I Let Frank Stick It in My Tank

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By Lauren McAllister

Every Saturday for the last 3 years, Frank would come over to our house for dinner and to watch a game. Only, scout’s-honest-truth of the matter was, we never watched no game. Well, at least on the TV. Right before he arrived, I’d take off all my clothes and put on this skimpy apron. I’d then proceed to serve the two fellas their taters and steak while John and Frank’d be touching me up, down and yonder. And God forbid I should have to bend over to pick up a dropped spoon or some such. Lo-ordy!

And after the prandials were all swallowed and burped, the three of us’d trip on into the bedroom and they’d fuck and suck me ‘til I was beggin for the aspirin. I guess Frank’s wife weren’t really that interested in the whole bumpin’ the hump stuff, so’s our little arrangement worked out like peach preserves on a waffle for everyone concerned. Frank and Johnny got to get their various rocks off and I really enjoyed havin’ cocks comin’ at me from every conceivable angle. I think one of ‘em even came in my ear, one time. Probably after imbibing a tad more rosé than was wise along with the casserole. Didn’t hurt of nothin’ but the stereo sure sounded funny for the next week or so.

It was somethin’ I looked forward to all week, like “The Masked Singer,” only fuck night was Saturday and “The Mask” is on the Wednesday.

It all got started at some party somewhere’s, eh? We’d all been chugging on the hard lemonade between dances and the next thing I knows is I got Frank’s big ole cock in my mouth behind the coke machine. Johnny was just standin’ there, real interested, like he was watchin’ an episode of “Ice Road Truckers.” Fixated, is what I’d call it. Well, I figured, if Johnny don’t mind, I’d finish the business at hand. And don’t that son of a gun cum right there onto my tonsils. I had his sperm wrigglin’ all over the place. Showed the entire goopy mess to Johnny too, right before I goes an’ swallars the lot. Frank didn’t know whether to cheer or run. He stuffed his pecker back into those jeans pretty quick, though. Never did get the Coke I went there for.

Since that time, I pretty well never seen Frank with his pants on.

As I say, this whole menagé of your trois arrangement, and me wearing solely the sexy apron at dinner, was the piece of pork in my beans. But then somethin’ went and happened that turned the entire situation on its proverbial head.

Johnny had to leave town, see, on account of his mother urgently needed a kidney and John was afraid she was gonna come lookin’ for his. So, while he was layin’ low in some undisclosed location, I got to wondering about Saturday. Well, don’t Johnny say to go right ahead as scheduled without him. This was a bit of a puzzler to get my head around, at first. I mean, Frank, he’d literally fucked me over 200 times but Johnny always had his cock in my mouth or up my pooper, while Frankie was goin’ about his business. Goin’ one-on-one with someone other than John just didn’t seem right somehow. On the other hand, Frankie was a total cupcake and there’s no way I wanted to leave him standing around all weekend with his pecker in his hand. That little Miss Wifey of his sure wasn’t about to invite it in for a swim.
So, in the end, I cast caution to his wind and said, “Sure, come on over.”

Putting on the apron that night, though, sure gave me the fibber-dee-jibbits. A Jehovah’s Witness came to the door first, which kinda lightened my mood. The look at that poor boy’s face when one of my tits fell out… I asked him if he wanted to put it back in for me but he just turned around and hightailed it like the dickens.

When Frank finally showed up, he was all dressed up like he was goin’ to a funeral. Plus, he brought me a whole mitt full of mums, like I was some sort of prom date or what have you.

“Hey there, Frank,” I says. “I’m a little too nervous to don the feedbag, what with things bein’ so dig-darn awkwardly different. So, do you just want to go in the back and fuck?”

“That might help calm my nerves,” he shakily responded.

So, off we trotted to the humpinest room in the house, but when we got there, we just kinda stared at each other.

“Should we kiss?” he asked after about a year-and-a-half of knee-shaking silence.

It’s a luckier than four-legged snake that I don’t pee when I’m nervous, or we would have needed a canoe in that there room. It felt like my vagina done crawled up into my throat from embarrassment. But, as with most of the important moments in this here life, if fell to the woman to get the ball-a-rollin’. So, I grabbed a hold of Frankie’s noodles and stuck my tongue into his mouth, like it was lookin’ for ice cream and placed one of his mitts on my naked bum. This removed most of the pre-fornicatory tension. Pretty soon, Frankie’s got his ring finger up my pucker hole and we’re slap bang in the middle of familiar territory.

I pulled his pants down and was about to get right to my usual tonsil-tappin’ sloppy blowjob but then decided to go down (pardon the penis pun) a different road. Instead, I began to gently lick his weiner. For about ten minutes! I circled his narbles, dragged my tongue up the shaft, then kissed and sucked his big purple head. As I was bobbing up and down on Frankie’s squirt gun, I kept expecting Johnny’s johnnie to start squeezin’ into my back door, but no such violation of my posterior transpired. It wasn’t long into tonguing his dong, that I decided that I was just going to have buck up to get used to only having one cock in the room and in me.

Before you could say “Pass the rappie pie”, we were on the marital mattress and touching and squeezin’ body parts not oft talked about in politer company. Frank’s mouth was doin’ a spectacular job of bringing my tits to a boil. He had my nipples bouncin’ around my areolas like they was at a barn dance. I had my hand up under his nutsack, fiddlin’ and a jigglin’ ‘em while our tongues were havin’ unholy sex inside our heads-holes.

Presently, I felt Frankie’s hand on my inner thigh. Well, I knew what that meant. “Spread ‘em and prepare to get poked!” By now, I was super anxious to get his rod into my bod so I opened up my legs like they were bein’ pulled apart by itchy horses.

Frank pressed the heel of his hand onto my lady lagoon.  Jeepin’ fuckin’ cribners! Electrical yummy sparks shot around my abdomen like fireworks goin’ off in an outhouse.

Then, he sticks his tongue down into my left lung and climbs on top of me. I gotta say, his warm, soft skin weighing down on my tits turned the heat way up in my oven. Pretty soon, I could feel the head of his doowanger pressin’ against my joy tunnel. Well, I didn’t want him bein’ polite and waitin’ out there all day, ‘cause, as far as I was concerned, it was time to get this darn poon party started.  So, I reaches down between my legs and slides his manly tip up and down my cum crevice. Frankie let out a low cow-like moan as the first few centimeters of his baby-wand breached the gateway to my sperm corral. Now it was my turn to start makin’ cow noises as the length of his fuckstick slowly pushed up inside me. I jammed my fingers into his cheeks like I was plannin’ to go bowlin’ with his ass and lifted my knees towards the ceiling. This was to let his pecker fully partake in my penis pond privileges. And lordy, did he take advantage of that invitation. Frankie began a poundin’ on my pearl like he was puttin’ together some shelves with his pelvis. This was a major fucking fucking. I didn’t need that second cock on this night, the way Frank was whizzin’ in and out of my fuck-tunnel. My clitoris had swollen up to the size of a Timbit as the walls of my lap larder began to put a serious squeeze on. Bingo! Houston we have an orgasm! He continued to pump like the dickens inside me. Not too hard, but just the right amount to extend my climax until my legs started to shake like a wet dog. When I calmed down, I decided to give him that forbidden candy that all men want. I rolled over and pulled my poop-flaps apart. Frankie quickly lubed up and pressed that wonderful cock of his up against my pucker hole. I know a lot of girls don’t like getting butt-fucked but I just love offering my ass up to a man. There’s nothing like the feeling of being completely filled up back there. That moment when your sphincter finally gives way and his lap luger forces its way up into your fudge tunnel… It just sends clitoral jolt-bolts shooting straight up my spin.  And then those pelvic thrusts start. Oooh, the feeling when his cock starts its rockin’ ‘n rollin’ in my colon and his hipbones get all slaphappy on my ass… well, I just lay there wishin’ I’d remembered to ask him to tie me up first. Pretty soon Frank’s pace shifted gear. I gave him a couple of booty-bumps to help ignite his cock-bomb. And by the sounds of it, Frankie had a really nice kaboom in my backroom. I love to hear that grunt when a man is filling up your anal cavity with shot after shot of his gooey spunk.

As he lay there on top of me, like an unconscious harbor seal – and all men do it –  I concentrated on my anal aperture closing up shop. Frank kissed the back of my neck and shoulders as the final inch of his dwindling dick was booted out of my butt button.

For the next hour or so, we kissed and fondled each other’s privates like we were at a school dance. That’s when I realized that I didn’t want him to leave. Oh my God! I’d fallen in love with the guy.

Frank spent the rest of night cuddling me – well, and fucking me a couple more times. In fact, he never left. Johnnie was pretty swell about the whole thing. Considering Frankie was just an invited guest in my gash. Now, John and Frank get to ride my hide three-days-a-week each, but on Saturday…. Well, it’s every man for himself and whatever hole he can find to stick it in. And, ladies and gentlemen, it’s still the highlight of my week.

The End

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Sally is into couples and the secret to bedding a couple? Bed the woman first, which is exactly what Sally has planned with a bottle of wine and a steaming hot tub.

Copyright Lauren McAllister 2022

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