My first foursome
There was no doubt about it! I was nervous; me actually nervous about a night away with my own husband! I knew why. It was because I was anticipating something exciting and new happening. We were on our way to London, the car was hot, probably from the heat I was feeling between my legs. I'd worn a skirt, because he told me to and I nearly always did as I was told. He was watching me with amusement as I was shifting up my skirt in an effort to get more air to myself. I smiled weakly, pretending not to notice that his cock was bulging out through the material of his jeans. "I wonder whether they'll share our sense of humour? Americans can be a bit weird can't they?", I asked him; talking about the American couple we were meeting for dinner that evening. "You don't have a sense of humour", he said and I retaliated by pinching his thigh. He returned the gesture in a way he knew would make me squirm; by twisting my nipple through my thin white top. Deciding that I wanted to leave him in his horny state, I hid my growing excitement and decided to read my book. It was a cheap trashy woman’s book, but I figured it would pass the time! The first chapter was about a couple of teachers getting hot together in the gym room after school hours and, when I got to the bit about "her long nails tormenting the sensitive flesh of his anus”, I felt a rush of juices soak the delicate fabric of my knickers. Oh well so much for distracting myself. I put the book away and turned my attention to the growing need between my legs. I suggested to Mark that we stop for a drink somewhere to cool us down, but, lets face it, I never had any intention of cooling down. Things were about to get very hot. We stopped not long after, at the services. I suggested that we park further away from the other cars and climbed on to his lap with my legs spread around him. Before he had a chance to speak, I guided his hand to my pussy and he groaned when he realised I was sopping wet. My need was urgent, so I quickly freed his now rock hard cock from his clothes and slid full force onto him. Then I rose up, so his cock was almost withdrawn completely, and plunged down, widening my legs, this time, to stretch myself open and accommodate more of him. I rubbed my now desperate clitoris as I rode him hard, fast and selfishly. I lost myself in my gasps of desperation and his groans. When he pulled my hair back and sank his teeth with no ferociousness, only hunger, into my neck, I orgasmed noisily, which, in turn, sent him into a climax of hot intensity. We arrived at the hotel in good time and, after I’d showered, I chose to wear some new crisp white matching underwear. It seemed a little odd to be putting on white underneath a black dress, but white made my skin looked tanned and the idea of appearing virginal and innocent was quite a turn on, even if unlikely. When I finished the look with some sexy black knee high boots, hidden beneath my dress, I felt like a contradiction, but as sexy as hell, all the same. Mark was impressed with how delicious I looked and demonstrated this by forcing me face first onto the king size bed. Pulling up my dress, he groaned at the sight of my white knickers, then yanked them down so they hung on the top of my boots at my knees. He spread my legs wide and, with a roughness that took my breath away, he forced some fingers inside me, which made me cry out in surprise and feigned submission. Then, holding me down with one hand, by the back of my neck, he spanked my bottom hard, then harder and harder, each time groaning. He asked me if I wanted more and, although I was already sore, I couldn’t help but beg him in a desperate voice to spank me until I cried. When I could no longer take anymore, I changed my position, so that he would know I’d had enough without me actually having to tell him, then I climbed from the bed and dropped to my knees in front of him. Looking up at him with a hunger in my eyes, I licked my lips and he undid his trousers, releasing his huge throbbing cock, which already glistened with juices at it’s tip. Starting with my tongue, I licked the tip and then took him deep into my throat with hungry eager moans, spreading his ass cheeks with both hands. Then, using as much force as he’d previously used on me, I thrust a finger into his ass, enjoying the noise, which indicated a combination of discomfort and pleasure. I sucked him hard and fast, until he began to rock himself. When my jaw started to ache and my efforts subsided, he grabbed my head and forced his cock into my throat, causing me to gag. Holding my head tightly in place with my hair, he fucked my mouth and thrust hard, until coming violently and plentiful. We were almost late, so I didn’t have long to compose myself and, glancing in the mirror before we left, I could see written all over my face that we’d been up to something. I just hoped that it wasn’t going to be so obvious to everyone else. We only had to go down to the hotel restaurant and neither of us were sure what to expect from the couple we were meeting, only that they were Dan and Rosalind - an American couple. Dan was mad about American football, which was how we came to be meeting him. Mark had been discussing their favourite sport online and they offered to take us out for a meal, when they came to England. I suppose I imagined that they’d be large, what with the whole stereotypical American image, plus him being an American football fan. I hoped that I wouldn’t find their accents irritating. I once met an American minister called Randy, whose voice had annoyed the hell out of me. We’d agreed to meet at the bar and, when we saw the stunning tanned couple at bar, I didn’t think it was likely to be them. Then they recognised us from a picture we’d emailed them. At first, I was surprisingly shy, which wasn’t like me at all - and it was only a meal we were sharing. If we didn’t get on well, it wouldn’t matter, would it! We did get on, though. The conversation flowed well and, although I was worried that the evening would consist of constant boring chat about the NFL, it wasn’t like that. I was included in a wide variety of conversations, which were growing more daring as the alcohol and the evening went on. They liked our English accents – well, mine anyway, because it has a posh edge to it. I found this amusing, considering how I’d been worried earlier about their accents. As the evening continued, we talked about the differences between the English and the Americans and which were truth or myth. Apparently, English women are filthier, or less prudish in bed, shall we say (with the exclusion of his Rosalind of course!).