My name is Rosetta and until recently I was a very respectable married white lady living in middle England with a rich husband, Ken, who is nearly twenty years my senior.
When the two of us were younger the age difference didn’t seem to matter but now it does. He is nearly 57 and over the hill; I’m 37 and the hill is so far away I can’t even see it yet!
I’m a brunette with shoulder-length hair; five feet four inches tall and very slim but with a 36DD chest.
My upbringing was very ordinary by most standards and my parents tried to made sure that I stayed on the rails, which mostly I did, although sometimes I think that, just as some people who are blind or deaf are able to develop their other senses to a higher degree, being made to behave in a certain way allowed me to create for myself a whole range of sexual fantasies - most of which I’m afraid I still have many years later.
It was on my 36th birthday last year when things began to change.
Ken had taken me out to our favourite restaurant which is a part of a small country hotel about 25 miles from where we live. He drove us there in his Jaguar and of course it was expected that I would be driving back, he having had too much to drink as usual.
When we arrived I was not very pleased to find that our small intimate restaurant had been taken over for the evening by a large party of rugby supporters who were on their way to (or from) a big match somewhere. I think there must have been at least f******n of them and the restaurant had been rearranged so that there was one large table for them and just one small table near the window where Ken and I were placed.
During the meal I sat with my back to the group and got a bit annoyed with Ken when he kept on chipping into the loud conversations going on behind me. I think he used to be into rugby quite a lot in his younger days.
We eventually finished our meal but I really hadn’t enjoyed it because of the atmosphere in there which was quite different to what I had expected.
When the coffee was served I was horrified when one of the men behind me turned round and, encouraged by the others, asked us if we would join them at their table. I glared at Ken but before I had the chance to decline he had accepted the offer, got up and walked round to the other side of the long table where a space was made for him. This left me really with no choice but to turn around on my chair and then, after a bit of shuffling, a space was also made for me, sitting on the opposite side from Ken, although not directly facing him.
In the conversations which followed, it came out that it was my birthday and then everyone started to make a big fuss of me and drinks started arriving and I suppose that gradually I started to unwind.
I had on a little black dress which was backless and so I had a worn a large shawl across my shoulders; even though it was June it can sometimes get chilly in the evenings.
As the minutes went by and Ken seemed to be getting more and more d***k in the company opposite, I was chatting to the two men either side of me about work and life in general when suddenly I felt a hand stroking my naked back. I swung round first to look at Paul, the guy on my left, and then realised it must be from the other side where a guy called Ollie was sitting. I shook my head at him and tried to shrug him off but he just smiled and then another hand – this time definitely Paul – started to do the same thing at the other side. I know at this point I should have got up and told Ken we were going home but something stopped me and I just sat there for a little while as both these men’s hands wandered up and down my back, getting more and more adventurous as fingers began to slide underneath the edges of the material.
If I'm honest I suppose that I was more than a bit flattered at the attention (as well as annoyed with Ken) and so I let it carry for on longer than I should have done. It also crossed my mind that this was the nearest I had ever come to one of those private fantasies of mine (which I may tell you about later)
I’d had very little to drink during the meal as I knew I would be driving later but soon I found myself feeling a bit tipsy as a second, then a third glass of wine was poured for me.
Then, as Ken continued merrily chatting away and sharing stories and jokes with the group I froze as I felt a hand on my leg. It was Paul. As Ollie continued with the treatment to my back Paul moved his hand a few times up and down my bare leg and, in this way, pushed my short dress up towards my panties.
It felt like a mild electric shock! I put my hand on his to try and stop him but I was nowhere near strong enough and he just held onto my inner thigh and wouldn’t move. I gave him a hard stare and whispered for him to get off me but then Ollie, no doubt realising what his friend was up to, started to do the same.
Slowly, my dress was pushed right up and I suddenly felt fingers tracing the edges of my panties which I could feel were getting wet. I was virtually being held in that position by strong hands which gradually pulled my legs apart and fingers then started to stroke my pussy lips, first on the outside of my panties, and then – Oh My God! - now they had slid underneath and were rubbing my dripping pussy lips. By now I was dripping wet and I knew that this would have to stop somehow when, all of a sudden, Ken got up and staggered out of the room to go to the toilet.
Here was my chance to put a stop to all this and as I started to say something to Paul and Ollie I suddenly found myself being unceremoniously lifted up out of my chair from behind by a third man whose hands were too close for comfort to my breasts; as I tried to protest at this latest indignity my dress was pulled the rest of the way up by Paul and Ollie so that my red panties could be seen by everyone. My arms were held and I could do nothing as, between them, they pulled my panties right down my legs and off, throwing them across to the other end of the table.
I was then allowed to sit down once again and was still pleading to be allowed to have my panties back when Ken returned and sat down again.
There was a few moments when I thought that having my panties for a trophy would be enough for them all, but I was wrong. Again my legs were the target as both Paul and Ollie stroked them and then started slowly to prise them apart again which I tried to resist without any success. By now I think I was resigned to the fact that I wasn’t going to be able to stop what was happening without causing a lot of embarrassment to all concerned and so I tried to relax a little and had another drink and faintly smiled across at Ken who was completely oblivious to the fact that his darling wife was now minus her knickers and was being attacked on both sides by two strangers who, at the same time aas laughing and joking with him, had their fingers inside her pussy.
But I was not expecting what happened next.
From under the table, a head - a bald head - suddenly appeared between my legs as they were being held apart. This person wasted no time in attacking my pussy which was being licked and tongue-fucked like there was no tomorrow.
In all the years I'd been married to Ken, though I masturbated very often, I had never had this done to me. In no time at all I felt myself starting to cum and, passing comment on how hot it was getting, I took off my scarf and bunched it up on the table in front of me to conceal what was happening. I slid closer to the edge of my chair so that the invader could get as close to me as possible and bit my lip hard as the suppressed but inevitable orgasm swept me away. Ken? He didn’t even notice.
Now I told Ollie and Paul that they really did have to stop as I needed the loo. So I discreetly adjusted my dress and left the table. By the time I returned Ken was at the bar where two or three of the group, plying him with yet more whisky, were trying to persuade him that we shouldn’t drive and instead book in overnight at the hotel. Somehow I don’t think they were motivated by concerns about our welfare, but that’s another story.
Posted by rosetta2 5 years ago Views: