Kelly’s Fiftieth Birthday

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32


For my wife’s 50th birthday party I spared no expense, renting a suite at the Ritz-Carlton overlooking the Pacific Ocean, just south of Laguna Beach. It was a catered affair and the dress was formal. The event itself wasn’t a surprise for her I had promised her the party six months prior. She was expecting a fairly good number of our mutual friends, just a nice evening followed by an elegant weekend at the Ritz.

From the time we had met in college Kelly was very much a lady, a model of propriety. We met in the late 50’s, a time when sexual permissiveness was virtually nonexistent. Though a passionate participant in heavy petting she resisted my repeated assaults upon her virginity, insisting upon being unbroken until after we were married. I felt positive that had I pushed a little harder she would have relented. But, out of respect for her wishes, I never forced her resistance. What a reward I received when, on our honeymoon, she gave way and shared with me such incredible primal fervor. I never regretted my patience.

Throughout our marriage we experimented with every sexual position we could manage and tried things which many people of our generation would definitely consider kinky. On many a late night drive back home from dinner out, or a party at friend’s home, BS(before seatbelts), I tried to concentrate on the road while the thrill of her mouth on my cock brought me close to orgasm then adeptly backed off, making me look like a candidate for a D.U.I. She was always thrilled when an 18 wheeler pulled alongside, especially if there was a passenger in the cab who would look down and goggle our frolic. In these instances she never cared about trying to hold my orgasm back but would pick up the pace to titillate the observer, swallowing my urgent load as the car veered with my spasms. Many nights we would sit in a restaurant booth and coyly get each other off under the table. Once, while alone in the chapel of our church, doing a clean-up chore, she insisted that she ride me while sitting in the Pastor’s chair. And, when VCR’s became popular, we rented every straight sex porn video we could find.

While living in Huntington, West Virginia during the two early years of our marriage we were constant friends with two couples from the same church. Once at a party, after much drinking, the two couples split from one another and started kissing the other’s spouse. They had grown up in the same town and had gone to high school together. They told us they had been swinging as couples since high school and asked us to join them. Kelly declined and, much to my disappointment distanced us from them. She let me know on how shocked and disappointed she was with their behavior.

While our children were growing up, more often than not, we had to sneak a fuck, feeling like naughty teenagers when we did. But, during this time, we took weekends away and to our great enjoyment, as our sexual appetites matured, we got increasingly greater satisfaction from the pleasures of sex. It was always at her suggestion, when we would be away in a big city, that we would search for the latest sex toys and lingerie. After the kids went to college things opened up and so it seemed, so did Kelly’s attitudes. Where we had previously rented only straight sex pornos she became interested in group sex and bisexual flicks. I asked her once if she might be interested in having sex with more than one man and she became irritated with the question…told me not to be “stupid.”

We had two close friends who went through a divorce. The woman, Marta, who before the divorce had been of the same character as Kelly, went wild for sex after her husband left her. She told Kelly that she had been a “good girl” all her life, was a model wife, which got her nowhere and was now going to “fuck her brains out.” Each time they had lunch together Kelly would come home besotted with lust and would work me out to exhaustion. To me it seemed that I was the beneficiary of Marta’s divorce and my brains were the ones being fucked out.

It was three months before Kelly’s 50th birthday when she told me that Marta had participated in “a few gang bangs.” The conversation about it got her so worked up that she attacked me ’til I just couldn’t get it up anymore. Lying next to her that night, exhausted, I asked again if she would like to have sex with more than one man. This time she smile and, with a dreamy look in here eyes, laid back with her hands behind her head and sighed. I wanted to plan a party for this special birthday… wanted to make it a surprise for her. Tongue in cheek I asked her, “What would you like to do for your 50th birthday Kelly?” I thought she was joking when she answered, “A gangbang would be fun,” immediately bursting into laughter. She treated it as a joke but I didn’t. And the surprise I would be planning would challenge the joke.

We walked into the Ritz-Carlton that night arm-in-arm. Kelly was wearing a long black gown, backless; she was wearing no bra (no panties either). The dress was low cut and exposed her elegant cleavage, showing her bahçelievler escort bayan nipples through the gauzy fabric as well. Her tight hips were smooth with no hint of panty lines. At fifty she was remarkably well preserved. And tonight, at least, she would be advertising her wares. I’m sure she though nothing would come of it. But, when she would discover the surprise I had waiting in the suite I knew that she would become wet with excitement.

She had already met two of the men who were waiting in the suite at a fund raiser. Her friend Marta had casually introduced us that night, confiding to Kelly that Mike Petersen and Phillip Bosco were two of her “regulars,” a fact that Kelly excitedly let me in on during the course of the evening. That explained why she was staring at them all evening. I found a way to get each of them aside during the event, discretely getting their business cards. When I called them at their offices and told them what I had in mind, each was eager to participate. Phillip commented to me about what a spectacular looking woman my wife was and that he was already getting worked up.

I took Marta into my confidence about my plans and as an icebreaker she put together a dinner party for three couples, she and Phillip, Mike and another of her female “swinging” friends and Kelly and me. During the ride home from the dinner party Kelly eschewed the use of her seatbelt and gave me a wild blowjob deja vu our pre-seatbelt years. It was clear that the entendres during the evening, the looks between Marta and her female friend and the suave sexuality of the two men had set the hook in her mouth, which was working so vigorously on my cock.

The surprise was shaping up nicely. The piece de resistance however, was just serendipity. His name was Warren Thatcher. Kelly and Warren went steady in high school. He was captain of the football team and she was Homecoming Queen. He was crushed when Kelly threw him over for me, a nonentity in the world of royalty. Warren had become a successful lawyer in Chicago. He attended our wedding with his new wife at the time, told me what a lucky guy I was to have ended up with Kelly. Through high school friends Kelly knew that Warren was on his third marriage and was currently going through a divorce. But she hadn’t talked with him since or wedding. It seemed too good to be true when two weeks before the birthday party I got a call at the office from Warren Thatcher. He reminded me of our meeting at the wedding and gave a small litany of his and Kelly’s relationship in high school. Kelly had mentioned him from time to time, and I had seen pictures of him and her in their high school yearbook. He still exhibited an old fashioned respect (and a long standing lust which I knew he had to have) for my wife…was calling to ask my permission to send a case of Dom Perignon for a party that “I know you’ll be planning for her 50th birthday. Still can’t believe we are both that old,” he chuckled.

“Not only am I having a party,” I said, “I’ll gladly accept the champagne…and, how would you like to come?” He thought I was kidding. But I insisted…told him that Kelly had come of age in more ways than one… explained how her friend Marta had been seducing her into a desire for sex with multiple partners. He became nervously conversational. I could sense that he was licking his lips and would have taken bets that he was fondling his crotch as we talked. The silence on the other end of the phone became deafening as I laid out what I planned for the evening, even offering him first dibs. His attempt at righteous indignation was well played (Good lawyer, I thought.) And I kept my laughter to myself when, after increasingly mild protests, he accepted the invitation to come west for the party.

“How many are coming to the party Peter?”

It was just the week prior. I’d been surprised that she hadn’t asked the question before. We had gone over the guest list together and she approved all who I wanted to ask. She seemed to be content to let me take care of the details, something she wouldn’t have done under usual circumstances. She was pleased when I told her that everybody I asked was coming. Then I had to call each person that I named and tell them I had invited them to a “fake” party, that I was going to take her on a cruise for the weekend, but wanted it to be a surprise. All of the women thought it romantic of me and promised to go along with scam if with, by chance, Kelly should say anything to them about the party. To her question I replied, “Everybody we asked is coming, remember?”

The door to the suite was open, like a hospitality suite. As we approached Kelly looked at me. The fact that so little noise was coming from a suite where so many people should be was obvious. As we drew closer she asked, “Are you sure the invitations were clear Peter?” As we walked into the room her face registered shock. She looked at the three men dressed in tuxedos then looked at me with a whispered question, “Peter?”

Phillip and Mike balgat escort were standing together, both nursing whiskeys. They smiled and said hi to me and happy birthday to Kelly. The third man stood at the bar, his back to us. Kelly still couldn’t understand why the other people weren’t there. She hadn’t figured out yet that only men were present; this was supposed to be a party predominantly of couples. I can only imagine what might have been going through her mind, knowing these two men’s involvement with Marta. With a troubled look she asked a little louder, “Peter?” The man at the bar was holding a towel over the neck of a champagne bottle that made a muffled “pop” when he twisted it. There were five champagne flutes lined up on the bar and he filled each one. “Peter?” Kelly asked, this time in an anxious little girl voice.

The man at the bar turned around. Smiling broadly he said, “Your champagne, Kelly,” handing her a glass and then me, then Phillip and Mike, finally picking up his own. She hadn’t yet recognized him but the voice was registering. “To the fifty wonderful years of your life,” he said raising his glass, and added, “…and the three wonderful years of our youth.”

“Warren Thatcher?” she asked not believing her question. “Warren?” Then to me, “Peter?” Then,” WARREN!” Her eyes, like a serial camera click, click, clicked on Thatcher’s face. She looked at me and then at Phillip and Mike … again at me. The muscles in her jaw rippled and flexed, color draining from her face. She whispered, “oh my God.” Her face flushed red and she yelled, “Oh, My GOD!”

I held my glass high and said, “To Kelly and her gang.” The three men echoed my toast and drank.

Kelly was too astonished to drink. She stood like a deer in the road frozen by headlights, not realizing that her headlights (braless), through the silk fabric of her dress were becoming decidedly pronounced. I nodded to Warren and he walked over and wrapped her in a bear hug, lifting her off her feet. He looked over at me and I nodded again. Putting her down, he lifted her chin and kissed her lips. Her eyes peered out of their corners at me. I nodded and she allowed the kiss, exhaled then opened her lips for his tongue. Phillip, Mike and I looked at each other and grinned as Warren’s hands dropped to Kelly’s well shaped bottom, pulling her tightly against him. She broke the kiss and looked at me as if for permission. “Peter?”

“Why don’t you and Warren go into the other room,” I said, indicating with my eyes the open door of one of the bedrooms, “and catch up on old times.”

“Peter?” she asked again, this time in a whimper. I nodded; go ahead. Her hand in his she meekly followed Thatcher into the bedroom. The door closed.

Philip and Mike looked at me and at each other and laughed. “I think you set us up for a hell of an evening Peter.” Phillip said, “…one hellavan evening.”

The three of us had our fill of snacks. We had all taken off our jackets and loosened our ties…were pretty mellow having imbibed the smooth Dom Perignon. At first there had been nothing behind the door but silence for about ten minutes then giggling then uproarious laughter, silence again, then the cooing sound of Kelly’s pleasure, then urgent sounds of need, pre-orgasmic screams and orgasmic grunts from both of them. Then, silence.

Through the vigil Mike and Phillip looked at each other knowingly, enjoying the preamble to what should be a wild evening. I was nervous and they knew it. Mike patted my shoulder and assured, “It’s going to be great. Kelly’s hot. She’s already into it.”

When the door finally opened Thatcher came out first. His coat was off, his tie loosened, the crotch of his black tuxedo trousers showed evidence of his white semen. His grin was that of a naughty teenaged boy. Kelly followed. Her lipstick had been kissed off, some probably smeared on Warren’s underwear. Her lovely auburn hair, which had been done up in a classic French twist when we came in, had fallen around her shoulders. Her black silk dress was wrinkled from the waist down and her breasts seemed enhanced, her nipples poking tents in the fabric.

She came to me, draped her arms over my shoulders and looked up through her eyelids. “Peter, you are such a naughty man,” she said in a husky voice. I couldn’t believe how soft her lips were when she kissed me; the thought of them sliding on Warren’s hard shaft drove a lighting bolt into my crotch. Kelly’s tongue slithered into my mouth and snaked around mine. The taste in her mouth was different than I had ever sensed and I realized that I was tasting residue of her first boy friends cum. Her hand clutched my hard cock through the fabric of my trousers then fumbled with my zipper. She broke the kiss, looked me in the eyes, moisture welling in hers. “Thank you, Peter. Thank you for my surprise.” Dropping to her knees she pulled my member free and began licking it, at the same time looking up at the three men who had gathered behind my back. As she sucked my length deeply inside her mouth she batıkent escort bayan began to purr and worked her lips and tongue covering and uncovering my glistening, pink rod.

Phillip seemed to be the most assured man at the party. He undid the studs of his tuxedo shirt, his cuffs and stripped his shirt, kicked off his low cut patent shoes, dropped his trousers, hooked off his socks with his big toes and peeled down his bikini shorts. His cock was only partially hard, dangling in an arc of plumping flesh. He dropped to his knees behind Kelly undoing the back of her gown and baring the top of her torso. As Kelly’s head moved over my cock he kissed the back of her neck which made her wince then continued down her neck and shoulders, stroking his penis to full erection. He put his arms around her waist he helped her lift her legs off the length of her dress and bared her smooth, white bottom. Pulling her to her knees he parted her cheeks and with his right hand on his cock lubricated the head with the wetness of her groove, enhanced by Thatcher’s slippery semen. He positioned the helmet of his head against her threshold and popped it past her sphincter. Grunting her pleasure, which was muted by my throbbing cock, Kelly bucked back to bury his rod deep inside her. Phillip slowly fucked Kelly’s eager pussy, at the same time palming and fondling her dangling breasts.

I looked over at Warren Thatcher who couldn’t seem to believe that he was there. The school boy grin that was on his face when he came out of the bedroom was replaced with astonished awe as he saw the girl he had loved in high school, his prom queen, on her knees grunting and bucking with one cock in her mouth and one in the pussy he had just filled. I saw Mike, who was now completely naked, whisper something to him. Warren sat down and started to undress. Then both men, completely naked and rigidly erect, kneeled on either side of Kelly. Warren followed Mike’s lead when he took her hand and wrapped it around his cock. Then, all five of us were involved.

There was a knock at the door. Kelly looked at me, worried like we were going to be busted. I pulled my cock out of her mouth. “Oh my God Peter,” she said.

I laughed and told her, “Don’t worry baby. It’s Marta. She’s coming with a video camera to record the festivities.”

“Damn you Peter,” she said then smiled in relief. But she was too distracted by Phillip’s cock slamming her pussy, making her breasts flop and jiggle. She bit her lip as she bucked back, at the same time flailing on Mike’s and Warren’s cocks with her hands. With her head down, waggling wildly, she said, “I can’t believe Marta’s in on this,” her voice vibrated with Phillip’s slams.

I was the only one still dressed, unless you consider that Kelly’s gown was like a Japanese obi around her body. She was naked with the exception of her black thigh highs. My cock, glistening with Kelly’s saliva, was sticking out of my fly, dangling somewhat and flopping from side to side as I walked to the door. The crotch area of my tuxedo trousers was soaked with Kelly’s spit. Standing behind the door I opened it and peeked around. Marta was standing at the door, the camera in her hand.

She walked in, looked around the room, marveling at the scene of Kelly on her knees, being fucked by Phillip and jacking off Mike and Warren. “Is that Kelly’s boyfriend,” she asked me. I nodded. She raised the camera and turned it on. “Nice cock,” she said to me, “Always wanted to see what it looked like.” She wrapped the fingers of her free hand around it and started stroking, quickly bringing it back to its full rigidity.

Her hand working on my cock she coaxed me toward the group on the floor. “Hi Phillip,” she said as she bent down and took a close up of his cock ramming Kelly’s hole. “Is her cunt as tight as mine,” she asked. Phillip was too busy grunting as he slammed Kelly’s pussy. Marta kept filming. “Oh, that’s cool,” she said. “Her pussy ring is pulling out like a mouth around his cock. See it Peter?” Phillips face was crimson and beads of sweat had formed on his receding hairline. “God this is hot, ya gonna cum Phillip?” She knew he was; she had been with him enough to know when he was ready. He looked up, his eyes beginning to glaze, and nodded his head yes. “Pull it out Phillip; cum on her ass… it’ll make a good camera shot.” He pulled out and jacked his cock with his hand, threw his head all the way back and groaned as a long white stream laid a line on Kelly’s back and ass, contrasting with her bunched up black gown. He kept stroking, squeezing harder, spurting another gout and spattering white flecks on the black fabric and her white skin. “Fucking cool!” Marta said.

She was squatting, looked quite appealing in her tight black Tee, which showed off her 33 B breasts (her almond sized nipples standing out), and gray suede mini-skirt. From where I stood I could see the naked flesh at the top of her black thigh highs. The way the light was hitting her I could tell that her ass was bare, no panties. She looked at me and said, “Don’t just stand there Peter. Come here and do something useful,” and handed me the camera. “Keep it on me,” she said as she lowered herself to her knees. She took Phillip’s sperm glossed phallus, put it in her mouth and cleaned it off. Then, patting Kelly’s behind she said, “You have one sweet tasting pussy my friend.”

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Leave a Reply

E-posta adresiniz yayınlanmayacak. Gerekli alanlar * ile işaretlenmişlerdir