We had been doing it everywhere in those weeks following the cue ball incident. In the kitchen, in the bathroom, and in the garage! We were like teenagers on a voyage of discovery and our love was well fed by it. I didn't feel it was due to any change in me though. It was all her. Her voyage I guess.

The more we had sex, the more she wanted and it wasn’t long before I began to feel I was letting her down. You can't unsee things, and the things I'd seen were hard to forget. It nagged at me constantly and even though I enjoyed the sex and the adventure, I always wished I could give her more.

When I looked down on her naked body, I would envision it under the body of another man. No one in particular, most of the time, but always someone who had more to offer than me. It was a strange perversion. One that tickled both my jealousy and my insecurity. It was my life long fantasy and it would not go away. I had learned to accept that.

Within two weeks of that fateful night I'd suggested trying again, with someone else; someone less blessed.

She'd replied with the predictable, 'I want to re-find us before we go back down that route.'

I'd obviously agreed but I was quietly thrilled that she was willing to "go back down that route" at all.

So I began scouring the internet for worthy suitors. It wasn’t long before I found several suitable candidates. So like a dog with a new bone, I was ready to present my findings to her. I was a little nervous. I didn't want her thinking it was the only thing on my mind - even if it was. We were having some great sex at the time and I didn't want to belittle it. But I was driven to progress and I needed her onside.

She was reluctant to at first, but as she leaned over me, looking at the computer, her eyes widened and her attention was mine. Before long she had ousted me from my chair and was browsing her would-be lovers at her own leisure.

'If we're going to do this again I will choose,' she stated as she scrolled down the page.

Who was I to argue? My cock murmured at the very thought of her interest. I was happy.

In the following few weeks, we cracked on with our sexual endeavours. But more importantly, and on her choosing, we had managed to arrange a couple of nights with some company. I will start with the first.

He was a tall youth. On first impressions, seeing his pictures, was he looked young. But my wife seemed keen on him and she somehow believed him when he had stated he was thirty years old.

When he arrived I would have said he was more likely in his early twenties. He was very fresh faced and kind of nervous looking. He was around 6' 3" and quite slim. He had mousey quiffed hair and dark bushy eyebrows. He was very clean shaven and well dressed, and he smelled nice too. I could tell by her reaction on meeting him that she was a little taken back by his youthful looks, but he was our guest and we treated him as such.

He was edgy from the start and even after a couple of drinks he still seemed flustered and almost in a rush to get things started. It was a totally different atmosphere than when cue ball had entered our house. This time I felt more in control and less, dare I say it, intimidated.

We talked to him for five minutes but we got little out of him. It was more like me and the wife talking and him agreeing. Then from nowhere he loosened his fly and pulled down his trousers and shorts. It took us both aback, his choice of timing somehow telling me he wasn't much for our conversation. It was as if he felt so uncomfortable that he wished to divert the attention from his face to his groin and it had worked.

Both I and the wife chuckled a little in response, but in a way his nervousness had softened her towards him. She had almost said, 'aww' but luckily she stopped herself.

He had nothing to be shy about that was for sure. His cock was soft but heavy looking, quite long and bulbous. My wife threw me a nervous smile as I caught her copping a look. I wasn't sure what she first made of it, but she was certainly intrigued.

She edged across the sofa towards him. She didn't look comfortable next to him as he repetitively and roughly massaged himself. She looked as if she wanted nothing less than to help him, but as if duty bound she offered a hand. She was a bit drunk. He, however, declined saying, 'Just leave it with me for a sec. You could take off your clothes?'

Her eyes widened and she laughed. He was very serious. He hadn't even touched her or done anything in regards to loosening her mood, but now he wanted her to strip. Her amusement soon turned to a look of confusion. I think there was a definite crossroads situation going on in her head. I could see her weighing up her options. Did she really want to fuck this guy tonight? Or would she prefer leaving it, putting it down to a mismatch.

'If I can see your pussy I will get hard really quick,' he offered nervously, as if the word ‘pussy’ had shied away from leaving his mouth.

This guy really was a social retard. But he was also kind of likable. His inappropriately timed comments were funny, especially after a few drinks, and his nervous manner was endearing. Unlike cueball he posed no physical threat to me. I felt relaxed around him, even if his flaccid cock was already considerably larger than my own. I still felt I could easily evict him if the need arose and that felt good.

Now at this point my wife had leant forward and was draining the last of her vodka and coke. She placed the glass down, then stood and unbuttoned her tight fitting jeans. Her arse looked great in tight jeans, and even greater as she peeled them down her thighs. Her knickers came in tow, as she clumsily kicked and scraped them from her feet. There she was, stood in just her vest top and nothing else. Her trim, but hairy, muff so beautiful and tempting. Her arse, as ever, was divine and her pert little boobs, bulged and shaped her vest pleasingly. A picture of understated beauty.

She had taken to maintaining her bush quite regularly of late. I don't think it was for my benefit, she knew I was very partial to her furry minge, trimmed or not. I suppose when you're in the business of letting it out you become a little more aware of housekeeping.

She took her place back on the sofa, opposite end to him. Then she moved her bare legs onto the seat between them, her feet almost touching him. Her thighs looked creamy smooth, tucked together and full. He carried on pumping his meat as he eyed her soft legs and her crotch. He still wasn't hard but even limp it was quite a size, certainly bigger than our dildo.

She slid her bum down the sofa a little, placing her foot on his leg, very close to his penis. He took her ankle in his hand and started slowly caressing it. Her foot crept up his thigh slowly, until her toes ventured into his pubes and onto the stem of his cock. He repositioned slightly to aid her reach, she obliged by gently rubbing his shaft up and down, her toes splaying his girth.

The guy was anything but hard, flaccid even, but still he offered good length. He shifted as her toes pulled his foreskin tightly back, unleashing his pear-shaped bell end. He gripped her foot, moving it away. Then he took a condom from his shirt pocket.

There was a definite look of mischief in her eyes as she lay there watching him. Mischief and curiosity both. He was slow in preparing himself, slow and meticulous. Maybe if he had waited for a full erection things would have gone more smoothly. Still, eventually he managed to cloak his semi hard cock in its rubber sheath and he turned his attention to my wife.

He took a hold of both her ankles. Then separating her legs, he turned to face her. Her thighs parted just enough so that he could see her cute slit. He inhaled deeply in response, a rare show of passion as his hands explored their way up her shins, over her knees and up onto her fleshy thighs. With a firm touch he kneaded and worked them, tracing his thumbs ever up, towards her irresistible pussy. He ran his fingers through her neat pubes, ultimately his thumbs finding and parting her lips.

We never were too sure what he was thinking, or what he would do next. Still I was a little shocked by his next move.

Abruptly he pulled his hands away, then taking a firm grip of her ankles he spun her around, throwing her legs off the side of the sofa. He then knelt between them thrusting his penis to within inches of her vagina. My wife's eyes widened in surprise as he began to position her for sex, pulling her pussy towards him and spreading her legs so as to expose her further, and as quick as that, he made contact. I would like to say she shuddered to its touch, but she only ever looked shocked as he began trying to tuck his bell end into her opening.

It was still far too soft, I thought, but he carried on easing it and bending it into her excepting hole. She was accommodating half of its length before long. Then slowly he began edging it in and out, her moist pussy occasionally slurping in dispute. Another man was fucking my wife. Twenty years of imagining and fantasising and now here it was.

For quite a long moment she looked over at me with a bemused grin on her face, as he worked his semi-hard penis in and out of her. With each inward thrust it seemed to probe deeper, exploring her inner channel further with each stroke. For the first time that night a look of pleasure was in her eye.

His pace gained slowly as his cock slid more easily.

But it was her face that changed mostly. As his cock firmed up within her, his shaft obviously began to harden and swell, filling her more and more. Soon she could no longer hide the pleasure he was robotically forcing upon her. Her head arched back into the sofa, her mouth fell open and her breath began to quicken. A little moan escaped her as his pace once again quickened. His cock was no longer entering her with a bend, now it was straight and rock hard, as it penetrated her deeply, violating her softness.

Her hands desperately grabbed hold of her boobs as she fought for air. She was coming already I thought. Her body jerked and squirmed under his unrelenting thrusts. Like a machine, he proceeded; in and out, in and out, jerky and with very little grace, yet she began to look somewhat overwhelmed with pleasure. She clasped at a cushion, gripping it tightly. Her head craned forward to look at him entering her, his smooth rod pulling and pushing her tight lips in its wake.

Then to the side she looked, as if searching for an answer to an overwhelming feeling, but to no avail, so her head arched back, a breathless groan leaving her as it did. A look a slight pain began to etch her features as she breathed and fought her groans, but pleasure was with her it was very clear.

"Oh God!" she cried, as her head once again jerked forward.

He had rattled her, taken away that inner assurance she'd had. She almost looked lost or as if she were searching for an answer to his constant thrusting.

"Oh God!!" she gasped again.

There was nowhere to run now, she had been placed in the shop window and his cock was doing the bidding. She found herself under intense scrutiny and she did not know if she could handle the attention.

Her head fell back again, but as quick it lunged back it pushed forward, in response to yet another hard deep thrust.

"Oh God!" she almost screamed, her panic-stricken eyes watching as his powerful manhood probed her.

The look of fear I saw in her eye before was there again as she jerked her head side on, questioning herself as if this was too much. I wondered if she was close to stopping him, but never once did she say the word.

I then felt she needed some reassurance, so I headed for her, placing my hand on her forehead and stroking her hair from her eyes, telling her it was okay. As if coming out of a dream the guy stopped, very abruptly, and withdrew his rod from my wife.

It was thick, long, hard and wet, and very much bigger than anything she'd taken before. All of a sudden I could see exactly why she had been struggling. From my position I couldn't directly see her opening, but I guessed it was distressed. Now his cock hovered before it menacingly, eager to re-enter.

He looked up at me and nodded as to ask if it was okay to carry on. I looked at my wife, so innocent and sweet, a questioning glare on her shocked face. Can he carry on? Should he carry on? Do you want my help?

I backed away with a nod and he once again placed his bell end on my wife’s open gash. There was only a slight pause before he forced it back in and took her again. As he entered her she let out what I can only describe as a yelp, and as he re-found his rhythm, thrusting long and hard, her every breath was accompanied with a groan, and then yet another, "Oh God!!" escaped her as she cowered to his strokes.

She had never been fucked like this, so deeply, by dildo or cock and she could no longer deny it. The pleasure was overwhelming. She seemed to hit a constant orgasm, one which lasted and lasted as he jammed his cock methodically into her.

It took some time, but slowly she appeared to find herself. Where she'd looked lost, she now looked needful, in awe of what this man was doing to her.

He had shocked her, his nervous persona had led her down a shrouded path where she thought she was in control. But that path had led her down a one way street onto a dead end. And this was very much his turf. His neighbourhood and he was king of the manner. There had been a long fight where she had tried to hang onto her advantage, but inevitably she was overpowered and after a good fight she had succumbed to his power, and now she was in acceptance of his authority. Now she was moving to his rhythm, arching her hips to meet his each stroke. She was now his bitch, and for her troubles he intended to reward her.

On a personnel note it is hard to explain how I felt as this was happening. I do remember being amazed at this guys stamina, and the effect his cock was having on my wife. I was highly aroused, I really wanted to stroke my cock but I resisted. Visually, as I stood watching, it was everything I had dreamed of. A large hard cock banging my wife’s pussy, her grasping for air and in the throws of passion. But he seemed removed from the act somehow. As if he were operating a machine, a machine that drove my wife into a daze of pleasure.

I was a little disappointed, I must say. His abrupt start to proceedings and the manner of his semi-erect entrance had robbed me of that anticipation, that danger. I was disappointed that he never once tried to free my wife’s boobs from the vest that now hugged them. I hoped he would grab her legs and bend her knees into her chest but he never did. His hands were glued to her hips as if these were his controls, and health and safety stated never let go.

I also hoped he would turn her over and get her lovely arse in the air, then take her from behind but it was not so. This was his be all and end all and from his knees, he would finish as he had started.

My wife had stopped making the distressed noises some time ago. Now a rhythmic breathing pattern had taken their place, one that reeked of needful lust and pleasure. She had become totally accepting of his size, and of what he was doing. She looked so hot and sexy there, taking a fucking for the team. A wave of jealousy came over me, how unfair it was that I could never rock her world like this.

How he was still going was impressive to say the least, but how she was still enjoying it was the real shocker. Was this really my wife, her who had always said she preferred quickies? Twenty minutes, thirty minutes, maybe more, I couldn’t say, and still no sign of wanting it to end.

Through the gears he ran... up and down. When he sped up her breathes would match, as would her movement, in acceptance to meet his length. A whispered, "Yes, yes," every now again would accompany and an odd, "Oh god!"

As he slowed down she would greet him with longer breathes, as a releasing of pleasure. These moments appeared to be her favourites, yet it was hard to say as she appeared ever trapped in a daze of sex. Her eyes were rarely open, but on the odd occasion she did look to me, glazed tired eyes with a weak smile were offered, a look that told me yes.

When finally it came to an end, it was with more of a jerk and splutter than an explosion. He began going off rhythm and his inward thrusts became deeper and more lingering. He tensed up and groaned. Only four or five times did this happen before he slumped back, withdrawing.

His cock looked sore and swollen as it slid out. He had filled the end of his condom with seed and he quickly moved to his discarded garments to cover himself up, his cock swinging heavy as he went. It truly was a big piece.

When I looked onto my wife she had closed her legs and was lying, slumped in the same position, eyes closed and catching her breath, almost as if she could sleep right there, right then. I needed to see her pussy, longed to see it so I pulled her knees apart. There was a slight resistance as she looked up at me but whether it was through acceptance or lack of energy she let them open.

Her lips were loose and sore, red and glistening. Her hole gaped like never before as I separated her. In the short term she was utterly ruined, the aftermath of a huge cocks work, and I loved it.

I leaned in and gave it a kiss, whether or not she felt it, I couldn’t say. Then I turned to our guest who was almost ready to leave. I stood to thank him and see him well, offering him a drink or any other assistance he needed. He asked to use the bathroom so I showed him the way. Then afterwards I wished him a good night as he left.

Between eight and a half and nine inches. That was how he had advertised himself. So in my world that’s about eight and three quarter inches. The dildo I’d used on her was said to be seven and half inches, insertable length, though on later inspection I’d measured it at seven point three. So that extra one and a half inches had really been the key to my wife’s reaction. Her early discomfort, her panic at what was going on inside her. That and maybe a little more girth, which was hard to predict seeing as I never obtained that information from him. That one and a half inches had certainly taken her to a new level. One I thoroughly intended to meet again, and in time, push through.

In comparison to Cue Ball's cock, I could only estimate by memory but my guess would be that he was packing something in the region of eleven inches. That with a girth unthinkable. Was he the milestone to which all of our adventures would be measured, the Holy Grail, the ultimate level to which we strived?

In my eyes he obviously was.