Captain's Wife


Caution: This Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Fa/Fa, Mult, Consensual, Drunk/Drugged, Slut Wife, Group Sex, Orgy, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Masturbation, Squirting, .

Desc: Sex Story: A tale of the slut married to our CO. She cruised the bars looking to pick up sailors. In this story she picks up my brother and me.

My brother, Peter had dropped by the islands on a visit. As an Air Force pilot, he spent more time flying around it than at stopping at any one point. He is a year older than I, and when he gets into Hawaii we hit the bars. My sub was out for a five-day training run and I was behind to go to Advanced Electronics School.

Peter and I decided to head for Hotel Street to check out the action. In the seventies Hotel Street was the home of strip clubs, porno shops, and hookers. The sailors called the place "Shit Street." From live sex shows to topless and bottomless dancers to more transvestites than San Francisco, if you wanted it you could get it on Shit Street.

We walked into a dark bar, a block off Hotel Street. The place was almost empty. Decorated to attract upper class clientele in the 1940s, today it attracted the other end of the social class. We were looking for girls of easy virtue. They hung out in places like this.

It was still early, the sun was still shining, and the maggots were still sleeping. We stood at the bar trying to wake up the bartender to order a drink. I was telling Peter a sea story and had mentioned the name of by sub, when a woman sitting a few feet down the bar gave me a big smile and said, "You're on a submarine."

"Yes," I said. I looked at her, and was instantly hard. This woman took the definition of easy virtue to an extreme. She was older, maybe early forties, a hard face around the smile. A cigarette permanently grew from her left hand. She wore a thin white blouse with a black bra easily visible through it. Her black leather mini-skirt, shining in even the dim light of the bar, had ridden up to expose the tops of her black stockings, as I looked her over she shifted her ass on the stool and some white thigh and black garter came into view. Her blouse was unbuttoned to show off her breasts resting in a sheer black bra. I saw a flicker of gold on her ankle; she wore a gold chain with a simple charm with the word "SLUT" engraved on it.

She looked us over. I just wished the USDA inspected beef as closely as she did us. I almost felt the stamp hit my ass. "I would like to buy you boys a drink." Her voice was one long gravel road traveled by too many smokes and tokes.

Her held her cigarette loosely in her fingers in that relaxed way you only see in women who have smoked too many cigarettes after too much sex. She sucked on the cigarette hollowing her cheeks to get the maximum draw and the smoke came out in long twin plumes from her nose. The way her cheeks hollowed made me see my dick getting the same suction.

Peter said, "Sure." But then, I knew from previous barhopping, Peter liked sluts; he must have an enormous boner right now over this one, she was a slut role model. "I'm Peter and this is Joe."

She led out a hand with yellow-stained fingers to shake ours, "I'm Carla." When see reached out her blouse came open down to her skirt.

"Nice to meet you," I said. My dick was hard already.

She smiled at us and motioned us over the booths. "Come on lets sit down over here were it is more private and quieter." Quieter, I've heard noisier morgues than this place. She picked up her drink and led the way. Peter and I watched her ass, tightly packed into that shiny leather, piston its way back to a booth in the back of the bar. She wore five-inch high heels--the kind you always see on hookers. She walked on her 'fuck-me-pumps' with the sureness of Nikes.

She pointed to the last booth. "How's this." I slid in one side and Peter the other. She looked at us booth performing some mental calculation and slid it next to Peter--slid in close. The table in the booth was only about eighteen inches high. Carla put her feet on the table and crossed legs. I had a close-up view of those stocking tops and sliver of thigh. Peter and I followed suit and put our feet on the table.

The waitress appeared almost instantly. She was black. Her nametag read "Tanya." The nametag flew like a flag above a sea of tits. She had some huge tits; the cocktail waitress uniform barely contained them. You could dive a boat in that cleavage. You could titty-fuck those and never see your dick.

Carla looked at us staring at Tanya's tits and figured she was loosing her audience. "Tanya, honey, would you get us all a round of double vodkas." Tanya looked at us like cows being let somewhere they didn't understand to a fate they couldn't understand. She turned those tits into the wind and headed for the bar. Carla leaned down and pulled on the straps of her pumps and pulled them off. She wiggled her toes inside the black stockings. She knew we were watching every movement.

"So what do you do, Peter. Nice name... Peter." She strung out the sound of his name in a way that made it sound dirty.

"I am an Air Force Pilot." She had turned in the booth to face us. We each had a clear view of her tits in her tiny bra. This sideways pose allowed her to open her legs giving us a look up her dress into the darkness between her legs.

"I like pilots. Joe, you said you were on a submarine. What submarine would that be?"

"The Kingfish." She reached inside her blouse to adjust her bra. It didn't look any different after the adjustment, but her fingers disappeared far enough inside the cup to have excited her nipple and our cocks.

"I think I know someone on the Kingfish." Her toe was rubbing against my leg softly, teasing the skin under my slacks.

"Oh, yeah, who would that be?" Her hand settled in Peter's lap. Her hand covered some of the mountain his cock raised. She was rubbing the down slope while she talked to me. She was a cool customer you would never know from the sound of her voice that she was feeling up my brother.

"The Captain." Her toe was probing my knee and Peter was smiling softly. As I said, Peter liked them slutty. We had hooked up; it appeared, with a queen-bee slut. She was pouring honey on us and had a hungry look in her eye. She raised one knee from the table giving me a clear view of her stocking tops and black garters.

"No, shit." I was surprised. Our captain was a very straight-laced "no fuck around" sort of guy. I couldn't imagine her being a friend of the Capitan; she must be a relative.

Tanya was back in a snap. The bartender must have known how to make double vodkas. She set the drinks down in front of us showing us her version of the Promised Land. Carla never moved her hand from Peter's cock. I could see had climbed higher on the mountain.

"Yeah, I know him."

Putting her hand inside of her blouse and pulled it aside-she looks at me and says "What do you think of my tits-do you like them-or do you think they are too small?"

Peter and I gave each other a look and I said, "I think they look pretty small to me-take them out and show us-give us a better look."

She popped the clasp. Spreading the cups she showed us her tits as she pinched the nipples to get a rise out of them. "See, I think they're too small. I keep trying to get that cheap-assed-limp-dicked husband of mine to buy me some bigger ones, but the bastard is a fucking skin flint."

Peter and I agree her tits are small and there is no titty-fucking potential on that chest. Barely an A cup, she did have fantastic nipples-little poke-your-eye-out nips. She took Peter's hand and put it on her tit and said, "Pinch it-hard. I love my nipples pinched until they hurt." As Peter pinched her nipple her legs slowly opened. I was looking in the widening gap to for a bare pussy. I was sure she didn't wear panties.

"Black." She's looked at me. The single word from her mouth startled me.


"Black. I'm wearing black panties. Wanna see?" She spread fully displaying a small black, g-string panty covering her pussy. Peter's in hog-heaven, a slut sitting next to him with her legs spread and her tits hanging out while sipping a double shot of vodka. Sluts don't get any nastier than this.

"My pussy's shaved too. Wanna see that?"

Peter sprained a lip saying, "Sure."

She reached down and pulled the crotch aside. For a tiny woman, she had an ugly cunt, big loose lips, wet-looking, and well used. Many a cock had plowed this ground. She released the crotch and tossed back the last of her drink. She yelled, "Tanya."

Seconds later, it seemed, Tanya was there with three more double vodkas. Carla made no attempt to cover her tits.

Tanya looked at the bare tits and laughed, "Honey, I had tits that small once, but then I turned four." I almost blew my drink across the table. Carla didn't take it personally and laughed too.

"Tanya, show these boys a real set of tits." Tanya set down her serving try and pulled down the front of her outfit. Big, black and crowned by three-inch-across nipples.

"Holy, fuck." Peter gasped. Her tits billowed out like storm clouds rolling in. Tanya laughed heartily at our reaction and pulled up the top.

"Peter, here has a big dick." She pressed on Peter's pants to show the bulge off to Tanya.

"It sure does look like it? Are you going to snack on that cock?"

"Tanya, I think I will." She opened his pants and fished out his cock. "Shit, you've got a big dick. Just the size I like." She leaned down and swallowed about three inches.

"Oh, fuck yes, suck that cock you slut."

Tanya laughed again. "Well, Carla, he knows who he's dealing with."

Carla gave her the finger and sucked up another two inches. I could see her mouth working on his cock. He slumped back giving her more room. She bobbed her head and dropped further down on his dick.

Peter raised his head and put his hand on her head. "Take it all bitch, eat that cock."

.... There is more of this story ...

The source of this story is Storiesonline

For the rest of this story you need to be logged in: Log In or Register for a Free account