Chapter 1: Brad and Angie

“You ready yet, babe?” Brad called as he paced impatiently. Why did Angie need so much time to get fucking ready? It irked him because surely all she had to do was brush her hair and pull a short dress on?

In the bathroom, sitting on the commode, Angie rolled her eyes. “Unwad your knickers, you impatient prick! I’m still waiting for the last of the douche to run out of my ass!”

“Oh,” Brad replied. “You’ve decided to let a watcher have your ass then?”

Angie exited the bathroom, still drying her hands. “You suggested it the last time we went dogging.”

“Actually, I’m pretty sure I said you should take on three of them at once—ass, cunt, and mouth.”

“Yeah, not sure I’m ready to be that slutty yet.”

Brad casually fingered his wife’s dripping cooze. “Of course you are. You’re creaming on my fingers just thinking about it.”

Angie giggled as she thrust her twat at her husband’s fingers. She said, “Maybe one for my mouth and pussy simultaneously, but not three at once. I might next time if we go out after dark.”

Brad shrugged, accepting her decision. “I’ve got the camera. Have you got the masquerade masks?”

“Yes, I’ve got some lube in my purse, too. You know? Just in case.”

Brad slapped Angie’s barely covered ass as she pushed past him in the doorway. “You’re going to do it. Your inner slut is raging at the moment.”

“Maybe,” Angie replied, dragging every syllable out. She giggled again, and her eyes sparkled as she considered what they were about to do. They got in Brad’s Mondeo and left for a new dogging spot Brad had found. As Brad drove, Angie remembered when they started dogging together.

Her and Brad’s sex life had become staid and boring after nearly ten years of marriage. They didn’t want kids, weren’t allowed a dog in their rented unit, and couldn’t stand cats. Their friends all had babies or toddlers, so they didn’t go out much. They also both had high-stress jobs that left them exhausted every night, so they no longer entertained at home.

After Angie slapped Brad’s hand away for the fortieth time in as many days when he tried to interest her in sex, he grumbled, “What’s the point of us even being married? We don’t go out. We’re not having kids, we’re not intimate, and we never fuck anymore. At least if I were single, I could go to a bar and pick up a fuck.” Brad got out of bed and stormed out of the room.

Angie lay on her back, staring at the ceiling for over an hour. She wondered how things had gotten so bad. It started when they wanted to buy a house. To get enough money for the deposit, they’d cut right back on the things they did for fun. They made their lunches every day and took them to work instead of meeting at a café like they did before. Because when they left their offices to meet and eat their lunches, they always bought coffee, they both ate in their break rooms separately.

Friday and Saturday nights that used to be spent at their local pub or eating at a restaurant were now spent at home drinking tea in front of the TV. They’d eliminated virtually all alcohol from their lives, choosing to save that money instead. Brad no longer brought home a joint occasionally, and Angie stopped buying ecstasy for them to share.

Prior to ceasing her outings, Angie delighted in taunting the males at the bars and nightclubs they frequented, and Brad revelled in her being groped and her caressing the men’s inflated trousers. It took two years after they got together for Angie to grant Brad’s wish and blow a guy in a dark corner of a nightclub. Angie returned to Brad, fearful of his reaction. She giggled when he dragged her out to their car and into the backseat. She laughed harder as he desperately ripped open his fly and extracted his humongous 9-inch dick. Her laughs turned to gasps when he ripped her knickers off and ploughed into her sopping gash. Brad surprised Angie when he kissed her passionately despite her having just given a stranger a hummer. After that night, Angie often had illicit sex in bars and nightclubs. Not that she was into it, but her husband was insatiable a month afterward.

Angie sighed, realising she’d been too quick to slap her husband away. Her mother had warned her it took work to keep a marriage’s fires stoked, but Angie had forgotten her advice, and let the passion fade in pursuit of buying a house they didn’t need. She rolled out of bed, dropped her nightie, and, naked, padded down the hall to the lounge, where she thought Brad would be watching TV. He wasn’t there. Angie crept to his office, knowing he’d have porn playing. She was curious to see what currently floated his boat.

Angie slowly opened the door, hoping not to make Brad aware of her presence. She needn’t have worried because he had earphones on and wouldn’t have heard her if she had stormed in. Brad’s computer desk faced the street with his back to the door, so Angie could see the screen past his shoulder. She crept closer and saw the rhythmic movement of his right hand. She grinned, knowing Brad was spanking the monkey, and her eyes shifted to the screen to see what he was masturbating to.

That Brad watched a dogging film didn’t surprise Angie in the least. Although he hadn’t discussed dogging with her, the genre fit within Brad’s voyeuristic tendencies. She touched Brad’s shoulder and said, “Caught you!”

Almost jumping out of the chair, Brad shouted, “Fuck me! What the fuck?” His face turned bright red, and he hurriedly tried to shut the clip down and stuff his throbbing cock back into his pyjama bottoms.

“Leave it,” Angie said as she sat on his lap and took over the mouse. She backed the film to the beginning and leant back against her husband. They were still until, excited by the scene, Angie took Brad’s hand and placed it on her small breast.

Angie had a typical English-stock woman’s pear-shape. Her shoulders were narrower than her hips, and she had small breasts above a narrow waist and a big ass. Stocky thighs tapered to delicate ankles and petite feet. With her reddish-blonde hair, blue eyes, pixie nose, dimpled chin, and peaches and cream complexion, Angie was the poster-girl for British beauty.

“Do you want to do that?” Angie asked when the clip ended. The female star had slid off the cock in her pussy at the last second and taken the man’s load directly in her face. “Would you like to go dogging and have some random guy do that to me?”

“No, of course not,” Brad said protestingly. “It’s just porn, right? Just a fantasy.”

Angie fished her husband’s enormous cock back through his pyjamas fly. “Yeah, but this says differently.” She positioned herself and lowered onto it, sighing happily as she realised how much she’d missed having Brad’s massive member inside her. Many of her friends complained about their husband’s small and/or limp dicks, but not Angie! Her husband had a literal monster-cock that filled and stretched her delightfully and never failed to erect when she needed it to. “So, shall I put on a dress without a bra or knickers and we’ll go to a nearby dogging spot and see what happens?”

Brad put a hand on her chin and turned Angie’s head to face him. “Do you want to, or is this one of those things like blowing guys in a bar that you’re doing for me?”

“How hot and wet does my coochie feel around your salami sausage?”

“Exceptionally.”

“Does that answer your question?”

“It does.”

“So, shall I?”