Sharing Clare

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By Bawdy Bloke

I knew what she needed and wanted from her chosen life partner before we got together. She knew what I needed and wanted from mine. We talked openly, explicitly and non-judgementally. It was the benefit of being Internet pen-pals before friends, the advantage of being friends before lovers.

Not that we did too much as lovers, at least initially. I wasn’t what she wanted in the bedroom, she needed something that I simply could not give her. And it wasn’t that I was too “small” down there to have enjoyable sex, although I was certainly well below average: some sites put me in the smallest ten percent of men. It wasn’t that I lacked the stamina for sex, or the confidence, and I did find her so amazingly sexy and attractive, but I was quick to orgasm.

Very quick, and embarrassingly so.

I wanted so hard not to be. I tried a number of techniques over the years but, both my partners and I, were left unfulfilled until I met her. Until I met “lancsnympho” on the Internet. We talked, every night. I didn’t expect anything to come from it: I was the last person a nymphomaniac would look for sexual satisfaction. But when my job transferred to Manchester, we met.

And within three weeks we were dating.

What I needed was 69; I could pleasure my partner with a flick of my tongue in a way I couldn’t with my cock. My smaller size was perfect for a blowjob: the few inches fit nicely inside my lady’s mouth without troubling her gag reflex and I adored the warm moistness sliding over my glans.

But Clare needed proper sex: lots of it. I think all women do deep-down and I was used to my partners cheating on me; my confidence of having a faithful lover had long since disappeared. I expected to be lied to, I anticipated the “we need a chat” moment before I even started dating someone. Clare had the opposite problem; she always felt guilty for cheating when her partners were not able to satisfy her. For us both, to enter a relationship on the promise that one would be sharing their partner with other men and woman was a new experience for us both.

It scared me, but what did I have to lose? A lifetime of being single.

The communication between us was fantastic; the sex was even better. It had to be.

The first experience we wanted to “do” together. She arranged a friend from work to visit after his appointment at the gym. I was nervous, she sated me with a massage. I trusted her, she trusted me.

He arrived a few minutes early, his body smelling of the chlorine from the swimming pool. Clare kissed him as I watched; my heart fluttered, my dick rose. She winked at me as his hands gripped her waist, her T-Shirt riding over her head in seconds, exposing her pert bosom to his admiring eyes.

My arousal rose; my body tingled as I watched. His fingers delved into the waistband of her skirt, fleeting around her shaved mound as her flimsy cotton pooled onto the floor.

There was no sugar-coated pretence; he was here to fuck my girlfriend. No niceties or chat. Nothing but raw, passionate foreplay. She licked her lips as she felt the bulge in his jeans, ignoring me as her crotch moistened with the thought. I knew it had been months since she had been fucked properly by a properly endowed man, and her lust was driving her decisions, writhing on the spot as she fumbled with the catch on his trousers.

We were in her double bed a few moments later. He wanted me licking her clit as his seven-inch cock parted her wet pussy lips. She groaned into my lap as my tongue flicked her button; my eyes watching as his erect dick slid into her.

His balls rubbed over my face: I had no choice but to inhale his chemical scent as he began to slowly fuck my girlfriend. Deep strokes, smooth thrusts that filled my Clare and made her groan, pant and whimper.

The slap of their skin was exhilarating, the copious moistness flowing down my cheek as he thrust deep into her was a fantastic feeling. Her desperate ache and itch grew as his cock plowed her pussy and my tongue twirled against her clit. I’d never had any woman writhe so much as I pleasured them and her passionate lust sucked my cock with rampant zeal.

I felt my body twitch as hers shook and quivered. Her legs trembled against my ears as her fingers tightened against my thighs and I exploded into an overwhelming release of intense relief that spasmed my cum into her panting mouth.

She sucked on my glans as I squirted, mewing into my spent prick as her partner rammed harder and harder into her; his prick glowing with their juices as he pounded her hole.

With a shattering cry, her body shook as her partner fucked her into a desperate climax. She screamed lustfully as he continued: the guy had stamina. He just continued pounding her cunt as I watched in envious admiration and flicked my tongue against her clit. His balls dragged along my face, his pre-cum spilt into my mouth and his chemical aroma filled my nostrils, but I didn’t care: he was bringing Clare to the pleasure she deserved.

After another orgasm for Clare, he came too, filling my lover with his copious deposits. It was hot, I was horny again and I longed for another blowjob from my lover but she was sated.

We talked lots about that night; my initial feelings of envy and jealously were swiftly satisfied as I watched her orgasm. I wanted more, so did she.

It came a few weeks later by chance. We were out celebrating her birthday and two guys hit on her while I was getting the drinks. She never stopped them, allowing them to fumble at her dress and paw at her clothing. She kissed one as I returned from the bar, my lady openly feeling the other man’s crotch.

The two men glanced at each other as I sat down opposite her, passing my girlfriend a drink. “We play openly,” she explained in the club.

An hour later, she explained about my size in the confines of our bedroom; she stripped me naked and made me blush as the two men pulled their bulging briefs to show large, firm dicks that were double my size.

“Sit in the corner,” she demanded. “And don’t touch yourself! The grown ups are going to play!” They sniggered, laughing at my feeble compliance. I watched the two men fumble on the bed, sliding their hands drunkenly over my desperate girlfriend.

They unwrapped her, eagerly tearing at her lingerie to reveal her delights. They threw her red knickers to me: brazenly boasting about their success and she groaned when she felt their dicks. “Now which one of you is bigger,” she asked, flirting. Some of it was an act, some of it was pure Clare savouring a role-playing game that we all relished.

My cock was painfully erect as they kissed; squirming as the condoms were unfurled and I was on the edge of orgasm when the first man parted her lips and drove his impressive erection deep into her squirming cunt. She cried with every deep thrust into her pussy.

“It feels so big,” she yelled, for his benefit and mine. “So very big!”

I could imagine the sensations he was experiencing: her pussy so hot, so moist and so tight against his commanding prick. His orgasm smashed into him, a violent squawk as his balls contracted to empty into the nymphomaniac and was quickly replaced by his friend.

Clare’s first climax was loud and passionate, her second was timed with her partner, yelling and crying in unison as their loins quivered together. They collapsed on the bed, sated as they looked at me, erect and eager in the corner. “Wank yourself off,” she demanded with a sly grin. “I don’t think I’ll feel you if we had sex. So small … so very, very small.”

I barely needed to touch my cock to have waves of cum spewing from the tip, coating my shaft and running into my pubic hair. They giggled, my girlfriend got up to kiss me.

“Love you,” I whispered in her ear. She squeezed my bum.

“Love you too!”

That night was the start of something wonderful: small penis humiliation was new and exciting for us. It played into our dynamic fantastically and there was a never-ending stream of men who wanted to fuck a sexy girl while imposing their masculinity on her humiliated boyfriend.

But as much as Clare enjoyed it, we also adored our more vanilla sex so we made a promise: rampant kinkiness and sluttiness at the weekend, tender and sweet love-making during the week.

And that works well for me and for Clare. And it enables me to satisfy my nymphomaniac.

The End.


One comment

  • Paul Kraftt

    great story!1 thanks for sharing it with us!! anymore chapters cumming


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