I was glad that Sarah had agreed to go to the conference with me. We’d been married for nearly 19 years and never seemed to go anywhere alone together any more. I was also surprised that she had agreed, as she had to know that for the most part she would be bored out of her skull, so maybe she was thinking along the same lines, and I was glad because she seemed to have lost interest in sex lately. And it wasn’t as if it was far away, barely a five hour drive in fact, and my company offered to pay for the hotel room, so I thought we might as well take advantage.
We packed enough stuff for the overnight stay. We’d agreed to let out 18 year old son, Brent, have some friends stay over, on the condition that there were no girls. I was a little tentative when the first of them began turning up just as we were leaving, as I had only counted on one or two friends, but Sarah said we could trust him.
I wasn’t so convinced; I had noticed that Brent was becoming, well, not exactly rebellious towards me, but perhaps a little flippant and dismissive, especially at times like this when I tried to lay down any rules. But I reasoned that it was to be expected in a young man his age, and there was no way I was going to miss a night of randy hotel sex with my wife over this, so we got in the car and off we went, leaving the house at the mercy of the band of loud, energetic teenagers.
As it turned out, I might as well have insisted on staying. A group of guys from our office headed to the hotel bar following last assembly of the day, and, being the macho (so we liked to think), overly-competitive guys that we are, we proceeded to attempt to drink each other under the table. I didn’t even realise how much I’d drunk, or how late it was, until I got a very short text message from Sarah a few hours later just saying, ‘Where the fuck are you?’
I don’t really remember much of the evening after that. I vaguely remembered throwing up on the floor of the hotel room once, maybe twice, but the rest of it was a blur. When I finally awoke in the morning, with a pounding headache, I was alone in the room with an angry note from Sarah informing me that she’d never been so embarrassed, having to call room service to clean up her 40 year old drunk husband’s puke from the hotel room carpet, and that she was getting a cab home. A couple of Advil were pointedly taped to the note.
I had to spend the second half of the conference with a thundering hangover, pining for the night of hot sex I’d totally blown, and desperately thinking of ways to make it up to Sarah. By the time I clambered into the car at 5.30pm, I hadn’t come up with anything, resolved to the fact that I was going to have to face the music and plead for forgiveness, especially if I wanted to have sex ever again.
When I pulled up outside our house a few hours later about 9.30pm, I couldn’t get onto the driveway as there were already several cars parked there, which I recognized as belonging to some of my son’s friends. The party was only supposed to be for one night, as far as I knew, and I also presumed that Sarah was back, so the presence of the cars confused me. It was possible she had gone to her mom’s or a friend’s house and Brent and his friends had decided to stretch out the party, though he had to know we were due back about now.
I was going to walk right in through the door, but something told me that I should get the lay of the land first, partly to find out whether my wife was actually home, and also to find out exactly what sort of teenage post-party hell I was walking into. I felt a tad guilty, peeping through the windows of my own house to spy on my wife and our son, but I rationalised it as just a quick check to see what I was in for.
I walked as quietly as I could up to the lounge window and peeped through the window. The light were on and the curtains were open a crack, and I could see there were a couple of guys either passed out or zoned out on the couch or on the floor, all of them only half-dressed, every available flat surface covered in beer cans, beer bottles, and even one or two bottles of spirits, not to mention the ornate bong perched on the coffee table for all the world to see. But there were only about two or three guys there, and no sign of my son, so, though I frowned at the fact that my 18 year old son and his friends were drinking heavily and smoking pot, essentially confirming my misgivings of the day before, I moved around the side of the house, where I could see the lights were on in the master bedroom.
Well, I couldn’t really have predicted what I saw, not in a million years.
The curtains were more open here, giving me a good view of the whole room, and when I looked inside I was initially shocked by the crowd of boys I saw, angry that they’d invaded our privacy, but that was nothing to what I felt when I took in the rest of the scene.
On the bed, naked from the waist down was my wife Sarah, her big boobs exposed and bouncing around. She was lying on her back, her legs wrapped around the waist of my son’s best friend, Tom, his tight pint-sized butt rising and falling smoothly and fluidly as he pounded his 18 year old dick into her snatch missionary style. Off to the side, watching the events very intently and with apparently great enjoyment, sat Brent, our son, ardently jacking a truly massive slab of teen meat as his bud fucked his mom right in front of him like it was most natural thing in the world.
I was paralyzed by the sight, my entire body frozen in place, my mind too it seemed, as all I could do was stare soundlessly in disbelief. I wanted to scream out loud, to crash through the window and tear Brent, Tom and their smirking, cat-calling friends limb from limb. How could Sarah do this to me, cuckold me with another guy, a guy who was still practically a kid no less, while our son and all his friends looked on in admiration? I should have been ranting and raging until the sky fell, or at least crumpled on the ground, sobbing broken-heartedly. But I didn’t. Partly because I was still in shock, but mostly because my dick talked me out of it.
In spite of my inner turmoil, I suddenly realised that my cock was rock hard in my pants, the tent poking up against the wall of our house as I watched my wife get well and truly laid by a teenager speaking volumes about what I really felt beneath the feelings of shock and anger, which seemed suddenly superficial.
I ducked my head down closer to the windowsill, for fear of being seen, my eyes wide as I watched the disturbingly hot scene continue before my eyes, my breath short and my heart racing, my hips moving slowly so that my confined erection rubbed pleasurably against the smooth wooden boards beneath the window. I took a quick look around behind me to make sure nobody was about, but the house next door was dark and silent, and nobody would be able to see me from the street, even if it had been broad daylight out. Having ensured that I wasn’t likely to get caught in the act, not immediately anyhow, I eagerly turned my eyes back to the window.
I couldn’t help but admire Tom’s energy as he pumped his hips up and down into Sarah. Even through the double-glazed windows I could hear the boisterous cheers and whoops and raucous encouragement from the other boys, and I imagined the smell to be akin to that of a high school locker room, all cheap deodorant, a little bit of aftershave, and that funk of raw testosterone and teenage hormones permeating the air, combined with the heady funk of hardcore raunchy sex.
The boys were all shirtless to a man, several wearing baseball caps, a couple of them still in their board shorts and socks, the rest either stripped to their boxer briefs or naked altogether. They were all built along the same lines; smooth, tight, rippling muscles, some a little more beefy, others more lean, all displaying annoyingly large erections for their age. Most, if not all, were easily bigger than my measly 4.5 inches, and my own son was definitely in the top two in terms of length, and pretty thick too.
I wondered absently where in the family he got that from; certainly not from me. Then I remembered the huge bulge in my father-in-law’s pants that intimidated me so whenever we met, and I felt a little shred of my manhood shrivel and die inside me as I gazed enviously at my son’s proud cock, more than double the size of mine, which was straining harder and harder in my pants by the minute. I didn’t think I’d been so hard since I was 18 myself.
A couple of minutes of watching later I saw Tom slam himself to the hilt in my wife’s pussy and I heard him holler out loud that he was cumming, before his breathless voice was drowned by the roars and cheers of his comrades. He thrust and twitched for a few moments before his taut body finally sagged in exhaustion, the sweat dripping from his smooth muscles as he pushed himself up and back, giving me a side-on view of his dripping erection, still hard as an iron bar by the looks of it, clearly the biggest of the group length-wise, but the shaft was much thinner than Brent’s. Through all the turmoil in my mind over what I was watching, I felt a small glow of pride at my son, which suddenly turned back to disbelief as I saw him stand, swagger over to where his mom lay prone on the bed, her pussy leaking copious globs of jism onto the linen sheets, swaying his hips as he walked so that his huge bone swung dangerously in front of him, got into a kneeling position on the mattress by her head, and began feeding his bone into her wide open mouth, my wife sucking her son’s cock into her throat with apparent relish.
The raucous cheering of the boys in the room reached a fever pitch as they watched Brent get deep slurpy head from his mom, and one of the sitting boys – I think he was called Liam – stood up and laid down on the bed beside her, hands behind his back, his towering cock arching over his washboard stomach as I saw him mouth something to my wife as she pumped her mouth down on the first five inches of Brent’s cock.
I saw her nod to what Liam was saying, and then she extracted our son’s cock from her mouth and got to her knees. The boys cheered even louder and began chanting and whooping as Sarah swung her leg over to straddle the boy, her hand playing with his leaking cock as he beamed eagerly up at her, one hand coming out from behind his head to fondle one of her heaving breasts, and then she shuffled forward so that he was pressed against her labia, teased him a little, and then she lowered herself down, her pussy accepting his entire length inside her in one go.
Was cock was still straining as I watched, open mouthed, as Sarah ground herself into the boy’s lap, her cunt hugging his erection snugly, gyrating her curvy hips around, and then she started to ride him passionately, her large tits heaving up and down as she bounced, the watching boys chanting, “Cowgirl, cowgirl, cowgirl!”
This continued for a few minutes, until Liam apparently got tired of being the passive party and began thrusting up into her insistently, and Sarah rose up on her knees to support herself as the boy began to power fuck up into her with blinding speed, causing her to throw her head back and squeal out loud, her throat emitting the sort of sounds I had never heard her make while in bed with me.
As this was happening Brent was also apparently becoming bored kneeling on the sidelines jacking off while his friend got all the action. As Sarah threw her head back again, her mouth opening and closing soundlessly as the boy beneath her rammed her like a diesel engine, I saw my son get to his feet on the mattress, set himself astride Liam’s chest and push his boner in his mom’s face, upon which she eagerly slurped it back into her mouth with apparent relish, his fat cream-filled balls slapping against her chin as he took advantage of the better position to force himself in to the root.
My wife gagged a couple of times around our son’s thick shaft, but other than that she had no obvious trouble with the intrusion, not even when he began to fuck her face, his rock hard abs bumping into her forehead as he rapidly pumped his hips back and forth, his strong hands holding her head still. Everything about their demeanour suggested this was not the first time such inappropriate activities had taken place between the two of them.
Then, just as I thought I could take no more, I saw another boy stand up, whip off his underwear with a showman’s flourish and swagger over to the bed to turn the threesome into a foursome. For a moment I was confused as to where he was going to fit himself in, though at the back of my mind I already knew perfectly well.
Sure enough, the boy, whose name I didn’t know, crawled up so that he was kneeled behind Sarah, lined up his long, slim cock, and pushed it up her ass in one long, smooth motion.
I saw Sarah go rigid, her eyes flying open and rolling up into her head. She jerked a few times and I realised with a thrill that the brazen force of the penetration had made her cum, hard, by the looks of it. Brent and Liam never relented their assault on her mouth and cunt; if anything they increased the intensity of their fucking.
The new contended held himself still for a moment as my wife orgasmed, then began to dick her ass with long smooth strokes, bringing his hands around to grasp her body just below her beasts, increasing the speed of his strokes steadily until he had matched the ferocity of the other two, the sound of flesh slapping wetly against flesh now audible to me even over the sound of the spectating boys, who were now chanting “DP, DP, DP!”
I marvelled at the energy and sheer unadulterated stamina of the three boys as the triple pounding of my wife went on and on and on, the minutes seeming to stretch into hours and still they rammed her like wild animals, never losing pace or that maniacal speed, Sarah’s body flopping around between them like a ragdoll, her weight largely supported by their pounding cocks in her every available orifice.
Finally, I saw Brent throw his head back, his body tensing, every muscle standing out in relief as he filled him mom’s stomach with his seed. Moments later, I saw the other two also tense, the unknown boy driving himself as far as he would go as he went rigid, his body jerking as he unleashed the contents of his balls into my wife’s ass. Liam didn’t stop and I saw him grimace wildly as he fucked through his orgasm like a man possessed, his copious teen load spurting out onto his hairless stomach, the juices churned up by his thundering cock like whipped cream.
It was too much for me. I gripped my cock to try and stop the inevitable, but it was too late; the sight of the three powerful superior teenagers, each one of them alone ten times the man I had ever been, brutally inseminating my darling wife – who would, had it not been for my excesses last night, have been riding my own cock with hopefully half the appetite I had seen her display tonight – pushed me over the edge. I couldn’t silence my desperate moans as I collapsed on the grass, my cock filling my underwear with my own load, soaking through my slacks to form a big wet patch. I continued to grunt and moan as I jerked and twitched, overcome by the throes of orgasm, the scenes I had witnessed through the window in the past half hour racing across my mind’s eye like a fast movie reel.
After a couple of minutes, as I was lying panting and practically sobbing on my back on the gravel, I heard footsteps crunching towards me. I turned my head in alarm, wondering who it was who caught me. If it was any of the neighbours or, god forbid, a cop, then I was toast. My reputation in the neighbourhood would be mud.
But it was Brent. He stood over me like a giant, his hands on his hips, the sweat still glinting on his bare chest, his baggy shorts tenting menacingly, smirking down at me like the cat that caught the canary.
“Enjoy the show, dad?”
There were suddenly other footsteps, and the next second I was being dragged to my feet, then the bedroom window had been flung open, and the strong hands that were holding me were bundling me through it, so that I fell to the carpeted floor with a dazed thump.
The eyes of all the boys were on me, and I suddenly felt an inch high, though I was old enough to be any of their dads. They were all grinning at me with no shred of contrition or guilt, and I heard a few poorly stifled sniggers ripple among them. I looked down and saw the spreading stain in my grey slacks and turned bright red, dropping my eyes to the floor in shame as the mocking laughter grew louder.
“Well, Stanley, I hope this teaches you a well-earned lesson about the evils of drinking to excess!” I heard from the bed, and raised my head to meet the cold hard eyes of my wife, glaring down at me with grim satisfaction. Even with jizz dripping down her chin, and onto the bed from her ass and cunt, I couldn’t bring myself to hold her gaze for long, and I dropped my eyes to the floor again, feeling utterly wretched and worthless.
“Well now that he knows our secret, mom, it looks to me like he wouldn’t mind joining in!”
I looked up again to see Brent and the two other boys from outside re-entering the room from the hall, my son still flashing his sneering, shit-eating smirk. The tent in his shorts didn’t seem to have gone down at all, and I found my eyes following it, as though hypnotized. How had I failed to notice how big he was growing down there?
“Yes, I agree, sweetie,” Sarah said decisively from the bed. “Stanley, come up here. Now.”
Some dormant submissive programming somewhere inside me flicked on like a light bulb, and I found myself crawling across the carpet to the bed at my wife’s directed order. I heard the laughter from the boys growing louder.
“Stand up,” Sarah barked like a drill sergeant, making me jump. “And take your clothes off. All of them.”
I did as I was told, my face burning even redder as I heard the boys burst into ribald laughter at the sight of my pitiful pin-dick, which was already treacherously hard again. I glanced over and saw them pointing at my crotch, still wet from my hands-free orgasm, practically rolling on the floor with gleeful mirth, and I felt yet more of what manhood I still possessed shrivel up inside me. I must’ve been smaller when hard than some of them were when soft.
“Now, listen; I’ve been fucked by all these boys multiple times since I got home last night, better than I have been in all my nineteen years of sharing my bed with you, at least until our son was old enough to take over those duties from you. I was fully prepared to give you one last chance to fuck me good and properly last night after the conference – though I had no intention of giving up Brent’s huge cock – but you chose to drink to the point that you couldn’t even go for a shit by yourself, let alone get that ridiculous little thing hard. I clearly put WAY too much confidence in you. But I will say one thing; the only thing these boys can’t do better than you is eat pussy.”