I was lucky, I know that. Back in the late 80’s when I went up to university, things were easier, financially speaking, and on top of that I lodged with a couple my parents knew well. I wouldn’t say they were close friends of the family, but they were happy enough to accept a weekly cheque for rent which was more or less nominal. As a consequence, I lived very cheaply indeed, with more than enough money for my needs, which meant I could put some by for a rainy day. I wasn’t a party animal, although I socialized. I wasn’t a big drinker, so I didn’t spend as much money on alcohol as my peers either. The one downside to my living arrangements was that I was reluctant to bring girls “home”. I don’t mean to imply that my hosts would have objected, or that they in any way made me feel that certain things were “not done”, just that the area was quite posh, and I didn’t want to queer my pitch by being seen in the company of scantily dressed girls at strange hours, and being accused of bringing down the tone of the area.

My room was a converted garage, which had its own entrance, and also a connecting door to a scullery, which in turn led to the kitchen and then to the rest of the house, so it wasn’t as if I couldn’t easily have people over without Greg and Emily being any the wiser. I can think of two occasions when I did do that, but for the most part I was happy enough going home with the girls, so that I could up and leave whenever I felt like it. I’ve always been a quick learner, and a good judge of character. I quickly learned to see, at a glance, which girls were likely to slap you in the face for trying your luck, and which were happy enough to let you have your way with them, without being too bothered if you called them again or not.

Greg and Emily were OK. Both had high powered jobs; he was something in the City and she was Chief Advisor on something or other to some local authority or other. There was a bit of an age gap between them; he was a little north of 45, and she was about 40. Being wholly focused on their careers, they’d never had kids. Thankfully they weren’t the kind of people who were likely to treat me as some kind of substitute for the children they didn’t have. Having finally struck out on my own, free to make my own choices, the last thing I needed was a kind of pseudo-parental relationship. On the contrary, Greg was interested in the ideas I was working on – possibly with an eye to some kind of financial gain. That never materialized, but I like to think he recognized my obvious intelligence. He treated me more like an equal than any man his age ever had.

Between them, Greg and Emily were, in fact, very accommodating. Far from expecting me to keep largely to my own quarters, they positively encouraged me to borrow their books and watch TV with them. Since both were high flyers, they spent a lot of time away from home, and I had the run of the place. Relative solitude didn’t bother me. I’ve always been able to amuse myself. There were no restrictions placed on my movement in their home, and I enjoyed roaming the rooms, indulging my inquisitive streak.

Anyway, it was May 1989 when the important stuff began to happen. I remember it well, because a large part of my future was influenced by that which began then. That part of my life that I enjoy more than any other; my insatiable appetite for fucking other men’s wives.

It was an unusually hot May, as I remember it. This particular day it was certainly sweltering. I’d spent the best part of the day at the library, sweating buckets. In those days there was no internet, so study required actually pouring over dusty or not so dusty tomes. By four I was back home, and immediately went through to the kitchen for something cold to down with a handful of ice cubes. Quaffing the drink in one, I saw through the kitchen window that the door to the shed at the bottom of the garden was open.

That was odd. There was a gardener who came in, a retired man we knew as Hodges, who supplemented his pension money on the side, but he was usually long gone by four. With nothing better to do, I decided I might as well check to make sure there was nothing untoward going on. The sun beat down as I crossed the lawn. And then, as I closed in on the shed, I heard the sounds.

They were unmistakable sounds. I quickly darted to one side, taking a little detour to avoid being seen, though I doubted I would be. There was a small window in the side of the shed, almost completely covered in grime, but not quite enough to prevent me from seeing what was going on, once I’d sidled up to it along the side of the shed. I could easily identify the voice from the open door before I saw anything, “Oh yes! That feels so good!” It was Emily.

Peering in at the window, I saw the woman bent over, hands gripping the handles of the lawnmower Hodges laboriously shunted around once a week. Her skirt was up around her waist and her knickers pulled to one side. The man banging her from behind was indeed the gardener. It was like Lady Chatterley’s Lover, or it would have been if the gardener had been a handsome young stud instead of the old man.

Mind you, Emily seemed to go for old man’s cock. “Yes, yes, yes!” she cried. “Oh yes! Give it to me! Give it to me!”

I wish there was more to report, but all that happened was that Hodges kept on banging Emily until she urged him, “Oh yes! Fill me right up!”

As soon as the dirty old man had spunked inside her and pulled out, Emily snapped her knickers back into place, pulled her skirt down and turned around. “I think that will be all for today, Hodges,” she said. “You’ve performed magnificently.”

“Happy to oblige,” the man said. If he’d have had a cap, I’m sure he’d have doffed it.

I sped back to the house and went to my room. I was more intrigued by what I’d seen than shocked. Even at that age I had no illusions about fidelity and such. I knew that some people did, but I also already realised that theory is one thing and reality another, even for those who swear by monogamy, and I was amused that Emily seemed to get her kicks the way she did. Did Greg know? Who could tell? Did he have his own bit on the side? Maybe I should keep my eye on the pair a little more.

When I heard Greg’s car pull up at just gone six, I decided that I wanted to see them together. I don’t know why. Maybe I wanted to see how Emily would act around him, if she would betray any sign of her infidelity. Maybe I just had some kind of intuition. I gave it five minutes, then I emerged from my lair.

There was no sign of the couple. I checked the entire bottom floor. Nothing. I looked out of the windows to see if they were in the garden. Nothing. I had no business upstairs, but figured I could make up an excuse for wanting to talk to them. It was my habit, even then, to tread softly, and in any case the stairs were carpeted, so I didn’t make a sound.

Once I reached the top, I heard voices. I couldn’t make out what they were saying, but they were coming from the bedroom. I crept in that direction. The door was open, enough for there to be a crack between door and doorjamb through which I could peek without being seen.

I caught my breath. There, on a wooden chair, at what I knew to be the foot of the bed, though I couldn’t see the bed, was Greg. He was completely naked and erect, but what caused me the most surprise was that he was wearing Emily’s pink knickers over his face; the very knickers she’d been wearing when Hodges shagged her. Instinctively I understood, though I’d never seen anything like this before, that she’d been wearing them since then, and that the old man’s spunk must have seeped into them. And now Greg was wearing them over his face.

“Do you want my pussy?” Emily was teasing in a husky voice. She was invisible to me, probably on the bed.

Greg nodded.

“Do you want to fuck my cunt?” More assertive now.

“Please may I?” Greg begging.

“You know you’ll have to be really good to me for that to happen,” Emily said.

I wished I could see her, but I didn’t dare move. Besides, I couldn’t get into that kind of position without Greg seeing me.

“Please!” Greg whined.

Emily laughed. “Oh no! Just wearing those spunk-infused panties isn’t enough.”

“Please,” Greg said. “Tell me what you want me to do!”

Since this first time, I’ve seen all kinds of things, but this first time I was disgusted by it. I was disgusted by the thought of those knickers on Greg’s face, steeped in Hodges’ sperm. But more than anything I was disappointed. I’d regarded Greg as an equal, yet here he was, a pathetic figure with his wife’s soiled panties on his face, quite happy to let another man fuck her and to abase himself like this. I felt I would never be able to feel anything but contempt for him.

“You know what I want,” Emily was saying.

“You want so many things,” Greg complained.

“That’s no way to talk to the wife who’s being good enough to let you wear her freshly spunked knickers,” Emily admonished. “If that’s your attitude I may just have to fuck your arse!”

“And do I get to fuck you afterwards?”

“You want my cunt, do you, pretty boy?” Something in Emily’s voice made me wish I could see her. “Maybe I’ll let you have it, maybe not.”

“Please!”

There was a soft thud, then Emily said, “Get into position while I get my strap-on.”

I stole away as swiftly as I could. I assumed that Emily kept her strap-on in the bedroom, but I couldn’t be sure. Besides, whatever was about to happen, I wouldn’t be able to see, and Greg’s subservience repulsed me.

But Greg’s and Emily’s games also intrigued me. When I wasn’t hard at my studies, I spent a great deal of time preoccupied with thinking about them. I tried my hand, unsuccessfully, at a little more spying, but mostly I thought that there’s nowt queerer than folk. Masochism just isn’t in my nature, and the way Greg apparently allowed Emily to humiliate him was something I just couldn’t fathom. I was rather more impressed with Emily, who rose several notches in my estimation. She wasn’t really my type – not a lot to grab hold of, if you get my drift – but her attitude was certainly one I could identify with. Have your cake and eat it.

Maybe nothing would have happened had I not made a new discovery. I find that often in life events unfold as if they were meant to be, with very little intervention on our own part, and so it was now.

It was a Sunday, and I was at a bit of a loose end. Greg and Emily had gone out for the day. They said where, but I forgot it just as quickly. I had the house to myself, and roamed it, for something to do. I checked out the bookshelves, thinking there might be something I fancied reading, but was in that peculiar kind of mood where nothing took my fancy. I’ve never been that keen on films, but now I decided to check out the collection of videos, thinking I might idle away a couple of hours in front of the TV.

Again, nothing caught my fancy. But there was one tape that attracted my interest, purely because it was unidentified. Everything else was either a well-known film, or identifiable as being from Greg’s and Emily’s trip to Venice the previous year, or something like that. Being who I am, I couldn’t resist slipping the tape into the machine to find out what it was.

What I saw almost blew my head off. It would take too long to describe everything I witnessed on that tape. Suffice to say that it was all Emily. Well, all Emily and a sequence of men, none of whom were Greg, who was spectacularly absent – perhaps he was behind the camera, but if he was he kept quiet. I saw Emily being spitroasted, Emily enjoying a triple penetration, Emily sucking on a tree trunk of a black cock, Emily with spunk raining down on her from multiple cocks. I’d seen a bit of porn in my time, but none of it could rival this.

“Emily, you perverted little whore,” I murmured to myself, but in truth I rather admired her. I sat in Greg’s favourite armchair and wanked myself silly watching Emily being taken front, back and sideways; having cock shoved up all her holes, and gasping, “Cum all over me!” at regular intervals.

That completely changed my attitude to Emily. Any woman who could so shamelessly demonstrate that degree of abandon was very definitely my kind of woman.

I tried very hard not to let my changed attitude to both Greg and Emily show. The days passed, and while I interacted with them in the usual ways, I couldn’t help but check Emily out on the sly whenever the opportunity presented itself. Sometimes she had important people over, and as they discussed important things, I’d be looking at Emily’s lips, legs, tits, arse, and wondering what these people would say if they knew.

More importantly, I was trying to work out how I could enjoy Emily myself. It was obvious that Greg got off on his wife fucking other men, but I wasn’t sure how he’d feel about their 20 year-old lodger doing so. On the other hand, from what I’d seen, if Emily decided she wanted to, he’d acquiesce meekly enough. The trouble was that Emily never gave the slightest indication that she was interested in me.

It was a challenge. A challenge in the way other females, girls my own age, weren’t. They’d feign resistance, but really they were just as keen for a bit of fun as I was. And none of them were remotely as dirty as Emily was on that tape. I lost interest in every bit of skirt but Emily.

And then opportunity struck. I was in the kitchen one Wednesday morning fixing breakfast when Emily appeared. We said our good mornings, and then Emily began going on about how Hodges was ill, and how there were things in the garden that needed doing.

As far as I could see, there was nothing wrong with the garden that couldn’t wait a couple of days, but I understood instinctively that this was my chance. I looked Emily over, for the first time making sure she saw me doing it. Then I said, “If there’s anything that needs seeing to, I could always fill in for Hodges.”

I liked it that Emily was so cool. She didn’t ask how I knew or how much I knew, even though she plainly got my drift. As cool as a cucumber she replied, “I don’t see why not. Let me check with Greg first.”

That was interesting. Evidently I hadn’t quite understood the dynamic. Greg clearly wasn’t entirely the pussy-whipped wimp I’d had him pegged as. I waited nervously for Emily to return, which she did after about ten minutes. “Very well,” she said. “The flower borders need attention. Check for weeds and give them a good dowsing.” Like I was a servant or something. But then she gave me a look that sent shivers down my spine as the tip of her tongue moved slowly across her lips. “Don’t worry; the customary perks apply.”

It wasn’t very subtle, but Emily’s tone of voice didn’t exactly drip with seductive intent either.

I was no gardener, and I still can’t tell a weed from a herb. Hodges, though, kept the borders so neat there could be little doubt what little shoots didn’t belong. I pulled them up and put the hose on the borders. It took longer than I would have imagined, and I hoped it would be worth it. I had a raging hard-on most of the time, thinking of Emily, the promise of her.

I purposely kept out of the way when Greg arrived home at six. This was uncharted territory for me, and I thought it was best to let Emily indicate how she wanted this to go down, without complicating matters by talking to Greg, whose role I still didn’t quite understand. He could, of course, have come and had a word with me, and the fact that he didn’t spoke more than any words he could have uttered.

At eight I heard the sound of Emily’s car. I readied myself, thinking to give her ten minutes or so before looking her up. Instead there was a knock at my door, and there she was, in the clothes she’d been wearing all day; black nylons, black pencil skirt, white blouse, a jacket with shoulder pads to match her status. “Come in,” I called out.

She looked around the room briefly, before turning to me. “You understand that you must never utter a word to any living soul about what goes on in this house,” she said. Again, I was impressed with her, getting to the point like that. I was intensely aroused by her proximity, as I had been by thoughts of her all day.

“Of course,” I said. I meant it. There was nothing to be gained from going around blabbing about things.

“I don’t know how much you know,” Emily went on, “but you obviously have some idea of how Greg and I function.”

I gave a little smile. “Unconventional is good,” I said.

Emily looked at me as if appraising me, then nodded, coming within a whisker of a smile. “Good,” she said. She moved further into the room, and I took the opportunity to focus on her arse, thinking how I’d love to lift her skirt and get a feel of her thighs. She turned, catching me by surprise and catching the way I was looking at her. Her eyes lit up just enough to tell me she was very much in the mood to follow through.

“Here’s the deal,” she said. “Whatever else happens, Greg’s all mine. You do not, ever, under any circumstances say anything to humiliate him. If he happens to be present when something happens, you just pretend like he isn’t there. Do you understand?”

I didn’t quite, but it seemed easy enough to abide by this. “Whatever you say,” I said.

Emily nodded again, seeming pleased by my response, or perhaps my way of saying it. “As far as I’m concerned, as long as everything is kept within the house and garden, I’m game for anything at any time. And any time I’m in the mood for something, I expect you to be ready and willing. Do you understand?”

I nodded. I sort of understood, but I hardly dared imagine that Emily was saying what I thought she was. “So when one or other of us wants to initiate something, it’s alright if Greg’s there, as long as I pretend he isn’t?” I said.

“I’m glad we understand each other,” Emily said. There was a brief pause as I once again raked Emily over with my eyes, enjoying the sudden realisation that she’d just let me know I could have her as much as I liked. “Well,” she said at last, without so much as a smile. “Do I get to see the goods?”

None of the girls my own age I’d been with had been so forthright, and I liked it. I locked eyes with her as I undid my belt and let my shorts drop to the floor, maintaining eye contact as I pulled my underpants down. I’d been more or less hard all day, and wasn’t exactly slack now. As cool as she was, I fancied Emily liked what she saw.

“Now you show me yours,” I said, eager to prove myself her equal in these stakes.

There was a flicker of a smile. Then Emily hitched up her skirt. Her nylons were stockings, and in no time she’d pulled her knickers down. We stood facing each other with our newly exposed genitals. Then Emily began to turn. “I want you to fuck me on the kitchen table,” she said.

Well that was interesting. I was becoming ever more enamoured of her, having already seen something of her filthy predilections. If sex with her was going to be like this it would beat my usual conquests hands down. I followed her out of my room and through the scullery in just my t-shirt, no longer concerned that I would have liked a bit more flesh on her arse, just staring at her naked buttocks. The kitchen table was empty of stuff, making me wonder if Greg had prepared it.

There was, however, no time to wonder about much, as Emily hoisted herself onto the table, reclining propped up on her elbows. I lifted her legs, wrapping my arms round her thighs and dragging her towards me so that her buttocks rested at the edge of the table. She was at just the right height for me, and without further ado, I penetrated her.

People make such a fuss of love and sex belonging together. It’s rubbish. I’m sure for some people it’s the case, but mostly it’s rubbish. I felt nothing for Emily, not like that, but here she was on the kitchen table, legs spread, happy for me to fuck her, wanting me to fuck her. So why be precious about it? We were two people wanting to fuck, and fortunate enough to be able to fuck each other.

There was hardly any noise. We locked eyes again. Though there wasn’t much overt reaction from Emily, there was greed, need in her eyes. If I hadn’t considered her my type initially, her sex-hunger more than made her my type, and I took immense pleasure in thrusting my cock in her moist pussy as she laid there, half high-flying professional, half ravenous slut; half determined dominatrix (at least to her husband), half literal sex object – a body laid out for pleasure, a cunt for me to fuck.

So I fucked her. I fucked her hard, with all the pent up desire I’d experienced since first seeing her with Hodges, and then viewing those videos. Over and over I shoved my hard cock into her, striking the bottom of her fuck pit, my eyes locked on hers, seeing the depraved delight in them, even as she refused to give much away in terms of overt signs of enjoyment. I knew that I was no more than a piece of fuck meat to her either, but I didn’t care. It was the perfect arrangement; she wanted my cock, I wanted her cunt; we both wanted to fuck. How much better could it get.

Eventually, as cool as anything, Emily said, “I want you to cum inside me.” Still no overt signs of excitement, just that steely depravity in her eyes. I didn’t reply, other than to thrust my cock harder inside her, surprised to find that I did have a higher gear. Alright, I would cum in her, this woman, who was, after all, offering herself as a vessel.

I was determined to match her, and steeled myself so as not to give away too much of the delight I felt as my cock contracted and spurt after spurt of sperm was ejected into Emily’s moist vagina.

Now the woman allowed herself a little smile as she wriggled backwards on the table. I took a step back, a drop of slime falling from the tip of my cock to the floor.

“Greg, darling!” Emily shouted. “Can I see you in the kitchen for a moment?”

I retreated still further, but there was no way I was going anywhere. Emily hadn’t said Greg and I couldn’t be present together, just that I was to pretend he wasn’t there. Emily’s legs were still wide open, and I watched as my semen slid out of the woman and formed a small puddle on the table. Then Greg appeared in the doorway. “I want you to lick my pussy,” Emily told him.

In the event, Greg pretended that I wasn’t there as much as the other way round. He walked straight up to his wife and buried his face between her thighs. “That’s right!” Emily breathed. “Eat my newly fucked cunt! Be my cuntsucking little manservant!”

Greg got busy between his wife’s thighs, but she didn’t look at him, locking eyes with me instead as I stood there with my slimy cock poised between relaxation and renewed arousal. Even as I stood there, I realised that I wasn’t half as repulsed at seeing Greg lapping at Emily’s newly spunked cunt as I had been to see him with sperm-encrusted panties over his face. Maybe it was the knowledge that it was I who had shot my sperm into his wife, or maybe I was already getting used to the concept. At any rate I just stood there, revelling in the cool depravity in Emily’s eyes, watching as her chest heaved and her body arched. Now she let out a great, ear-piercing scream as her body shuddered. Then she was back to normal. “Good boy,” she said, swinging her body round and patting Greg on the head. “Now get this mess cleaned up. I’ve got work to do.”

As she left the room, she saw fit to give me what I can only describe as a co-conspiratorial wink. I followed her out, leaving Greg to his domestic duties, my eyes glued to Emily’s arse as she pulled her skirt down. She turned left and I turned right, returning to my room, finding the silky black knickers she’d left on the floor. I picked them up and hung them on a nail above the bed, as a kind of trophy.

Two days passed. Still not entirely sure of how much advantage I could take, I contented myself with undressing Emily with my eyes whenever I saw her. She and Greg, however, behaved with surprising normality towards me, much as they always had; Greg eliciting my views on this and that, Emily making passing comments and once asking how my studies were going. My studies were going very well, thank you. Frankly, I didn’t find them too taxing. There were others who seemed completely out of their element, but I never had any trouble grasping any of the finer points of my field of study. I did what I had to do, and spent the rest of my time thinking of Emily, thinking that I didn’t want to leave it too long before putting things to the test.

Because it was a test, of Emily’s and Greg’s willingness as much as my own boldness. I’ve always found it true that fortune favours the bold. At this early stage in my life, I was still learning just how bold it was possible to be, and this new situation was also a test of the extent to which audacity could pay off. I’ve subsequently found that, while some circumspection is necessary, in the right company, being open about my proclivities opens doors. The words, “In my spare time I like to fuck other men’s wives,” makes men start to think, even if they’ve never thought that way before. The trick is knowing what the right company is.

But I digress. Friday came around. Luckily it was one of those Friday evenings when Emily and Greg seemed content to relax, having nothing pressing that demanded urgent attention. They retired to the television room to watch something or other, and I gave it a little while before joining them.

I forget what was on. I feigned interest for a little while, but mainly I looked at them. They sat side by side on a two-seater sofa, but stared intently at the screen, not touching at all, like you would expect married couples to do. Occasionally they exchanged some remark, Greg even asking me something once or twice.

Eventually I transferred my attention exclusively to Emily. Greg had changed into casual clothes, but Emily was wearing the same kind of thing she always did; a blouse, navy blue this time, a black skirt and black nylons. I raked her over with my eyes, remembering the scene in my room, and then in the kitchen. I remembered the depraved look in her eyes as I fucked her.

I sat there with a full-blown erection, long since having got over the sense that she wasn’t my type. I wanted to own her, to get her to do anything I wanted. Not that I was fooling myself. Emily would never let anyone own her, but from what she’d said in my room, I imagined she didn’t mind occasionally pretending to be more submissive than she was. I was further enflamed by the fact that she didn’t pay me any attention at all, though she must have been aware of how I was looking at her.

Finally, I decided it was time to make my move. I stood up, taking the few steps necessary to stand two feet in front of her. I didn’t bother looking at Greg, though I knew he was looking at me.

“You’re blocking my view,” Emily said coolly.

I let my eyes slither all over her, as I calmly undid my belt and unzipped, pulling trousers and underpants down to half thigh and holding them while I used my other hand to grip my erection. Emily stared at me, almost managing to look amused. “Suck my cock!” I demanded.

Though there was no certainty that I would be successful, somehow deep down I knew that I would be. I was right. Without a flicker of emotion, Emily uncrossed her legs, placing them far enough apart for me to stand between them. She leaned forward and cupped my balls, giving a squeeze as if to remind me that though she was happy to comply, she would never allow any man to be the boss of her.

Her other hand took hold of my cock and I released my own grip, enjoying the way she opened her mouth and slid her lips over me without a word. She wriggled her tongue, causing an early emission of pre-cum. Deftly using tongue and lips to clean my head, she gave another little squeeze of my balls before plunging her lips down my shaft and wanking me briskly.

Out of the corner of my eye I could see Greg staring at his wife’s mouth and my hard cock. I did as Emily had instructed, paying him no attention, pretending he was air as his wife gripped my cock at the root and moved her lips up and down, making sure to slurp loudly before sliding her lips up and her tongue all over the bulb that now glistened with her saliva.

Another little squeeze of my balls came as she wanked my cock, staring up at me. Neither before nor since have I known a woman who could convey so much through expressionless eyes. She was pleased with me, though I should know that everything still happened on her terms. Her lips went back down over me, saliva swilling around, coating my rod. It sounded delicious, and my cock gave a little twitch, prompting Emily to go deeper.

I checked on Greg out of the corner of my eye, for the first time enjoying what I could make out of the masochistic delight of another man as he watched his wife go deep on my hard cock. Emily pulled off, wanking me briskly as she once again looked up at me. It was at that precise moment that I realised that no ordinary sex would ever satisfy again. Having my cock sucked by a woman while her husband looked on was so filthy, I couldn’t conceive how any ordinary sex could ever come close to this.

Emily’s lips engulfed me again. She sucked hard and deep and I felt my balls tighten. Emily’s mouth self-lubricated so massively it was almost like she had a second pussy. I wanted it to last forever, but knew it was going to be difficult to hold back. Restraint was a skill I had yet to develop fully. Not that Emily was bothered. Understanding how close I was to cumming, she slid her lips back up my shaft, holding just below the head. Then she wanked me hard, really hard, giving another squeeze of my balls for good measure.

I wanted to measure up to Emily’s coolness, feeling proud when I managed to ejaculate without a sound. But I delighted in the depravity she could convey in spite of hardly moving a facial muscle as my cum spurted into her mouth, her lips clenched hard round my cock as she milked every last drop out of me.

Then she turned to Greg, placing her hand on the back of his head and pulling him towards her. Their lips met, and I could see Emily shoving her tongue into her husband’s mouth. I still couldn’t understand how Greg could do that; kiss his wife’s cocksucking, sperm-filled mouth, but I enjoyed it. I felt a violent urge to humiliate the man, but Emily had made it clear that was her prerogative. Instead I did my trousers up and went back to my room without a word.

With this experience behind me, single girls my own age seemed as dull as ditch water. The whole situation with Emily and Greg was so unbelievably filthy that it was all I wanted. Besides, why waste time trying to get into girls’ knickers when I could have all the sex I wanted, with a much more experienced woman, who appeared to be game for anything?

So whereas I would ordinarily have gone out on a Saturday, I stayed in, waiting for my opportunity. As it happens, Emily and Greg were out and didn’t come home till late. That didn’t matter to me at all. I knew then as I know now that good things come to he who is prepared to wait patiently for them.

Opportunity knocked sooner than I expected. I slept late on the Sunday, emerging from my lair at close to eleven to fix some breakfast. Apparently, Emily and Greg had slept in too, because Greg was in the kitchen, pouring coffee into a mug, dressed only in his dressing-gown. “Ah, there you are!” he said. “I was about to give you a knock. Milady requests your presence.”

He said this as if it was the most natural thing in the world, in spite of the fact that it could only mean one thing. I forgot all about my own need for breakfast as my cock sprang to life in my boxers. If Greg saw, he gave no indication. Instead he put the coffee on a tray next to a plate of toast, and headed out of the kitchen.

I followed him upstairs to the bedroom. Entering, I immediately saw Emily, spread out on her back, completely naked, legs parted. It was the first time I’d seen her naked tits in the flesh. They weren’t big, but they were nice and pointy, and her nipples were big and swollen. Greg put the tray down next to her on the bed, and she immediately picked up a slice of toast and began munching.

“Greg, dear,” she said, with her mouth full, though this was clearly bad manners. “Do you want my pussy?”

Gosh! The woman was so filthy. If she wasn’t so obviously in need of a masochistic husband and already married, I might have proposed to her.

“You know I do, darling,” Greg replied.

“Do you want to fuck my pussy?” Emily said, pronouncing the f-word with evident relish.

“Yes, darling,” Greg said.

Emily snorted. “Too bad you’re a good for nothing pussy yourself,” she said. Then, staring straight at the protuberance in my boxers, “Just as well there’s a real man in the room.” She took another bite of toast, and as she munched on it, she said, “But you can warm me up, if you like.”

Judging by the state of her nipples, Emily had done a bit of warming up on her own. That didn’t stop Greg from immediately and obediently getting up on the bed and diving in between Emily’s thighs. The woman calmly munched on her toast, eating three slices as her husband licked her pussy. All the while she stared straight at me, as if gauging my reaction to events.

I was thrilled. My cock throbbed. I was going to get to fuck Emily in the marital bedroom. Besides, there was something deeply arousing about the way she laid there. I’d never known a woman to appear so unresponsive while receiving cunnilingus. She was one dirty, perverted fucker was Emily.

Once she’d finished her toast and taken a swig of coffee, it was time for something different. “Remove the tray!” she ordered, and Greg meekly got up from between her legs and placed the tray on a chair. Emily heaved herself up, ordering, “Now get on your back up here, dear!”

Greg did as he was told. Emily straddled him, reaching back to part her buttocks before lowering herself onto his face. “Smell my arsehole!” she commanded. “You like the smell of my arsehole, don’t you, dear?”

“Mmmmhmmmm.” Clearly Greg’s situation was not conducive to speaking.

“Do your duty!” Emily told him. “Lick it! Stick your tongue up my arse! Now!”

Coming in such a posh voice, this command sounded absolutely filthy. I couldn’t see what Greg was doing, since Emily was facing me, but with her staring at me with a filthy gleam in her eyes, I decided to strip out of my t-shirt and boxers, pointing my bulging erection at her.

“That’s good!” Emily said, though it wasn’t clear if she was referring to Greg’s tongue or my cock. Not at first. “Get your tongue further up my arse, you good for nothing pussy!”

Greg’s laboured breathing produced a sadistic glint in Emily’s eye, one which in turn caused me to stroke my cock gently as I looked on. She reached out to pull on the chord in Greg’s dressing-gown, pulling it apart to reveal his hard cock, immediately giving the erection a hard slap. “What a pathetic little dick you have!” she decided, though this was not strictly speaking true. Then, looking at my cock, “Just as well there’s a proper man cock in the room!”

She slapped Greg’s dick again, and at that moment I could have got up on the bed, pushed Emily over and ravaged her. Still, I understood only too well that this was not my show. Whatever Emily wanted was the order of the day. I watched as she pushed herself harder down on Greg’s face. “Get your tongue deeper inside!” she urged, and at the same time she cupped his balls, squeezing much harder than she had me the other night, causing Greg to whimper.

“Fucking pussy,” she sneered derisively, giving Greg’s erection a new hard slap. “Hardly a man at all. Perhaps I should make you wear my nightie all day, and fuck you up the arse whenever I feel like it!”

Now that, I thought, surprising myself, I wouldn’t mind seeing. Was there no end to this woman’s depravity? Now she shifted slightly, maintaining a position where her husband’s tongue was still attending to her anus, but which also enabled her to finger herself. There was moisture, plenty of moisture, in spite of the fact that she hardly gave any other signs of arousal. The sound of her juices echoed in my ears.

Then, abruptly, Emily rolled off Greg, ripping her fingers out of her pussy and sticking them up her husband’s nostrils. “Smell my pussy!” she ordered, sounding as nasty as I’d ever heard her. “Smell it!”

Greg’s mouth fell open as it was the only way he could breathe. Then Emily adjusted her body, gripping Greg’s cock with her free hand and bringing her mouth up close. “Would you like a nice blowjob, darling?” she asked.

“Ugh! Ugh!” Greg managed to get a fair bit of enthusiasm into the nonsense syllables.

“Too bad!” Emily shouted, giving his cock a good hard slap. “I’m hungry for a real cock, not your pathetic little chipolata!” The look she gave me at that moment told me what she wanted.

I climbed up on the bed. Emily was shifting her body again, her head just above her husband’s, still with two fingers up his nostrils, but now spreading her legs and shoving three fingers inside herself. For things to work, I had to grab hold of her head. Her lips parted as her malicious eyes turned on her husband. “Watch and learn!” she said. “Watch how a real man treats your wife!”

I took this as licence to sacrifice decorum on the altar of boundless lust. I thrust my cock between Emily’s lips and pulled her head down on me. She gagged immediately, forcing her head back and letting out a deliciously greedy, “Aaaaaaaaahhhhhh!” as saliva oozed out and dripped onto Greg’s face, where he still lay open-mouthed with Emily’s fingers up his nose. I pushed my cock back inside Emily, making sure I didn’t go too deep this time, so that I could give her face a good fucking without interruptions. Her head was so close to her husband’s that my balls grazed his cheek as I moved back and forth.

The amazing thing about Emily was that she was in complete control, even when she appeared to be submissive. Hard eyes stared at me, telling me exactly who was in control, and that if I didn’t measure up, she’d dump me like a ton of hot bricks. Just to let her know I had no qualms about anything, I gave a hard shove, making her gag again and drool all over Greg’s face. As I continued fucking her mouth with no concern for anyone’s comfort, Emily plugged herself with her three fingers, working them so hard and fast that the loud squishing caused the spunk in my balls to come dangerously close to the boil.

I gave a good hard thrust, forcing Emily off me to earn myself some relief. She coughed and spluttered, showering Greg with spittle. I was about to drive my cock back into her mouth when she pulled the fingers out of her pussy and spun round, wiping her juice soaked digits over Greg’s slimy cheek. “Do you want to fuck my pussy?” she asked.

There was no fooling anyone. The tone of her voice told both Greg and I that there was no way he was getting near her cunt. Greg nevertheless answered, “Ugh, ugh!” Then he began breathing heavily as his wife finally removed her fingers from his nostrils.

Emily allowed herself a harsh laugh. “Do you really think I’m going to let your pathetic cock anywhere near my pussy?” she cackled. Then she was up on all fours, the body part in question hovering above her husband’s face. She gave his cock a hard slap. “But I’ll let you watch my pussy get pounded by a real cock!” she said.

She didn’t have to look at me or say anything. I was already on my way. Greg stared wide-eyed at his wife’s pussy as my hard cock penetrated her. “Oh yeah!” Emily cried. “That’s what I call a real cock! Fuck me! Fuck me hard! Give me what my pathetic husband can’t!”

She slapped Greg’s cock again, and again, and again. I shoved my cock up her, moving as fast as I could, driving my cock into her with unrestrained violence. Her pussy responded by emitting loud, moist yelps. It was the wettest I’d ever known a woman to get. Somehow I managed to find extra strength, and as I banged her harder than I knew I could, pussy juice flowed back the other way, literally dripping out of her and onto Greg’s face.

Her husband kept his mouth open, looking as if he was trying to catch the morsels Emily was throwing him. The harder I drove my cock into her insatiable cunt, the harder she slapped Greg’s cock. “Oh yes!” she gasped. “Oh yes! Fuck me! Fuck me harder! Harder! Harder! Oh yes, my pathetic husband could never fuck me as hard as that!”

Then disaster struck. Well, disaster for Greg anyway. As Emily slapped his cock, he grunted out loud. I was sweating floods as I pounded Emily’s cunt, angling my head to see Greg’s cock twitch and seed begin to spurt out over his stomach. “You pathetic little man!” Emily cried. “Have you no self-control?” she went on slapping and slapping as Greg’s cock twitched and twitched. “It’s just as well I’ve got a real cock inside me!”

Truth be told, I wasn’t sure my own self-control would hold much longer. Fortunately, Emily had other ideas. She crawled forwards, my cock emerging from her, coated in her depraved secretions. She rolled over, then swung her legs off the bed, getting down on the floor on her knees. A hand went up between her thighs as she beckoned me with her eyes. Her mouth opened, letting me know what she wanted. Her pussy was squishing again as she plugged herself with her own fingers. I was there in a flash, holding my cock and guiding it to the promise of her open lips. “I want you to cum in my mouth,” Emily said; nothing less than an absolute command.

I wasn’t going to argue. Her lips came down on me and gripped my shaft just below the helmet. As she sat there frigging herself I began wanking my own cock. The angle was such that Greg had a good view, but I wasn’t that interested in him. All I wanted was to give Emily what she wanted, and satisfy my own lust at the same time. My balls were tight, my spunk nearing boiling point. Emily stared at me, urging me to give it to her. My cock stiffened, hardened, expanded. I wanted to bellow out loud, shout at her to take every last drop of my fucking cum, but somehow I knew that would be out of order. So instead I just gave a little grunt as my cock tied itself in knots, forcing out huge jets of sperm, one after the other. Emily’s eyes gave a rare smile as she sat there, fingering herself, waiting for every last drop to fill her eager mouth.

Then she pulled away, grabbing the mug of coffee Greg had brought up earlier and drooling all of my sperm into it. The deliciously perverted lady then carried the mug over to the bed. “Here!” she said, handing it to Greg. “Drink this, you pathetic little pussy!” A week ago my stomach might have churned at the sight of Greg draining the mug of lukewarm coffee laced with my semen, but now I felt that this kind of debauched kink was one I wanted to relive time and time again.

Hardly had Greg drained the liquid before Emily was on top of him. I stood there watching as Emily ground her pussy against Greg’s face, rubbing her clit hard until she finally climaxed. By now I was used to her not being very demonstrative in the sense of losing herself, but it was still pretty unnerving watching her body shake while she hardly gave any expression of overt arousal.

I stayed with Emily and Greg for a further two years. There were, needless to say, many more adventures. Emily’s perverted imagination seemed bottomless. Perhaps I’ll tell you more one day, for instance about the time she invited two other men over and had the three of us bang her in quick succession before she made Greg suck our sperm out of her cunt through a straw. On the other hand, I’m not sure you’d believe me.

At any rate, I’m sure you can appreciate how my experiences at Emily’s and Greg’s changed the nature of my desires. Over the years I’ve had occasion to discover just how many husbands are eager to see their wives fucked by another man (or men), and I’m glad of it. Glad too that so many wives are up for it. My only disappointment is that I’ve never quite met a lady as utterly dirty, depraved and perverted as Emily, but we can’t have it all, can we?

Still, I live in hope.