His Independence Day

His Independence Day

Chapter One

It was after dark on the 4th of July. I'd just gotten my two daughters to bed, and my wife was in one of her moods again. Once again, I was apparently good-for-nothing, and couldn't do anything right. Which really pissed me off because I work my ass off make ends meet. And unlike her, I don't bring my attitude home with me from work. And I certainly don't take it out on the girls. And since they're asleep now, I'm the only target my wife as left.

To avoid yet another fight—one which would risk waking the girls—I went out for a walk to clear my head.

I'd quite forgotten it was the Fourth of July until I got to the street to find it absolutely packed.

I made my way past the densely packed city streets, down toward the river, hoping for a little more peace and quiet. I didn't find it there, though the crowds at least were more dispersed.

There was also a sandbar and chairs set up by the beach. Some people were still playing volleyball by a few nets, still sporting short-shorts, speedos and bikinis, despite the fact it was now getting dark.

There were all kinds of people everywhere. It had been some years since I'd bothered wandering around after dark on the fourth of July—goes with the territory of "settling down" with a family, I suppose.

Come to think of it, I couldn't remember the last time I'd gone out for a drink with the guys. Come to think of it, I wasn't even sure what the old boys were up to these days. Had they all given in to the pressures of the middle-age biological clock and settled down with a woman who put a noose around his balls? Presumably, as I have?

I decided a drink or two wouldn't hurt. Why the hell not? I looked around at all the people here. I'd expected the throng of people here to all be teens and twenty-somethings, but to my surprise, they were of all ages.

I got into a lineup at the sandbar.

That's when a foxy redhead caught my eye.

Back in my day, maybe ten years ago or so, when I was in my mid-twenties, she's what I'd have called a cougar. She was a feisty-looking forty-something redhead who clearly still had it—still had that crazy sex appeal from her youth. She was wearing a slinky green summer dress, with hoop earrings and a flawless make-up job—looking as classy as a middle-aged woman could—but beneath it all, you could see she somehow never lost that lustful look in her eye.

And the cougar was looking my way.

When her sultry gaze met mine, she smiled.

I had a number of thoughts on how to react. I could look away. I really ought to. But she was so beguilingly beautiful. And she gave me such an easy smile. All at once, I was aware of this stark contrast between this 'cougar' and my wife. As different as night and day.

The redhead made her way towards me.

I looked away.

Shit, Alan. What are you doing? You're married!

Then she was in front of me.

"Hey, handsome."

Now, the thing about cougars—and really, I feel odd still calling her that, given that I'm on the wrong end of my thirties myself—they don't wait to be noticed. Oh, it's still easy enough to notice them. Especially when she's this hot. She may have been in her forties, but she had curves that demanded attention, in the green summer dress which clung effortlessly to her body.

"Happy fourth of July," she said.

"Likewise," I said.

"Want to dance?" she asked.

"I'm um…"

I held up my ring finger to show her my wedding ring.

"I see," she said, a sympathetic smile on her face.

She looked back at the crowd, then back at me with a smile so inviting I'd swear I could have just grabbed her and kissed her. Her body screamed availability, and yet my inner-voice screamed: No, Alan. Don't do it!

"So…where's your wife then?"

"She's at home," I admitted.

"I see," she said, her smile broadening. "Well it's just a dance."

I wanted to. Oh god, I really wanted to.

Fuck, she's so hot!

"I can't," I said. "I'm sorry."

"Okay," she said with a nod. "Suit yourself."

The cute redhead backed away and danced her way back into the crowd.

I cursed myself for it. I mean, really…what's the harm in a dance, right?

I faced away and concentrated on the back of the man's head in front of me. I felt like an asshole, pretending the back of this man's head—nice as his hair may have been—was more interesting than the feisty little redhead dancing up a storm in the throng of people. And I could just feel her eyes still on me. I wasn't sure.

I looked her way.

She smiled back, dancing in an alluring way.

I looked away again.

Shit!

I looked back.

It was like she was dancing at me, if you can imagine that as being possible. But she maintained eye contact with me, and kept up that sexy, inviting smile.

Christ, this woman can dance, too!

It was like her moves had moves. And she knew it. I'd never seen anything quite so shamelessly beautiful. If you can imagine that as being a thing. She gyrated and threw her hands up in the air, and then behind her. Everything about her body was screaming at me to go over there. Put my hands on her. Touch her all over.

Her gaze never left mine. I just couldn't bring myself to look away anymore. Even though I knew I shouldn't engage this hot little vixen. She was dangerous. And I was married. But she had such a congenial look on her face that I couldn't look away anymore. Not without feeling like an asshole who was missing out on life.

I gave up my place in the queue and joined her on the dance floor—which was patches of grass and sand by the beachside—and though I'm not much of a dancer myself, she didn't seem to mind.

"So glad you decided to join me," she said.

"Well…the back of that guy's head was pretty interesting, but…I think I made the right choice," I said.

"So glad you did," she said with an easy smile. "I'm Carol."

"Alan," I said.

She turned as we danced, and now I was getting an alluring view of her backside, as her shapely caboose bounced to the rhythm of the music.

She turned her head back to me and bit her lip. She noticed my eyes weren't on hers, but lower. I'd been caught. And this seemed to delight her.

"Loosen up," she said. "You seem so tense!"

"Sorry," I said. "I haven't danced in awhile. And I was never very good."

"Oh, nonsense," she said. "Here."

She took my hands, and placed them on the curves of her hot little waist. Then she put her arms around me, locking her fingers behind my neck.

We danced for a while, and though I hadn't even had a drink yet, it was like I was already getting a little tipsy off her. She appeared to be quite literally intoxicating.

I kept telling myself it was okay to feel this way. We were just dancing, that's all. But I wanted her. I wanted her in a way I don't want my wife anymore. In a way I've probably never wanted my wife to begin with.

How did this happen? I wondered. How had ten years passed with a woman I felt almost nothing for anymore? The answer was simple. My girls. I was staying for the girls. I love those girls more than I love anything. Certainly more than I love my own freedom.

Don't get me wrong; I love my wife too. She's the mother of my children, and I'd do anything for my family. But Carol here…she was making me feel a weird kind of connection. Even though I didn't know much more than her name, and the fact that she was a hot little redhead and one hell of a dancer. We had a connection.

Maybe it was all just an illusion. One fueled by alcohol—on her part, mostly. Like I said, I hadn't even had a drink yet. Maybe, through beer-goggles of her own, I reminded her of someone she once fancied.

We danced a little longer, and then she took me by the hand back to the sand bar.

"You really do need to loosen up," she reiterated.

Then Carol bought me a drink.

"First one's on me," she said. "You're getting the next round though."

"Clever," I said. "Locking me into a two-drink-deal right off the bat."

"You have to be very clever when you do what I do."

"Let me guess," I said. "Marketing. Or…sales. You sell things."

"Close," she replied. "I'm a lawyer. Family law."

"Ah. Yes, that was my next guess."

"Uh-huh," she replied with a bemused look of incredulity.

"Scouts honor. Right after marketing and saleswoman, I swear."

"A likely story. Let me guess. Carpenter?"

"Yeah, pretty much," I said. "How could you tell?"

"The rough texture on your hands. Plus, you're built like one," she said, looking me up and down. "Not a bad way to be built."

With the looks she was giving me, I'd say she must have thought I was just as hot as I thought she was. This wasn't a good combination. Not for a married man like myself.

We tried to keep the banter polite and simple at first. Well, I tried to. But every time there was a lull in the conversation, she'd give me this knowing smile.

I kept wanting to shout 'no! I won't cheat on my wife!' But because she hadn't been explicit about that, it seemed a bit presumptuous.

Besides, I couldn't shake the fact that I really did want her.

Chapter Two

Carol and I got to know one another a little better. I found out she practiced family law. She'd also once been married, though she wasn't anymore. I told her about my two daughters, and she told me about her three adult sons—one of whom had a child of his own now—making this apparent M.I.L.F. I'd met a G.M.I.L.F.

What I mean by that is a grandmother I'd like to f—

An argument broke out suddenly just a little down the bar from us. A couple of really hot young women in bikini tops and daisy dukes were in a heated argument with three men in tuxedos.

"What, you think you're too good for me, bitch? Do you know what I do for a living? I trade futures on my couch. I made twenty grand last month without leaving my house!"

This sent the two bikini-glad girls into a bout of laughter.

I turned to Carol, who was rolling her eyes at the douchebag's comment, and I burst into laughter. His comment was just too stupid.

But then, apparently infuriated by their scorn, he made another stupid comment. This one was just plain mean. And racist. It was a word I refuse to repeat here.

Did I mention one of the two girls was black? It was a black girl and a blonde, both in daisy duke shorts and bikini tops. The blonde's bikini top was a simple USA flag color combo, while the black girl's bikini top was plain pink.

Both of them were stunning as fuck—just, absolutely gorgeous—and I got the big tuxedo man's frustration in being shut down by these girls. But this ass-bag had just called the black girl a 'small-titted n…small-titted nig…' ugh…nope! Still can't even say that filthy word.

"Hey!" I found myself shouting. "You can't call her that! What century do you think this is? These ladies obviously aren't interested, asshole! And they have every right not to be without being subject to the worst behavior our Trump-loving nation has to offer! Why don't you just show the smallest shred of decency and apologize to these women for trying to pressure them when they clearly want nothing to do with you! Especially to her, for that shitty, shitty thing you just said, and then to everyone else on this beach for making us all hear it. And…"

I looked over, seeing a woman in a wedding dress, looking mortified. She was a pretty, young, Asian woman in a big, flowing, white wedding dress. I was stunned for a moment by how sad and embarrassed she looked. The tuxedo guys must be with the wedding party, I realized.

"And apologize to your friend over there whose wedding you're apparently ruining, while you're at it. This is supposed to be her day, not yours! And then maybe go home and apologize to your own mom. Because I bet she regrets ever having given birth to such a racist, dickish, fucking asshole!"

The big racist guy in front turned red. He was fuming. He looked like he wanted to take a swing at me.

Weirdly, I wanted him to try. I'm no slouch, and I do physical labor for a living, and I'm not about to take shit from some future-trading, twenty-something jack-ass in a tux. Especially not in front of Carol.

That was important, at the time, by the way. I didn't understand it at the time. I don't understand it now. Because really, I have two girls at home, and I'm thirty-seven. What would my girls think if I came home with a black eye, or bruised knuckles, or cracked ribs? All because I got in a fight trying to impress a girl. A girl who may well have been fifty, by the way. And I bet she would most certainly not have thought less of me for just keeping my mouth shut. But apparently, I just couldn't.

"You…fucking…" said the big tuxedo thug.

He took a step towards me, and I was ready to deck him right there.

I was pretty sure I could 'win' that fight. But my hands would be bruised from the punch. And he was pretty big…

Fortunately, his two friends were actually nowhere near as stupid as he was. They seemed embarrassed about the way he'd talked to the girls. They each took an arm.

"Come on, man. It's not worth it," one said.

"Whoa," said the asshole, staggering. "Don't touch me…I'm…I'm all right. Don't touch me."

Then he staggered off, away from the sandbar, with the two men in tow. He was clearly quite drunk. Had I gotten into a fight with him, not only would I probably have injured my hand, but I'd have just looked like an asshole, beating on a drunk guy who could already barely walk.

Strangely, I was getting a round of applause now, which was embarrassing.

"So gallant," said Carol. "Tell you what, stud. Next drinks are also on me after all."

"No, no…" I said. "You're going to get me drunk I said."

"Oh, you've caught onto my plan, have you?" she said.

She gave me a smile, which pretty much convinced me I wanted her to get me drunk too. Even though I knew it was a bad idea.

"Hey," said the black girl. "Thanks."

I turned to see her, along with the blonde, now both right next to us. Up close, the two girls in their daisy dukes and bikini tops looked even more irresistible. I could see why they'd drive a man mad with desire. I think they were already having that effect on me, come to think of it. Or was that the alcohol?

"It was nothing," I said. "I've got two daughters at home. I'd have done the same for them. I hate that some men talk to women like that. Or, you know, the whole N-word thing. It shouldn't be like that. Most of us aren't like that, you know?"

"Yeah, I know," said the black girl.

"Still," said the blonde. "Can we buy you a drink?"

"I'm sorry; you girls want to buy me a drink?"

"Yeah."

I looked back at Carol, who didn't seem to have a problem with it.

"Sure why not?" I said.

"Bartender?" called the blonde. "Oh, what are you drinking?"

I told her, and then the two girls went to talk to the bartender and got some drinks for themselves and me—I guessed the fourth might be for Carol.

My eyes wandered to their cute little butts, and the way their backs arched as they leaned in and spoke to the bartender. They were clearly a pretty flirty pair.

I'm staring. I really shouldn't be staring.

I looked back at Carol, who'd noticed.

"It's okay," she said with a knowing smile. "It's okay to look. Who doesn't look? We certainly do, I don't see why men shouldn't be allowed to."

"You do, huh?"

"Of course! I'm looking at you, aren't I?"

"I'm married," I said.

She smiled again, bemused. "The best ones always are. So it goes. I hope she knows how to take care of you."

I didn't know how to respond, so I looked at the ground. The truth is, my relationship with my wife isn't so great anymore. And I'm beginning to wonder if it ever was.

"Hmm," she said, seeming to notice my look. "Then where's your wife? If I were her, I'd want to be out with you celebrating. If I were her, I wouldn't ever want to let you out of my sight."

"She's um…she's not feeling well tonight."

"A likely story. If that were true, gallant guy like you, you'd be doting on her, hand and foot."

The worst part was, she was probably right. Lately, just about everything has been about either the girls or my wife. I haven't found much time for myself. Too busy working. And then when I get home, it's like my wife has an itinerary for the whole evening. I can't remember the last time we did something spontaneous.

The daisy dukes girls came back with their drinks.

They each handed me a drink. Both drinks were for me apparently.

I tried to hand one to Carol, but she just shook her head.

"No, you earned those yourself, cowboy."

"Okay," I said and just plunked them both down in front of me, having a third drink still to finish, which Carol had already bought me.

"Would you girls like to join us?" asked Carol.

I went wide-eyed. But Carol just gave me a broad smile.

The two younger girls both looked at me and then smiled.

"Sure!" said the blonde.

They each pulled up a seat and the four of us sat and chatted awhile.

Their names were Polly and Hannah, though—to be honest, to this day—I don't remember which was the blonde, and which was the black girl. All I remember is they were both still in college, studying…something. Again, the conversation gets hazy here.

We chatted awhile. As the night progressed, I really did start feeling tipsy. That's when it became clear to me—and to Carol, and to the dames in the daisy dukes—that they all had the hots for me. They were all making bedroom eyes at me. Like they thought I was some kind of action hero. They were even making comments to that effect.

"Come on, ladies," I remember saying at some point. "I'm just this guy. Just this married guy trying to do right by his wife and two daughters."

It was shortly after that that the groomsmen were up to more of their drunken antics.

The big jerk had thankfully left already. Or he was passed out drunk somewhere. But now, it seemed the groom himself was passed out drunk, right beside his mortified bride.

Some of the groomsmen took to trying to wake the guy up. But he was so trashed. He was out cold. His poor newlywed wife looked deeply and thoroughly humiliated. Even her bridesmaids were laughing. She just looked like she didn't want to be there anymore.

In fact, I think she was actually crying.

"Sumi?" said Carol, squinting at the bride.

"You know her?"

"Well, yeah. She's one of my clients. Whoops!" she said, covering her mouth. "Not supposed to tell you that. Confidentiality and all that. Ah well, whatever; it's not a big deal. Her parents were being jerks and trying to block an inheritance her grandmother left her. Jerks."

"I didn't ask," I said. "I really don't want you getting in trouble for this. I probably won't even remember this conversation later, anyway."

That was a lie, as I imagine you've gathered by now.

Carol went over to 'Sumi' and put an arm around her.

"We love how in tune you still are with your wife," said the blonde.

"Your wife is so hot," added the black girl. "'Course, so are you."

"Oh," I said. "Uh…First of all…thanks? But, we're not actually married. I mean, I'm married. But that's not my wife."

"Oh…okay…" said the blonde. "That makes more sense."

"But you wish she was, right?" said the other.

Hells yeah, I do! I realized. But I couldn't actually say that. Could I?

Of course, looking at these two girls, I realized I didn't have to. They already knew.

"Or maybe you wish we were you wives," said the blonde.

The black girl giggled, and the two of them sipped their drinks, treating their straws like phallic objects. They both exchanged a mischievous look and giggled, bobbing their heads up and down on their straws.

These women are going to give me a fucking erection!

I didn't know what to say. Luckily, Carol came back with the newlywed bride, so I didn't have to.

"Sumi, I'd like you to meet my friends. Polly, Hannah, and this handsome gentleman over here is Alan."

Sumi curtsied in a way that harkened back to another time. I couldn't tell whether it was a Japanese thing, or what. I gathered she was Japanese because of the name.

Sumi sat with us.

Carol got us another round of drinks, despite my protests that it should really, finally be my turn to treat the girls. But they just wouldn't have it. Also, I'd hoped to come back with drinks for them but water for myself, so I had a chance in hell of sobering up a little before having to head home. No such luck.

Chapter Three

As the night got later, and we all got tipsier, the girls' conversations got into increasingly lewder territory. It got to the point where they were just comparing blowjob stories.

Were they doing it to keep me interested? Because that wasn't hard. Or rather it was hard—or rather I was getting very hard, as these three beautiful women compared blowjob stories in front of me, complete with mouth and hand gestures, delighting in watching me squirm.

I also got the sense they were trying to cheer up Sumi.

By this point, we'd established that Sumi was marrying the passed-out drunken Japanese guy after being pressured by her parents. It's not that she didn't like him, she explained. But she got the impression there were people he'd rather be with than her.

Boy did I ever know that feeling, I remember thinking. But I didn't say that of course.

I'm not exactly an encouraging example right now, am I?

"What about you, Sumi? What's your most embarrassing blowjob story?"

She turned a bit red. I could sympathize. I gathered she was about as sexually adventurous as I was these days. Which is to say: not at all.

Though my cock is screaming at me right now that there's four hot women right here!

"Come on," urged the blonde. "We've just gone and thoroughly embarrassed ourselves. It's your turn."

"I…don't…I don’t do things like that," said Sumi

"Why not? It's fun. Guys love it. Right, Alan?" said Carol.

"Huh?" I said.

She broke into laughter.

"Acting like he wasn't listening. You're not fooling anyone, you know."

"It was supposed to be my first time," said Sumi.

"I'm sorry, what?" asked the black girl. "Your first time? Are you actually still a virgin?"

"Well, no. Not like my first-first time. But I wanted to give Robert a blowjob tonight. His first. I've been practicing."

"Ooo, practicing on whom?" asked the blonde.

"What? No one! On…on a banana…" she said trailing off. "But what's the point? He doesn't love me. He never will."

She began to sob quietly to herself.

I wasn't sure what to say.

I looked at Carol.

Carol made a face uncharacteristic of a woman her age. It was almost childish. She looked like a miffed, disappointed nine-year-old. And I should know; I've got one at home who makes that face all the time.

"Well this is just no fun at all," said Carol. "This is supposed to be the happiest night of your life and look at him over there. Laying there like a corpse. Hey!" Carol shouted suddenly, back at the men in tuxes tending to the unconscious groom. "Just throw the corpse in the fucking river already!"

The guys in the tuxedos in the distance laughed.

The daisy dukes girls laughed at this too.

So did I, actually.

Carol turned back to me.

"This little ray of sunshine should be the happiest girl in the city tonight. And you, sir—you should have a nice trophy wife who's willing to do anything for you."

She took another swig of her beer. I think she was pretty drunk now.

"God. Look at this stud, ladies. Look at him! If you were married to this, do you think you'd let him out alone on the fourth of July, with a bunch of hot chicks in skimpy outfits about?"

"Of course not," said one of them. "But I'm glad she did."

Then she winked at me, and I had to look away.

She just laughed.

These girls were taking me way out of my comfort zone now. Way out.

I should have politely thanked them for the free beer and kind compliments and left them to their drunken antics. That's what a sensible man would have done.

Right?

A sensible man with a troubled marriage and two daughters at home. Daughters who, in another decade or so, may find themselves at a similar celebration with a similar creepy middle-aged guy leering at them. Fantasizing about them.

I'll have to remember to ban my girls from wearing bikinis until they're thirty.

"I've got an idea," Carol announced, standing up. "Everyone…get up. Come on. Get up. You too, stud. No, no, finish your drinks, then follow me. Come on! Drink up! Yes, Sumi, you too. You're coming with us."

I wasn't sure what she was up to, but with one exchange of a glance with her, I could tell it would be fun. Whatever it was. I decided I trusted Carol enough at this point. Even though I was thoroughly convinced she had a plan to corrupt me before the night was through.

Chapter Four

Carol led us to a relatively secluded wooded area.

"Okay," said Carol. "Who wants to play a game?"

"What kind of game?" I asked.

"The best kind of game. Something to cheer up Sumi over here. Are you in?"

"I…I guess so," I said.

She exchanged a conspiratorial giggle with the daisy duke babes.

"Okay, follow me. Do like I do."

She raised her arms.

The bikini babes raised their arms.

The bride raised her arms.

I raised my arms.

Then, quick as a snake, Carol grabbed the base of my T-shirt and yanked upwards, pulling it over my head.

Suddenly, I was shirtless!

"Hey!" I said.

She giggled like a schoolgirl and ran away with it.

"Oh my, you are hot," she said.

I felt suddenly really embarrassed. I mean, all things considered, I was still wearing more than the bikini-top girls, but not by much.

"Isn't he, girls?"

The daisy dukes & bikini babes eyed me with dancing eyes. One of them bit her lip.

Even the bride seemed to be ogling me now, though not with the same unashamed rowdiness. Instead, she seemed to laugh shyly into her hand.

"See? Look! Sumi's happier already."

"Give me that back," I demanded, though not without a silly grin on my face I'm sure.

"Ah-ah-ah!" said Carol. "But we're having fun, aren't we, girls?"

"Yeah," said the blonde.

"You've got a stripper bod, dude," said the black girl.

"Pff, no…" I said, probably turning red from a combination of the flattery and the drinks.

"Give us a show, stripper man," said the blonde.

So…bah, what the hell. I was drunk. I gave them a show.

"This what you want, ladies?" I said, flexing my muscles.

"Ooo," said the redheaded cougar.

"Mmm, yummy," said the blonde.

"Take it all off," said the black.

"Okay, that's enough. Give me my shirt back."

"No way!" said Carol. "It's summer!"

"It's night," I said.

"Would you feel better if one of the girls took her top off?"

"Uh…" I said uncomfortably.

Even the mention made my dick spring to life.

"I found my eyes involuntarily traveling to the hot black girl's tits."

"Take it off," Carol said.

The black girl exchanged a quick glance with the blonde. The blonde nodded and then untied the bikini top for her.

I found myself staring at the hottest pair of ebony tits I've ever seen.

That jerk really had it all wrong when he called her small-titted. She was perhaps a B, which isn't big, bit it's not small either. And I just wanted to grab them and kiss them.

No, Alan! Stop! You have a wife at home! And these women are only about ten years older than your daughters!

"Here," said Carol. "Trade ya?"

She tossed my shirt to the blonde, who in turn tossed the string bikini top to Carol.

"Come here, stud," said Carol with a mischievous smile on her face.

"What are you planning?"

"Don't you trust me?"

I rolled my eyes and walked to her.

"Turn around," she said.

"Why?"

"It's part of the game. Just turn around."

Reluctantly, I did as she asked.

"Hands behind your back."

"Are you going to tie me up?" I asked.

"Maybe," she said. "Okay, yes. Is that a problem?"

"I don't know," I said. "Should I be concerned?"

"No one's going to hurt you. We all like you."

I looked at the other girls. Then I believed I probably shouldn't have. I half-wondered if I was about to get robbed. Not that there was much in my wallet worth stealing—maybe a hundred bucks.

They all seemed so excited by me and my shirtless muscular body, though.

So fuck it.

I put my hands behind my back and let Carol tie my hands with the black girl's pink bikini top.

Once she finished, she started tracing her fingers along the muscles on my chest and stomach.

"Mmm," she said. "You are sooo yummy, Alan."

Suddenly, seeing the lusty looking in Carol's eyes, letting her tie me like this was maybe a bad idea.

No, it was most definitely a terrible idea!

I struggled a bit to get out, but my hands were tied behind my back pretty tightly.

"Can we touch?" asked the blonde.

"Hmm, I don't know…" said Carol. "How do you feel about a bunch of pretty girls playing with you, Alan?"

"I think it's a terrible idea," I said.

She laughed. Obviously my tone betrayed me.

"Then why are your hips moving?" she asked.

Because I want to fuck all four of you women really badly!

Most of all Carol, whose touch was driving me crazy. But I couldn't admit that.

"And that bulge on the front of your pants is getting pretty big."

"Maybe it's time to take those pants off," said the blonde, joining in and feeling me up.

Then I felt the black girl's hands on me too.

I looked back into Carol's eyes. They were positively glowing, like she'd just been given a Christmas present.

"Mmm," said the bare-breasted black babe. "You're hard all over, aren't you?"

"Um…yeah…" I stammered.

"So now that we've got him all tied-up, what should we do with him?"

"Hmm, well, we've already been talking about it all night. Why don't you ladies put your money where your mouth is?"

"What do you mean?" asked the blonde.

"Blow job contest!" exclaimed Carol.

"Wait, what?" I said.

"Mmm, I like the sound of that."

"Help me get those pants off."

"Wait," I said. "I…I can't you, um…you girls are all really nice, and I'd really like to, but…"

"Come on, Alan," said Carol. "You've been making me chase you all night. You had lots of chances to get away from me, yet you didn't."

"I know, but…"

"And your body clearly wants it. And we definitely want it. Don't we girls?"

"Uh-huh!"

"Please…don't…don't do this."

"Alan, we're not sexual predators. If you really want us to let you go, just say the word. I'll untie you, you can have your shirt back, and go home to your…"

Carol burst into laughter. Then she cleared her throat.

"Your wife," she said finally, trying to contain herself. "Or you could stay out here a little longer with four beautiful women who appreciate you. Your call."

I looked at the black and blonde babes, who giggled. I looked over at the adorable little Asian girl, still in her wedding dress, smiling shyly at me. I looked at Carol, who was just…to-die-for gorgeous. And so much fun.

"Well…When you put it that way…" I said.

"That's what I thought," she said. "Tell you what. How about we let you keep your pants on for now. Is that acceptable?"

"Okay," I said.

"But we've got to at least get his cock out," said the black girl.

"Duh! Obviously!" said the blonde.

The girls unzipped my fly before I could say anything. I wanted to protest. But I also didn't, because…good…god! Did my cock ever need to be free!

They took out my cock, and my balls too, trapping them outside, through the front hole of my pants.

My cock sprang to attention immediately.

"Oh my," said Carol. "So big!"

"Is it really that big?" I said.

Carol gave me an incredulous look.

"Are you serious?" she said.

"Well I don't know!" I said.

"Your cock is so beautiful, Alan," said the blonde. "I kind of want to taste it."

"Mmm, me too," said the black girl with the hot tits.

Oh, I'm so fucked! I thought to myself. My wife is going to rip my balls off when she finds out about this.

"But you girls are, like, half my age."

"I'm not," said Carol.

I certainly couldn't argue with that. From the crow's feet of her eyes and the years of wisdom she seemed to carry with her—plus the fact I know she's been lawyering for years—I'd place her easily in her forties. Possibly even fifty. Albeit a very hot fifty.

No! Alan, you can't think like that!

"And anyway, so what?" said the black girl. "We're twenty-one. I'm pretty sure that's legal everywhere. And you do think we're hot, don't you?"

"Oh…don't get me started," I said.

"See?"

"But…I'm married."

"And where's your wife, Alan?" asked Carol.

"I um…She's…"

"Don't tell me she's sick again, Alan. None of us will believe that."

I looked around at the four girls. They were all eyeing me like a piece of meat. And I liked it! But…no! I couldn't let on.

Carol smiled.

"Maybe you'd like me to start," she said. "Would you like me to start, Alan?"

Her voice was low and sultry.

"Start what?" I asked.

She stepped up to me, her face inches from mine.

I thought she was going to kiss me. I wanted her to.

She leaned past me, and whispered in my ear.

"Start sucking you cock?"

No, Alan! No, no, no!

"Yes," I said.

"Mmm…good boy," she said.

She got to her knees, carefully pulling up her summer dress—so as not to stain it, I presumed.

She took my cock shaft in one hand, and my balls gently with the other. She licked at the head of it at first.

I let out a gasp. This seemed to excite all of the girls.

Then she took the head of my cock into her mouth.

Any doubts I had about my wife were gone now. I just didn't care. This—having my cock in Carol's mouth—was pure heaven. I'd never received a blow job quite like it. I'd been in her mouth mere seconds, and already, she was working the head, the shaft, and my balls, like she'd known how to get all of my circuits going for years.

I wanted to touch her pretty face and hair, but that bikini top bound my hands tightly behind me. I wasn't getting out. And somehow, that drove me closer to the edge. She had total control over all my pleasure.

"Mmm," Carol purred. "Sumi, you're really going to love this. Alan, your cock isn't just big, and it isn't just beautiful. It's delicious!"

"Oh my god…" I panted.

The girls giggled.

"Whoa, slow down there, champ," said the blonde in the America bikini. "You need to give all of us at least one turn, right?"

What a foxy blonde, I thought. I want her sexy mouth next.

"Wait, what's the prize?" asked the black babe.

I just want to come all over her hot naked tits!

"Hmm," said the mature redhead, as she teased my cock with her tongue.

I just want to come all over her freckly face!

"Winner gets to ride him like a stallion."

"Sounds good to me," said the black chick.

"What do you think, stud?" asked Carol, taking my cock back into her mouth.

"Fuck…fine! Oh god…"

"Give me a turn, Carol! You're going to make him come if you don't stop."

"Hmm," she said, slipping off me. "I think you're right."

Carol got up and the blonde got to her knees, and started nuzzling with my cock with her cheeks.

"Shh, calm down," she said.

She bit her lip and looked up at me. She kept nuzzling.

"I want to take my time with it. I want to worship it."

"I have no problem with that," I said.

She laughed and licked it awhile.

Her strategy was a little different than Carol's. Whereas she'd been almost over-stimulating every part of it, driving me just about mad with expert precision, the blonde was giving me only just enough oral pleasure to keep me satiated. It was nice and slow. Sensual. I could handle this and not come too soon.

This went on for a while, and then the black girl got a turn.

The black girl was feisty and fast. She sped everything up. Honestly, a little too fast if you ask me.

That's a funny thought, I realized. What am I, a blow job snob?

Don't get me wrong; it certainly felt amazing! But it was so fast I almost couldn't enjoy it—not the way she meant anyway—because I was sure she was trying to make me come.

Then she started deep-throating me. That was hot. She did this until I was on the brink of orgasm, and I just wanted to spray my white cum over her cute black face and hot naked tits.

"What about you, Sumi?" Carol said. "You up for a turn?"

"I…I don't know," she said.

"Come on, Sumi," said Carol. "You ought to practice on more than just bananas. You've got a real man here. And he's a total stud, too. And he wants you. Don't you, Alan?"

"Oh, god, yes," I said.

My tone was affected by the fact I was still receiving head from the topless black chick.

"Okay," said Sumi.

Sumi switched places with my black fellatrix, muddying up her pristine white wedding dress on the ground on her knees.

I looked down and admired Sumi.

Sumi was such a pretty, dainty little Japanese thing. And her blowjob technique was still different from the other three. It really was amazing just how different these four women were when it came to sucking cock.

Sumi seemed to put her whole body into it, closing her eyes and seeming to enter some kind of zen-like emotional zone. A tear escaped from her eyes, and then she opened them again, looking up at me. She didn't stroke with her hands the way Carol had, but rather, she just kept both hands still on it, as if to hold me still, while her head bobbed up and down on my glans.

She was not the amateur I was expecting. She wasn't kidding before, when she said she'd been practicing. She clearly had been practicing!

Finally, she pulled back and smiled.

"Thank you, Alan," she said.

"You're thanking me?" I said.

"Yeah. I always wanted to do that. Especially with a big handsome man like you."

What's with all the shameless compliments tonight? I love these girls! All of them!

"Something tells me you won't have a lot of trouble convincing a guy to let you do that again."

"Thank you," she said.

Sumi got back to her feet, and took a few steps back.

Chapter Five

I was so damn horny now, with my cock still out, and still wet from the mouths of these four foxy fellatrixes. I was shirtless, with a raging hard-on, and being ogled. And I liked it! My hands were still tied behind me, which was probably for the best—because I would probably otherwise have grabbed the nearest girl and impatiently fucked her silly.

"Now," said Carol, "be honest. Who gave the best blow job?"

I looked at all four of them.

They all looked back in excited anticipation.

"You're all so good," I said. "I don't know how to pick a favorite."

Carol cocked her head back.

"Look at you, still being all gallant. Trying to make us all feel special."

"Let's put it this way, Alan," said the blonde. "Whose mouth do you want to come inside?"

"Or would you rather come on our tits?" said the topless one.

"But you have to choose," added the blonde.

"Uh-uh," said Carol. "I think regardless of who wins, the prize should still go to the bride. I think she needs it the most, don't you?"

The other two girls giggled and nodded in agreement.

Sumi looked away, embarrassed, but I could see the smile she was unable to conceal.

"Alan, what do you think? Sound fair?"

"Yeah," I said. "I'd like that, Sumi. If that's what you want."

"Sumi?" said Carol.

Sumi's eyes were full of tears now. I wondered if maybe she was feeling guilty. The way I knew I should. But she nodded.

"Yes please," she said. "God, that would make my night. I want to fuck this stud. You're just so handsome."

"I feel the same way about you," I said. "Um…so pretty, I mean."

"Aw…how sweet!" said Carol. "But first. Who won?"

I looked at the four women. The young blonde with the sensual mouth and maddening beauty, the young black girl with hot tits and apparently bottomless throat, the mature redhead with the expertise and congeniality of a top class escort, and the sweet, innocent newlywed Asian. All so talented. All so pretty. There was only one way to answer.

"I can't decide. Maybe we need to have a second round," I said.

This resulted in raucous laughter and cheering. And then, of course, there was a second round—a second round of amazing blow jobs.

Carol gave me another expert blow job, paying perfect attention to my balls, and my shaft, all while her mouth brought my glans to the brink of ecstasy. There was no doubt about it in my mind; Carol was the best. And I think, from the gaze we exchanged, we were communicating that back and fourth. She smiled at me. She knew she was doing it. It was so incredibly hard not to come in her mouth!

I think there was a part of her that could even tell I was straining with difficulty not to. After all, we both wanted to save my cock for the bride.

She slowed down, and then stopped, giving the blonde a turn.

The blonde eased me into her mouth.

I took a few breaths, finally sure I'd be able to just plateau and stay hard without getting too close without effort.

I was wrong. It wasn't so easy this time. Of the four girls, the blonde was definitely the prettiest. I was perhaps more attracted to Carol, and Carol knew how to use her curves. But the blonde was just an adorable, petite little fuck-doll. And her blowjob felt like a French-kiss from an infatuated high-school girlfriend.

Then it was the black girl's turn. She once again got me going, deep-throating me, and generally being aggressive in the most exciting way. Of all the girls, she had the nicest tits. Or so I thought, anyway. The other three women's tits had remained covered, but their outfits allowed me to imagine how they would all look. The black girl's tits were flawless. And from the look I got from her, she knew that's what I thought. This seemed to make her laugh. She appreciated it, and my god, did I ever appreciate her hot, perfectly round, bouncy, little tits.

Then finally, it came to the bride. Sumi. Of the four, she had the most delicate features, and the softest touch with her hands. She was still shy, even on her knees. Even though she knew I thought she was gorgeous, and could tell I was having a good time, she was still shy. Her technique wasn't necessarily the best, but the fact that she gave it her all put something into it that I didn't get from the other girls. She put so much effort into it! It was so hot I wanted to shoot my load.

"Sumi?" I whispered.

"Yes, Alan," she said.

"If you want that reward, you should probably stop before you make me come."

"Okay," she said with a smile.

She stopped sucking. "How do you want me?

I was a lot taller, so standing wasn't going to work.

"Maybe you can sit?"

"Okay," I said.

I sat, holding my torso upright with my bound hands.

"Here, let me help," said Carol.

Carol got to her knees, behind me, and began sensually massaging me. That was nice—not just in a sexual way, just in a general relaxing way.

The bride lowered herself carefully onto my cock. I felt her pussy touch the tip of my cock.

Oh god, we're not using a condom?

I wanted to say something, but somehow, I was just mesmerized by all this. I didn't care.

I felt her tight pussy pushing down onto my glans. She was tight—evidently her pussy was smaller than I was used to. Or maybe she was tensing up from inexperience. But, god was she ever wet! So sliding onto me wasn't an issue.

She cried out in a cute little Japanese schoolgirl squeak.

It was beautiful. She was beautiful.

"Us too!" said the blonde.

The daisy duke damsels got on either side of me and took turns sensually French-kissing my mouth.

This went on for some time. I could feel Carol's hot breath behind me while she continued to massage me.

"Touch me," she whispered into my ear.

I was only too happy to oblige. My bound hands were so close to her crotch already, it wouldn't take much to reach her.

She helped guide my hands under her dress to touch her.

Her pussy was so wet! She'd obviously gotten really worked up by what we'd been doing too!

This persisted for a while, me kissing the daisy dukes damsels while the bride fucked me to her own rhythm. I tried to divide my eye contact time between the three of girls in front of me, smiling at each in turn.

All the while, the pleasure in my cock slowly built to a crescendo.

And all the while, I could tell I was getting Carol close to climaxing as well, with the use of my fingers. It was almost like the sex act with Carol was a secret. Somehow separate from the others. I'm not sure the other girls realized what my fingers were doing back there. But it wasn't just my fingers. Carol's fingers were doing things to me too. If I didn't already know she was a divorce lawyer, I'd think she was a professional masseuse. I think half the pleasure was coming from the massage itself. She was that good!

The bride bobbed up and down more furiously. I could see she was losing herself now to the pleasure. The dames in daisy dukes took turns kissing my lips. All the while, Carol sensually massaged my shoulders while my bound hands covertly fingered with her clitoris.

The bride came hard on top of me.

From behind, I could hear Carol panting, in the throes of an orgasm of her own.

The two bikini-clad beauties continued kissing me.

I felt like a king.

I mean, sure, I was tied-up and being used. But I felt like a king nonetheless. I'd never have thought my body could bring this many women this much pleasure. Not all at once.

It was all too much for me.

"Oh god I'm going to come," I said.

"Good," said the bride, riding me, uncharacteristically like a porn star now. "Come inside me, you sexy stud!"

Sumi rode me like a wild stallion.

That was it for me. I came hard. I came hard like a fucking champion.

I thrashed and moaned, and I spurted a geyser of cum up into the bride's gyrating pussy.

"Oh…ooo…" Sumi moaned. Then she laughed. "I've never felt anything like that before. Oh god that's just so…that's just so hot…oh god!"

Sumi gasped. Then she started crying out loudly once again.

I think she was coming again!

She continued to ride me like a stallion until we were both spent. Then she slowed, and with the help of the girls, who kept on sweetly kissing me, we all came down slowly together.

Finally, Sumi got off me, and the girls helped me up.

Carol untied my hands, and then tossed the black girl back her bikini top.

I put my cock away, picked up my shirt and pulled it back on.

I'd had fun, but now that I'd come, I could finally think clearly again.

Suddenly, a lot of my old concerns and shame came back.

Shit! What have I done? God, my…my dick is covered in another woman's pussy juice. The front of my pants are soaked! How am I going to explain any of this to my wife?

"Thank you so much for that," said Sumi. "Both of you."

"Our pleasure," said Carol, before I could say anything.

"Maybe I can call you sometime…if something…develops."

Sumi rubbed her belly suggestively and I went wide-eyed.

I just realized the full extent to which I'd quite literally just fucked myself.

Okay, no. I guess I literally fucked her, and figuratively I fucked myself.

But there could be a literal baby developing in there. And it would be mine.

Oh god, it would also be half-white. How would she explain that to her Japanese husband?

"Here, write on this," said Carol, handing Sumi a business card.

Sumi wrote on the back of the card. Presumably her phone number.

When she finished, the daisy dukes duo took the pen.

"Maybe we can call on you sometime too," said the blonde.

She jotted down another number, and then handed the card back to me.

I didn't take it. I just stared.

Consequences. There are going to be consequences for all this!

Carol took the business card back.

"Thanks, ladies," she said. "We'll have to keep in touch."

They giggled and waved goodbye and the two girls in the bikinis and daisy dukes caught up to the bride, and started chatting and giggling with her as she made her way back to the bigger crowd.

"Oh god," I said.

"What?" said Carol, trying to soothe me with a hand on my face.

"My wife's going to kill me."

"Not if she doesn't find out."

I evaluated the front of my pants, which were soaked with sex. My pants—and my fingers for that matter—now reeked of pussy. I couldn't go home like this.

"I literally reek of pussy, Carol. When I get home, my wife will smell it, and she'll probably kick me right in the balls. And then she'll probably demand a divorce."

"Here," said Carol. "Take my card. If you ever need a good lawyer, give me a call. I'll take care of you."

Yeah, right. Like I'd ever want Miss 'Whoops, that was supposed to be confidential' as a lawyer!

"But I can't get divorced! What about my kids?"

"Oh…Alan," she said soothingly. "Listen. I'm divorced. And I've got three boys of my own. And they're fine."

I wasn't so sure about that…

"Listen. You're a truly nice guy and I hate the way you're beating yourself up right now. I hate the way you think of your marriage as some kind of duty you owe your wife and kids. You don't owe them anything. Well…you don't owe them that. It took me decades to realize that. But now? Uh-uh. Not anymore. That's enough. I do what I want with whom I want. And you, Alan. You're hot. You're a wild stallion. You should be free."

She adjusted her dress, making sure she looked all right. I suppose she didn't want to look like she'd just had a tumble in the bushes.

Or who knows? Perhaps she did…

Then Carol took her leave.

I stood there, and felt nothing but shame.

She turned halfway back toward the crowd.

"I'm serious, Alan. Give me a call sometime. Even if you don't need a lawyer. I mean it; I'll take care of you."

She winked, then turned around again and walked away.

As I stared after her fantastic, feminine posterior, I sighed. Part of me just wanted to say 'screw the family for now,' and just chase after Carol. How nice it would be just to go home with her for the night. I could deal with the consequences in the morning. But I knew I just couldn't. I'd already gone too far as it was.

I pocketed Carol's card, along with the numbers of the other girls. Then I headed home. Carol had given me a lot to think about.

On the way home, all I could think was: I really hope the wife is already in bed when I get home. Because otherwise, she's going to give me a lot to think about…and also, probably really bruised balls. If she lets me keep my balls at all.

But who knows? I was still really tipsy by that point. For all I knew, maybe it had all just been some fantastic dream, and maybe I was about to wake up…

 

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