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Archive-name: Affairs/eatit.txt


Archive-title: Eat It!

        My name is Maureen, and I'm taking the time to write this to help out

other women who might have the same problem as myself. My dilemma was simple.

I married a wonderful, secure, attractive man, whom I adore. I also adore

having my pussy eaten, and unfortunately, my husband, who not normally a

picky eater, stops one step short of hair pie. No matter how I cleansed myself

or how much I would suck his cock, he would simply and without further

discussion refuse to slide his tongue into my love nest. I have a very good

girlfriend who loves to give me excellent head, although I do not consider

myself a lesbian and have never gone down on her. One day, while she was

munching away between my thighs, I let it slip that Ken, my husband, had never

experimented with oral sex on me. Debbie was aghast, and she told me she would

help me formulate a plan to remedy the situation.

        Debbie is a foxy, horny 24-year-old with an incredible chest

measurement of 42C. She told me that she would see if she could seduce my

husband into eating her out, and if she could, then we would know that it is

not oral sex itself that Ken objects to, but me. we set it up so that Debbie

would come over one day after I had left for an evening class that I attend.

She tried to get me to peek through a window at the action, but I felt that

I might get, jealous and try to break it up if it got too steamy.

        Actually, I was pretty sure that Debbie would not get her pussy eaten

that night. We came to an understanding that if she did get my husband and

herself too horny, they could fuck, but I didn't want to hear about it from

anyone except Ken.

        The following is Debbie's version of what transpired. I left for my

class at 6:45 P.M. after kissing Ken good-night. Debbie rand the bell at about

8:30, innocently looking for me. Ken explained that I was out for the evening,

but invited her in to watch a football game. Debbie, naturally, agreed to

stay, and they both settled on the sofa to watch.

        About halfway through the first quarter, Debbie let out an anguished

moan and started to rub her left tit through her blouse and bra. Apologizing,

she started to leave the room. Ken asked what was wrong and she relayed a

made-up story about a breast aneurysm that could occasionally be painful. She

told him that she would have to massage it for about half an hour before the

pain would subside. Ken told her to relax, that he was super-happily married,

and that she could probably stay in the same room and massage it without fear

of being attacked by him.

        She asked if he was really under control, because she would like to

remove her bra and blouse if it was safe. He told her to go ahead. His dick

started to get hard as he watched her, out of the corner of his eye, strip off

her top and massage herself. Debbie's nipple became erect, and she

occasionally stopped to tug at it in a casual, relaxed manner. At the end of

the first quarter, their conversation had resumed and Debbie decided to make a

move. She told Ken that her hand was getting tired, but there was still a

little pain, and asked if he could rub her breast without getting too horny.

Without hesitation, ken moved over, reached around her, and began rubbing. She

protested at first, saying that he wasn't doing it correctly. Debbie explained

that she could demonstrate the proper technique on his dick, and had it out of

his pants in under ten seconds.

        Ken did protest at first, but one of her gentle penis pulls silenced

him immediately. Before too long Debbie was sucking all eight inches of Ken's

dick, and he was lying back, moaning. She casually removed her skirt and slip,

leaving her vital opening still covered by panty hose and panties. Ken, who

is no great master of control, was about to come and told her so, so she

stopped immediately, leaving him one second short of an orgasm. She directed

him to lie on the couch faceup as she lay down on top of him. First she slid

her nylon-covered thighs on each side of Ken's penis, contracting her legs

around it. Ken moaned that the nylon felt incredible around his dick. She

wriggled down his body until her breasts were on both sidesof his fully erect

member, and finally moved further down for more oral activity.

        By this time, Ken was facing a panty-hosed, panty-covered cunt

directly in his face. Probably out of instinct more than anything else, Ken's

tongue darted out and began licking the cotton crotch between Debbie's legs.

In his ecstasy, Ken told her that he was very inexperienced at oral sex, but

had eaten out his secretary a few times. I had to force this information out

of Debbie, but it didn't bother me as much as I thought it would. Debbie asked

him to go down on her, but he hesitated and got up from the couch. As he

walked down the hall, Debbie figured that that was the end of their session.

        To her surprise, Ken returned minutes later with a towel, ice cream,

chocolate syrup, and bananas. He spread the towel out on the couch as he

explained to her that the best way to eat cunt is in a "pussy sundae." He

proceeded to make an ice cream confection in her vigina and ate it all,

throughly licking the "dish" clean. Debbie refused to tell me much more after

that, leaving me to believe that they probably ended up fucking. But even that

didn't make me jealous, probably because I was coming when she relayed the

information to me. Debbie told me the entire story while she was making and

eating her own pussy sundae, with me as the dish.

        The next step was to somehow convince Ken to use me for a pussy

sundae without letting on that I had set him up with Debbie. I let a week

pass, and then put my new plan into action. When Ken came home from work, I

told him that I didn't feel quite right and my pussy had been itching terribly

all day. I told him that I had called a girlfriend who had recommended rubbing

butter on it, and I asked him if he would like to be the one doing the

rubbing. He readily agreed, and in no time I was down on the bed, his hard

fingers spreading the butter all over me. After a few minutes, I told him that

I was feeling a little bit better but thought that peanut better would help

more, due to its thicker consistency. He not only brought back a jar of peanut

butter, he also brought a jar of strawberry jam. Ken turned me into a

delicious peanut butter, jelly, and vagina sandwich. I was in total ecstasy,

and since then I have experenced the joy of acting as a dish for a sundae,

spaghetti, salad, and corn-on-the-cob.


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