me!
I need your cock!" With tears streaming down her cheeks, she pleaded
for every inch of his cock, slowly thrusting its way deep within
her lubricated pussy. Her eyes were wild, her body flaming in a crimson blush.

But when he had sunk his shaft its full length, she wailed, "Oh, YES!
Greg! YES-S-S-S!" Now, as they united in blazing passion, she was
moaning.  They were thrashing about like demons.  The yolks of
her eyes rolled.  She fucked back against him wildly in long strokes,
shuddering as his balls slapped the mounds of her buttocks. I'd
never seen Ellen so overcome with lust!

The sheer joy of watching them was incredible! Until that night, I'd
never heard my wife swear, but now, white hot with passion, she was
brazenly pleading, "Oh, God! FUCK me! FUCK me, Greg!"
Ellen was rolling her head in wide circles.  Her eyes told me she felt
the onrushing orgasm that would soon overtake them. The smell of their
sex permeated the warm night air.

And then Greg, his face contorted, was shrieking, "I'm cumming, I'm
CUMMING! Oh, GOD!" He lifted his head high and groaned, increasing his
tempo. Her soft lips formed an "oh" with each entry. Ellen
was positively radiant as she turned to look at him. His hips hammered
the roundness of her buttocks. She matched his every thrust as she
told him, "Oh God! It's so great, Greg! Cum with me! I love it!
Oh, yes, I love it!" Her blissful moans registered the
expectant orgasm.  Even Greg and I could feel the explosion building
within her.

And then it came! The sexual thunder was surging through them like an
avalanche. She shut her eyes tightly as they sobbed in unison, their
bodies and minds intertwined in cosmic eruptions.  I was cumming for
what seemed an eternity. I hadn't realized how loudly I'd groaned
until moments later when I saw Greg walking over to lean against the
back of the couch to peer out the window. He was startled for a moment
but then grinned, "I really didn't know you were still here. Was it
okay?"

He was asking for my approval, not whether I'd enjoyed it. I zipped my
fly.  "I'd asked Ellen to give herself to you. I hope you don't feel
used."

He breathed, uncomfortably, "I've never had a greater gift." I
believed him. I walked to the door. Ellen greeted me, her gray eyes
ablaze in lust. Her breath huffed in short bursts as she removed my
clothes. Grasping Greg's shaft, then mine, she led us to the shower. A
dim light filtered through the door from the hallway. Beneath the
pounding water, our mouths and tongues pleasured Ellen until the water
heater gave up.

Now, burning with desire, we toweled off and stumbled into our
bedroom. Ellen took turns with us until, finally exhausted, she
crawled to Greg, placed her elbows on his chest and looked into his
eyes as if in worship. "I love you," she told him as she stroked my
cock behind her.  "I love Bill, but I also love you.  Can you
understand that?" I wasn't jealous of Ellen's comment.  Her revelation
told me just how much the experience meant to her.

I wish that I could say that we were with Greg many more times, but we
left our vacation cottage the next day. A letter we'd mailed to Greg
was returned, stamped, "Addressee has moved.  Current address
unknown." However, that experience changed our lives. As things turned
out, she met two other young men who reminded her a great deal of Greg
- David who lives near us, and Brad who visited us from Long Island.
But those are Ellen's story, and she wants to tell you herself.