It would be fair to say that I have always been a hot-box. A week after I started work for Williams publishing, as Mr. Mac Donald's secretary, he asked me if I would care to join him for a drink. I was dating Don Johnson at the time. We had just starting having sex. Yet to me, Don was a boy. Mr. Mac Donald, at age forty, was a distinguished man. I just could not resist going for a drink with him, nor could I turn him down when he suggested that I join him at a local motel.
"Mary Jo, I find you to be irresistible. You are like a fresh flower."
I might have been naive, but I was not dumb. I wanted to say, a flower that you are going to pluck, but I did not because his hand was softly caressing my neck as he kissed me gently on the lips. I was thrilled that he was paying attention to me.
My dress was unzipped, lowered, as were my panties. It took him several tries to unhook my bra's five snaps. The sixteen pounds of my breasts pulled again his efforts. Finally they fell free. His total attention concentrated on them. He mouth first on one, then the other. My head was back. I was enjoying his foreplay.
I knew that I was to be fucked. I wished that he would hurry to enter me. He placed me on my back. "You have large cunt lips, Mary Jo." He sucked them. His mouth found my clit. Don had never eaten me, kid that he was. I was eaten now by a mature man, who knew just what he was doing. Soon, my hips were snapping up and down, to receive more and more stimulation. When I thought that I could not stand another second without exploding in an orgasm, he quickly slid forward, thrusting his cock into me. That did it. I was racked with a violent orgasm. I screamed, moaned, twisted, turned, my legs shook, as my pussy pulsed on his cock.
Apparently, Mr. Mac Donald informed some of the other executives that I was a spectacular fuck. Two days later, Mr. William, Sr. who was fifty-five at the time asked me to stay after closing.
"I understand that you like a man to play with this," he said, as his hand ran up my pussy. When I moved my hand to cover it, he cupped my breast in his hand, while pushing me back onto my back on his couch. He did not turn me on at all. My skirt was lifted, panties lowered, as he slid between my legs to insert himself in me.
He fucked. I lie there looking at the ceiling. I figured, what the heck. If it keeps the old boy happy, it was okay by me.
The next week, I received a seventy-five dollar a week raise. It did not take an Einstein to know why. My pay was now $15, 600 a year. Big money in 1982 dollars, especially for an eighteen year old girl.
For the next two years, I was sexually very active, being fucked by Don, Mr. Mac Donald, and Mr. Williams.
Williams publishing was purchased by a man by the name of Walter Broomfield, a New York city guy who wanted to move to the country. He had just divorced his wife. He wanted a complete new environment.
Being his secretary, I came into his line of fire. Oh my God. That man made me forget all the sex that I had ever experienced. Once going to it, we would bounce from one end of his bed to the other. His trip-hammer ass would pound orgasm after orgasm out of me. When we finally would wind down, the bed would be totally soaked by our sweat. There would be at least two pools of cum on the sheets. Even my pussy leakage would leave streaks on the sheets.
The fact that he was fifteen years my senior mattered not. He was the strong silent type who always treated me as a lady. He placed a new bouquet of flowers on my desk every Monday. He was everything that I had ever dreamed of in a husband.
One night both of us lie covered in sweat on his bed. "Mary Jo. I love you. Would you consider marrying an old guy like me?"
"Walter, you have no idea how much I have prayed that you would ask me to. Yes, I will marry you. I love you."
We fell asleep in each others arms.
From then until 1999, it could be said that our marriage was made in heaven. He would come up behind me, cup my breasts in his hands, kiss me on the neck, as he said, "You know what Mary Jo? I'm the luckiest man alive."
I would turn to kiss him as I said, "yes, you are."
While having sex, he would tell me, "you love your sex. If my peter ever wears out, I'm in big trouble."
Kidding, I would respond. "Yes, I do love it so. Of course, you could always send in the second team." It was a joke that would come back to haunt me in ways that I would never have thought possible.
In July of 1999, Walter went in for a routine physical. He phoned me to tell me that he was being transported to the hospital by ambulance. During his stress test, he had severe angina. He had an immediate by-pass. After, his doctor sat Walter and I down to tell us that they could not clear all the blockages. He would be okay, but his working days, hunting, and sex were over, due to his condition, and the medicine he was to take.
I can not tell you how happy I was that my man was alive. That was all that mattered. I could adjust to not having sex, I thought, even though I was only thirty-five years of age.
Eight months later, we were at a party at the American Vets lodge, sitting next to the dance floor. Tom Flood was dancing with another man's wife, doing a sexy hoochie-coochie, with a lot of hip thrusts. I was well juiced. My eyes locked onto his crotch, which with his tight pants clearly showed a large bulge. I thought of how wonderful it would be to have him enter me. I closed my eyes, let my head tilt back, as my hand under the table rubbed hard up and down my crack. When I opened my eyes, I found Walter watching me. I flushed. I knew that he knew exactly what I was thinking. I felt so sorry. God, I had hurt the man that I loved. I wanted what he was never going to be able to provide. I started to cry.
He reached across the table. Touching my hand, he said, "we have to go. We must talk."
Just before we got in the car, I kissed him. "I'm so sorry Walter. I did not mean to hurt you."
"I know that May Jo. I also know that something must be done. You may not fully understand why I must do it, but I will try to tell you when we get home."
That ride lasted an eternity.
I was sipping on a glass of orange juice, he a can of Bud, as he begin. "Mary Jo, you are at the very peak of your womanhood, your sexuality. Before me, you were sexually very active with several men, having sex for sex sake. Since we have been married, you allowed Billy Dunn to have sex with you several times. You fucked Brad White six or seven times."
I was in shock. "But, how, how, did you know?"
That brought a deep laugh from Walter. "Ha, ha, ho, ho, ho. Mary Jo. Damn woman, you absolutely glow when you have just been fucked. I could tell every time. I know that you did not plan to fuck them, it was more that they made a smooth move on you. As I recall, it was always at parties. Their cocks were there. There was no danger, so you fucked them. It was no threat to me then. It is now. "
"What do you mean, now?"
"As it is now, if you have to sneak around to get the sex that a woman your age must have, you will be confronted with the problems of who to have sex with, and where. The easiest answer is to find one man who is willing and has a place to go. You would fuck him blind. But, it would end up a long term affair. That would kill me. It would absolutely kill me.
I started to cry. Everything he was saying was true. "Oh, Walter, I don't know what to do. I could never hurt you, ever."
"Then, you must do what I'm am now going to ask you to do."
I sat back looking at my husband. I looked into his eyes. Whatever he was about to propose, he was putting his heart and soul into doing it for me, for us. "I'm listening."
"Mary Jo. At the American Vets lodge, the country club, and other places I have access to men who are only visiting. Good men. I am going to bring some of them home to be with you in your own bed, where you will be comfortable displaying your sexuality, and exploring theirs."
"I don't think that I can handle that, Walter."
"Mary Jo. All I ask is that you give me a chance to try to set something up."
I said nothing further. My husband was willing to make a sacrifice unlike anything that I had ever heard of a man doing for his wife. I would not hurt him by raining on his parade. Perhaps, he would find no takers. It would be quite a stunt to find a man who would go with a married man to his house to have sex with his wife.
Two weeks later, I was sitting watching CSI. It was a repeat, but interesting. I heard Walter's car arrive in the drive. The garage door opened and closed. In walked Walter, accompanied by a man about his age, wearing a nice suit.
I stood. Walter introduced us. "Mary Jo, this is Fred Varney. Fred is from Cleveland. He served in the Marines." Fred gave me a nice smile. It was not a leer. "I have been looking forward to meeting you, Mary Jo."
At that moment, it dawned on me that Walter had brought Fred home to have sex with me. I flushed. My eyes blinked. I took a deep breath. I looked at Walter, only to find that his face was very serious, which unnerved me even more. "Walter, I wish that you had phoned me first. I don't know if I'm in any way ready for, well, for Fred."
.... There is more of this story ...