Table for Four

I’ll Have the Fish

The Continuing Diaries of Wanda Casey

Life’s too short not to have everything you want — at least within reason. Taking advantage of any potentially fruitful opportunity is just good sense, and part of living life to the fullest.

It had been a wonderful evening catching up with Megan and Jack. I didn’t even know John was such a good cook until after I just went and married the guy. Not that I didn’t know him well and that our road to coming together wasn’t a long and difficult one, but, as I was discovering daily, he had more than just raw sexual talent as when I first met him. He was devout. A real man. What and who I had been looking for in the dust of Arizona and Nevada. Here we sat, extremely comfortable in L.A., dinner guests, baby Marcus safely sleeping.

There will be absolutely no fucking I told myself all night long. That was the only thing that was making me uncomfortable, and even a few glasses of wine couldn’t keep it from surfacing. I mused that ‘normal’ people didn’t think about not fucking their dinner guests, but for me, it was a significant issue. I had, after all, fucked everyone at the table either separately, in the case of Megan and her husband, together. I wanted to say — or maybe assume, that John knew our history, that I had told him about it at some point. Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t. But regardless, it wasn’t going to matter, because no one was getting laid tonight, not while our guests were there at least. Why was it so fucking hard to keep my legs closed and behave? I had to at least come clean with John; while I couldn’t and probably shouldn’t share every detail of my life before we were married, I felt like I owed him as much honesty as possible.

“Let’s clear this up,” I said to my husband, looking at the mess on our round wooden dining room table. “You can help me while our guests relax.”

“OK, dear,” John said, partly out of habit, and partly because that’s the way he was. I still couldn’t get over how much he really loved me, even after all we had been through. I thought about how I brawled with his ex-wife on Connie’s lawn. What the fuck.

Carrying as much as we could, we each passed through the saloon doors that led into the kitchen. That was an old-fashioned touch I just loved about this house, creating semi-privacy.

“John, sweetheart,” I said. “I want to tell you something…about our guests.”

“Yes, what is it dear?” he asked.

“Well, you remember the debacle at Connie’s house? I asked. “The one where your wife…”

“EX-wife,” he interrupted.

“Yes, EX-wife,” I continued with a smile. I was so glad of that. “Anyway, your EX-wife and I got into a fight, and all of that pregnancy stuff with Eddie…”

“Yes,” he groaned. “I remember.”

“Well,” I continued, “what you might not have known was that I had sex with Megan’s husband… multiple times.”

“OH,” he said. He was kind of a jealous guy, but I found it so enthralling, someone jealous of me. He knew that it was OK to express it. Yes, I should have told him before.

“And there’s more,” I said.

“More?” he asked.

“I had sex with her too, separately and with Jack and another guy I worked with.”

“OK,” he said, exhaling deeply but quickly regaining composure. That poor man. “Thanks for telling me. I could see the way that they were looking at you all night and I couldn’t figure out what it was. Now I know.”

“I don’t want it to spoil our evening,” I said.

“Why should it?” he said. Indeed. Why should it? “But thanks again for telling me.” Thanks. He just thanked me for being a total slut.

John was the most faithful and loving man I had ever known, so it surprised me when he said, “Your friend is very attractive.”

“Jack? Yes, he is.” I was teasing of course.

“No, silly! Although I admit he’s a good-looking guy, she is fucking hot. Not as hot as you, my love, but for a skinny brunette with pale skin…”

“Who you’d split in two in a heartbeat,” I continued.

We both just stared at each other.

“So, you want to fuck her?” I asked.

“No… I mean I would never,” he protested.

“You know, we used to be pretty wild. She was particularly. Loved to go to gangbangs. Her husband caught her once. The last I heard she was ‘cured’ and ‘faithful.’” I knew that I had been infected with the heat so to speak and let’s just say it was a very unlikely road to becoming his — or any man’s wife. Girls like me just don’t…

I could see the disappointment in his face, however. I didn’t want him to be disappointed. I was a master at broaching the subject and getting what I wanted. My mind went into overdrive and my heart raced. How could I get my hubby what he wanted?

We sat back down and rejoined out guests, getting drunker and drunker. Or at least Meg was. I mean she was shitfaced. It looked good on her though. I don’t know whether it was a telepathic signal I sent her or whether she just couldn’t stand the staring anymore, but she, just like a fish, spread her arms out across the table, sending the remnants of our dinner dishes, silverware and yes, even wine glasses tumbling down. Megan swam toward the edge where my husband and I sat, dumbfounded but thoroughly amused. Fuck it, this girl was fun to be around I thought.

Her legs bent upwards, she tossed a dirty look backward at her husband, who intuitively knew what to do. Grabbing her by her ankles he slid his hands down her stocking-covered calves and pressing hard on the back of her knees (which caused her to gasp in pain) then up her thighs and finding her panties, yanked them back and off her beautiful ass. He pressed really hard with his thumbs into her upper thighs, causing her to tense and scream in agony. Damn, I thought, he’s got her wrapped. Jack then flipped up her skirt, so we could get a good look at her. She managed to grab a glass of wine that still remained on the table and tossed back a swig, half of it dripping out of her mouth like blood.

Jack undid his belt and dropped his pants. Was he really going to fuck his wife right on our dining room table?

“Spread this fish out,” he grunted.

John and I each grabbed one of her wrists and pulled them to 10 and 2, like the face of a clock. That would have made Jack at her six. Ripping her black nylons right off her and slipping her lace panties aside, he penetrated his wife’s pussy from behind with his thick cock. I had almost forgotten it, how it made me squirt every time he fucked me. Seeing it again was like fondly remembering an old friend, but it also made me uncomfortable, even a little nauseous. That’s how I get when I have to have something, but I can’t.

I looked at the bulge in my husband’s pants, which let me know he was really into it. Both he and I encouraged Jack, telling him to fuck her, fuck her hard.

And he did, murdering her ass with his pelvic thrusts, pulling her long black hair taught like a rope. She writhed and came so hard I swore I heard a rib or two crack, and shortly thereafter Jack filled his love’s cunt with his silky seed.

“You’re next in line, buddy,” he said to my husband, who let go of her wrist and shuffled over to Jack’s position. Jack took up John’s duty of grabbing her wrist, keeping “this fish spread out.”

My hubby had no trouble sticking his big dick into Megan’s pussy, and she welcomed him with a tasty mmmm, although she looked back in shock, as if the sensation of a new man inside her was something she had forgotten. Looking at me for approval, I smiled back at her. She seemed grateful for my willingness to share.

“Fuck me you fucking stud,” she said to John, looking back at him. My stud. She knew.

Much the same as John, he grabbed the fish by the hair and rode her hard, sending her to heaven. The heaven of being manhandled like some coy bitch. Served her right if she got beaten up a little.

I was so fucking wet I was dripping down my thighs. I resisted the urge to get involved; this was for the men, for Megan. I had to prove I could keep my clothes on, my shit together. I was like a crazed junkie — everyone else was getting high but me.

With a grunt I knew all too well, my man filled her with his juicy load, collapsing on her back and nearly crushing her.

“Get off me you beast,” she laughed. Laughed. Can you believe her?

“I’m sorry Megan,” he sighed.

She flopped over onto her back and then sat up with her knees bent.

“Pretty good, pretty good,” she said, motioning over for more wine. I gave her a glass.

“Pretty good?” her husband asked.

“Yeah, for what it was,” she replied.

“I’ll show you pretty good,” Jack said, returning to the spot where she was just fucked. Double loads of come were oozing out of her onto the table. She looked down mockingly, saying “Oops.”

He kissed her deeply, then spread her thighs apart. He was hard again. Ready again. Fuck this was too much.

After minutes of slamming his cock to the balls against her reddening labia, he spilled his butter all over her pussy, slapping it on her clit sending it spattering everywhere.

“Excuse me,” John said, doing as Jack had just done, pinning her legs back behind her head and fucking her gorgeous cunt until he also spewed his creamy load all over her mound. I loved the way he followed her husband’s lead. It made sense: do as I do.

I nearly fainted it was so hot. I busied myself, trying to clean up the mess. The guys were stunned at Megan’s prowess.

“Don’t get used to that,” I said.

“Your wife is fantastic,” John said to Jack. “I know you know all about mine. Consider it an invitation.”

“Excuse me?” I said. “Trying to pimp me out?”

“I’ll take you up on that offer when you visit us in Phoenix,” Jack said.

“Sounds good,” John said, like they were conducting a business deal.

Fuck me, I’m going to have to wait until we visit them to have Jack’s cock again? OK don’t be greedy I thought.

What I saw next, I couldn’t believe. Megan was working diligently at getting the boys hard again, and having succeeded, dropped to her knees, trading suck after suck on their cocks.

“You boys must be sore,” she panted in between long sucks.

John came first this time, filling our guest’s mouth with his batter. How he even had any left I couldn’t understand. She stuck out her tongue, showing me my husband inside her mouth. She sucked it back in, swallowing it.

“Come on, hubby, give it to me,” she sighed.

Jack jerked his cock frantically until a small but nevertheless thick stream of come shot against her chin and cheek, eventually dropping to the floor.

“FUCK!” he yelled, shaking it loose on her face. “What a good wife you are!”

“I know I am,” she said with a shit-eating grin. “I wish I had more come, though.”

That bitch. Fish. She was showing off just to tease me.

“Lay her down,” I said.

The guys spread her out on the floor. John grabbed her arms and pulled while Jack grabbed her legs.

I straddled her face, kissing my husband, and flipping up my skirt, dug into my soaked panties, twirling my clit between my index and middle fingers, until a sloppy stream of girl come shot down on her face. I continued to rub, sending more of my cunt spill all over her.

“Show you, you slippery fish,” I said.

When I finally came enough on her face I regained my feet and walked over to the table and continued to clean.

“Take her in the shower and clean her up,” I ordered.

She didn’t say a word. I was always the Alpha when it came to Megan. In fact, she could barely look at me as the men each helped her down the hallway. She staggered and fell once, her body finally realizing the beating it just took.

“Clean that bitch up,” I said out of earshot.