Amazing Grace: Digging and Delving

Amazing Grace: Digging and Delving

© Bad Hobbit 2026

I felt the girl stiffen as the head of Claude's cock squeezed into the tight ring of her anus and began to insert itself into the tube of her rectum.

"Keep pushing out," he breathed into her ear as she whimpered a little.

"It - it hurts," she said, weakly.

"Not for long, I promise you," he replied.

Meanwhile, I was doing my best to take her mind off the strange invasion of her body she was feeling by exploring her vulva, and the delightfully rich folds of her pussy with my tongue. Unlike most girls her age, she hadn't waxed off all her pubic hair, though the part between her legs was smooth. The soft magenta crinkles that I could access between her spread, dark-coffee thighs were delectable, and I relished tracing their textures and crevices. Her arousal was obvious; the whole area was slick with her juices, and her little grunts of discomfort were punctuated by surprised gasps as Claude or I found a new place that delivered pleasure.

Once Claude had slowly rocked his entire length into Casho's tight little bottom, I switched to stroking her drooling pussy with my fingers and moved up, first to suckle on her hard nipples and then to kiss her full pouting lips.

"How does it feel now?" I asked, bemused by the wild expression on her face.

"So - so big - in - in me," she gasped.

"But good?"

"Getting - getting better," she panted back.

Casho had come to me as a first-year PhD student whose parents had fled Somalia when she was a baby. She'd done very well, graduating with a First in Archaeology from Oxford and wanting to gain her Doctorate by exploring the lost civilisations of the Middle East and Northern Africa. Sadly, there were no digs scheduled for the country of her birth - a rather dangerous region - but I was leading a three-month project between the southern Turkish towns of Tekmen and Tekeli, at a site that was reputed to be the location of the thirteenth century BCE Hittite town of Sarantuwa. The Hittites are a little-understood and under-researched civilisation in comparison with, say, the Assyrians, Persians or Ancient Egyptians, and this seemed a really good opportunity to quite literally break new ground. When I explained the project to Casho, she was excited.

What was even better was that Claude would be there too. His marine studies frequently took him far away from my digs, often to the Arctic or the Caribbean. Few archaeologists go there, partly because there's thought to be little to excavate, and partly because funding for such work is hard to find. But there was renewed interest in the Hittites, who ruled much of what is now modern Türkiye and parts of Syria from around the eighteenth to the tenth centuries BCE. Syria is still too dangerous, but I could conduct my dig near Tekmen while Claude surveyed the marine environment off that coast. Yes, his studies might take him as far as Alanya in the west, but we could be together for at least some of the time.

Now, as I've said before, Claude and I like to fuck. I think that may be an understatement. We love to fuck. And not just one another. If we can recruit some interesting man or woman into our bed, or one or more of each, so much the better. They don't have to be young, gorgeous and exotic like Casho. I'd derived a lot of pleasure from being fucked hard by one of Claude's diver friends in his fifties, and on another occasion, I face-sat one of my middle-aged colleagues in the UK while she was being sodomised by my husband, and a delightful time was had by all.

But Casho was special. At 22, and as an Oxford graduate, she had blossomed into a delightful and confident young woman. She had the classic Somali look: tall, slim, a long neck, an imperious straight nose, big dark eyes you could drown in and full, plump lips. Her breasts were a little larger than I might have expected for such a slim girl, and I found her immensely attractive. She reminded me somewhat of a young Iman Bowie, David Bowie's ex-model wife, reflecting her Somali heritage.

I could tell that Claude was equally fascinated by her the day he turned up at the dig. We'd been there for nearly three weeks, and - as is usual - we were dusty, dirty, sweaty and tired. The finds were encouraging, but spending all day on your knees with a trowel and a whisk broom, in a dry, dusty hole in the ground, barely covered by a tarpaulin for shade, doesn't exactly leave you feeling fresh.

Claude breezed in, wearing his usual T-shirt and shorts, embraced me and kissed my dirt-encrusted lips. I introduced him to Casho, and I could see the mutual attraction immediately. Claude has an instant, effortless magnetism that hasn't dulled in the twenty-odd years we've been together, and perhaps surprisingly, I have no problem with him using it on other women, as it creates interesting new bedfellows for us both. It seems that, despite being in my mid-forties, I'm somehow also able to attract male and female sex partners for us to share. Claude isn't bisexual, but he has encouraged my own bisexuality and has no problem with me finding interesting men to fuck me, either in our shared bed or outside it. Indeed, as I've implied, he has often done that himself, and has had numerous women I've never met. The critical element has been openness and honesty. If we fuck other people, we tell each other about what happened, often in considerable detail. That's how our marriage works - and it works well.

But Casho was, as we could both see, rather special.

I'd discovered, after just a few days, that the water flow in our rather basic accommodation was unpredictable and the 'hot' water was rarely above warm. While I, as the team leader, had been allocated a room with a private bathroom, most of the other team members had to make do with shared facilities. I could see Casho was unhappy about this, so I offered her the use of my bathroom. However, as the water ran out completely from time to time, I suggested that we shower together. She had agreed a little more readily than I'd expected. And I certainly enjoyed soaping my student's body, and having her do the same to me.

Then one evening, after about a week of shared ablutions, I'd washed her lustrous, thick black hair, and was soaping her back and shoulders when she turned to face me. Without thinking, I soaped her chest and breasts. Our eyes met, and after a moment's hesitation, she reached up to wash my breasts. Then she leaned closer and kissed me, and almost in a reflex action, quickly pulled away.

"Oh! Oh, I'm sorry. I - I didn't mean..."

"Oh, I sincerely hope you did," I replied, put my arm around her shoulders, and returned the kiss. After a moment's confusion, we were kissing hungrily and embracing, our soap-covered breasts rubbing wetly together, as the weak dribble of water washed over our bodies.

A little later, the residual moisture on our skins helping to cool us in the oppressive heat, we created some heat and moisture of our own. Her body fascinated me. Her skin was perfect, smooth, flawless, and somewhere between a dark milky coffee and a walnut colour. Her legs were long and shapely, her hips and waist slim and taut, her bottom a delightful peachy shape, firm and without sag.

Initially, and despite that impetuous kiss, she was shy, and I established that she'd only been with a woman once before. In fact, her sexual experience overall was very limited, with just two boyfriends who'd had the privilege of inhabiting the space between her delectable, well-toned thighs. She'd retained her virginity into her early twenties, and then been with one guy for almost a year when she discovered that he was a moron - he'd slept with at least two other girls while having the signal honour of having the regular use of Casho's exquisite body. The second had only lasted a few weeks, as he turned out to be a selfish arsehole who treated the divine Casho as his inferior and wanted to manipulate her.

Her girl-girl fun had been more recent, and it seemed more satisfying. She instinctively understood the female body - why wouldn't she? Hers was quite extraordinary - and so we took perhaps an hour providing mutual pleasure. Men rush things; they want to get to the part where they can stick a cock into a waiting orifice as quickly as possible. Women like to take their time, enjoying subtle and sometimes not-so-subtle sensations as arousal builds to one or more very satisfying peaks.

And so it was with Casho and I. Every touch was a new pleasure, a new thrill. Her skin was so beautifully smooth. Mine was less so, though it may have been like that twenty years ago, when Claude first 'discovered, deflowered and corrupted' me, as he would claim. At the time, I was besotted with this gorgeous, charismatic man who entered my life and soon after entered my body. He, almost alone among all of the men since then who've pleasured me (and who I've pleasured), has truly understood the female need for gentle teasing and prolonged caresses. And yes, sometimes the urgent and animalistic drive to get deeply and energetically fucked. But he knows the difference; when I'm longing for slow caresses and when I'm desperate for cock.

With Casho, the slow, gentle licks and strokes over our necks and arms, our shoulders and breasts, our thighs and buttocks, were contained within an erotic dance that, rather like the Bolero, slowly built in both intensity and focus. Our kisses moved from sweet and tentative to gently longing to strong and needy, as our hands finally found nipples and vulva. Brushing through the dark, wiry bush that decorated the front of her sacred cleft, I was reminded of other innocent, sometimes naïve girls I'd seduced. I adore that sharp intake of breath, the involuntary jolt in a girl's whole body when my finger first penetrates the tight kiss of her vulva and locates the soft wetness between them. The plaintive moan from the dark girl as my lips fastened on a nipple, my tongue playfully strumming its tip, as my middle finger slid into Casho's wet hole and located that inner trigger-spot, was sublime.

I continued with gentle strokes of my palm across her smooth, flat abdomen, tracing the prominent ridges of her hip bones, as my other palm pressed on her vulva and my finger penetrated and teased. I felt her body rocking with the intensity of the sensations I was giving her, heard her moans rise in pitch and volume. I punctuated my caresses with forays of my mouth to meet hers - another lascivious kiss - before opening her thighs with my free hand and dipping down to taste her nectar. Every sweet surface of her inner folds was scrutinised and explored by my questing tongue. Her juices were sublime - spicy-sweet and copious. And her first orgasm, as I teased back the hood of her clitoris to expose and then pounce on the sensitive bud behind it, while energetically beckoning her G-spot to join the rest of her abdomen in climax, was delightful. I detected ripples in her long, beautifully toned thighs alongside my face, and I persisted until she was clutching my hair and begging me to stop.

Her ministrations to me were a little more tentative, perhaps even slightly clumsy, but I revelled in their innocence. She tried to mirror the way I'd caressed her, but my experience was a hundred times greater than hers, so I occasionally guided her. Eventually, I found myself clutching the dense mass of hair on her head and trying to press her mouth ever more tightly into my wide-open slit as my own sensations peaked. It wasn't the strongest orgasm I've ever had - I've experienced a few so extreme that I've lost consciousness - but the sense of innocence that Casho exuded as she did those divine things to me made it thrilling.

We lay together afterwards and spontaneously laughed. Our bodies were moist - from perspiration (no air conditioning), from saliva and from copious vaginal juices. I was overwhelmed by her fresh-faced beauty, her almost child-like excitement and the thrill of me having 'corrupted', as Claude would say, such a delightful girl. And knowing that the dig would last for three months, I was struck by the possibilities of erotic exploration that were now open to us.

Claude's arrival on the scene some time later caused a stir. Over half of my team were female, and by now I was very familiar with the obvious signs of longing and outright lust on the faces of women when they encounter my husband. There is something magical about him, and women melt - especially from between their legs - when he passes by. I felt sure that, should he - and I - desire it, he could probably fuck every woman in my team, from Esme, the sweet eighteen-year-old gap-year girl, to Patricia, the fit, fifty-something divorcee, who was returning to the field now that her children had flown the nest. While I felt sure that many of them would reject my advances should I approach them for some ladies-only fun, I was convinced that almost none of them would turn down a chance to bed Claude.

Patricia, in particular, intrigued me. An Archaeology PhD, she'd given up her career to bring up a family. Her son and daughter were now in full-time employment, and there was even a grandchild on the way, when her husband announced he was leaving her. She, to her credit, took this in her stride, forced a divorce settlement that caused her husband significant economic pain, and used her newfound freedom to apply to join my dig. Though she claimed her skills were rusty, her interest in pre-history hadn't waned, and she probably knew more about the Hittites than I did. And her wiry frame, freckled skin, and iron-grey hair did nothing to undermine her underlying attractiveness. 'Yes,' I thought, 'She would definitely be up for some Claude treatment. And maybe some attention from Grace as well.'

But Casho jumped straight onto Claude's radar as soon as he arrived. Her exotic appearance and obvious innocence, as well as the fact that she and I had been enjoying an active programme of mutual sexual pleasure for several weeks, made her a prime candidate for my husband's attention. When he joined us for our team meal on the evening of his arrival, at least a half dozen women around the table were salivating more over him than over their food, but Claude's laser attention was focused very much on the sweet Somali girl. Word had definitely got around that she and I now shared a bed, and there were clear signs of jealousy from the other ladies present that my dark-skinned protégée was now already entangled in Claude's naughty web.

Casho was almost visibly breathless under Claude's smouldering gaze. A little over twenty years earlier, I'd been a prisoner of that powerful, irresistible scrutiny. And I was blessed, because while he and I have shared our bed - or beds, because it has not always been together - with many other partners, Claude and I are as happily married and as firmly in love as on the day he first proposed. Other women may enjoy his firm, tanned body and his hard, indefatigable cock, sometimes with me joining in, sometimes on opposite sides of the world, but for the long term, he is mine and mine alone.

With Casho, as with the other besotted ladies around the table, it was lust at first sight. The other men present must have been quietly seething, wondering what it was that Claude had that provided such a magnetic pull on every woman that laid eyes on him. Yes, he is classically handsome - piercing dark eyes, high cheekbones, firm jaw, soft lips, hair that seems to fall effortlessly into place whatever the conditions - and he's lean, strong, and has remarkable stamina. (We once fucked continuously for over an hour. I was sore in both holes afterwards. I came six times - he held on and came only once). But there is this undefinable quality called 'charisma' about him that marks him as being beyond the mortal. He's like a god. And gods, particularly in the ancient traditions of the civilisations I study, do some miraculous and often very debauched things!

During the meal, Claude drank sparingly. He conversed with people around the table freely, principally about his work assessing and reporting on the marine environment. On other occasions, I've recruited him to survey, photograph and sometimes retrieve artefacts from submerged sites, and he recounted a few anecdotes to the assembled group. He has such authority that people listen when he speaks. It's hard to dislike him because he's charming and interesting, and the females were gazing in rapt attention. I wondered how many pairs of panties were already moist.

But his gaze kept returning to Casho, whom I'd deliberately sat opposite him, and I could immediately detect the powerful mutual attraction. The Somali girl kept glancing at me, sitting beside my husband, as if querying whether she was allowed to have lustful thoughts about the man facing her. I smiled and nodded, and her eyes widened as she began, I thought, to understand what we had in store for her. Or at least a small amount of what we were planning.

She seemed unsurprised when, after the meal, I took her back to the room that she and I had shared for several weeks, accompanied by my husband. Once through the door, I kissed her, as I had many times before, and then stood aside as my husband moved in. I watched her visibly melt into the kiss. His hands lightly touched her bare arms, and after almost a minute of mouth-to-mouth contact, he moved his focus down her long neck, licking lightly across her throat, at the junctions with her shoulders, across her collarbone. The expression on her face was one of astonished bliss.

I moved behind my young bedmate and slowly unfastened her sweet little dress, sliding it down over her body as my husband pursued its neckline down over Casho's firm and braless breasts. As the soft fabric puddled around her feet, I ran my tongue from the back of her neck down her spine, before kneeling and starting to remove her sweet, white panties. She gasped as she realised my husband and I were in the process of preparing her body to be enjoyed. And gasped again as I played the flat of my tongue over her firm and beautifully curved buttocks, before probing the cleft between them.

She cried out, and then moaned again as Claude cupped one of her breasts while tantalising the front of her thigh with the other hand. Her soft semi-protests were silenced as his mouth again closed over hers. Meanwhile, my own mouth played soft games on her inner thigh and the rear of her vulva.

A minute later, we steered this black beauty onto the bed and, as a prize between us, began to caress and devour her. Two mouths and four hands on flawless, dark skin, leaving visible moist trails and invisible frissons wherever we passed. My fingers were the first between Casho's elegant thighs, and I confirmed that she was well on the way to readiness for the inevitable. As Claude again enjoyed her long, hard nipples, I tasted her spicy nectar. Her moans and cries became more intense. I worked the little cleft from the side, insinuating my tongue between the plump lips of her vulva, brushing the sculpted mat of dark hair with my cheek, before moving around her body, parting her legs and moving in for the next phase.

I knew Casho loved to have her pussy eaten. On one of our erotic evenings, I'd taken nearly forty minutes over this delicious task, starting with slow, lazy licks over those sweet outer lips, and finishing with a finger in each hole and my tongue working her clitoris like a hummingbird as she squealed and moaned, her body thrashing wildly. But tonight, I would simply warm up her pink-in-black cleft, ensuring maximal lubrication. Tonight, and very soon, the primary goal was for my sweet black friend to be fucked to oblivion by my superstar stud of a husband.

Once I judged she was ready, I nodded to Claude, and we changed positions. I lay alongside Casho, stroking her flat abdomen and licking her neck, as Claude arranged himself between her legs. Her face bore an expression almost of an erotic trance.

"Casho, my sweet, Claude would like to fuck you." She gasped at the word, and her face turned toward me, her eyes wide in a mixture of trepidation and extreme excitement.

"Will he - will he be gentle?"

"Of course, my sweet." I leaned in and kissed her big, pouting lips.

As I leaned back, smiling, she glanced down along Claude's lean, athletic body, and her expression became one of alarm.

"He - he's not wearing a condom!" she gasped.

"It's OK, my husband had a vasectomy years ago. He can't make you pregnant, and he has regular STI checks. So just enjoy this, Casho. You'll remember this fuck for a very long time."

She looked up into his eyes, his smiling face showing how much he was enjoying this, and how much he would enjoy what followed.

"Raise your knees, Casho," Claude said in his soft and sexy French accent. "This will make your pussy more accessible. Grace, perhaps a pillow? Her buttocks are slim."

I encouraged Casho to arch her back, slid a pillow under her trim bottom, and then placed a hand over her mons and slid a finger onto her clitoris. She gasped. And then let out a long, plaintive moan as Claude's thick seven inches slowly filled her.

Picasso famously once said, "I paint with my prick." Claude is an artist with his cock. He hasn't actually painted anything with it, unless you count the insides of numerous vaginas, rectums, mouths and gullets - and not a few faces - but what he does with it, especially inside the first two orifices on that list, is quite a masterpiece in itself. He has this knack of applying a slight swirl to his thrusts, exploring the inside of each woman's body cavities and assessing where the sensitive spots are. Once he's satisfied, he ensures that she is satisfied by carefully and consistently hitting every pleasure point available. A sweet, tiny Thai girl called Dusita, barely 1.5m tall, once screamed because Claude had managed to reach deep inside her cunt and press the secret button right at the top. Her orgasms - several - as she rode my husband's body, made her look like she was being electrocuted. Claude has never managed to reach that deep inside me with his cock - I guess my cunt, like that of most normal-sized women, is deeper than Dusita's - but he demonstrated on a couple of occasions with a long vibrator, and I found the sensations strange but very exciting. And then (at his insistence) I was fucked by two black guys with very long (and thick) cocks, and when they hit that spot, it felt amazing.

But even though not exceptionally long, his cock is thick enough, and his use of it sufficiently skilled, that he never fails to excite with it. Some women have told him to bring them to orgasm before fucking them, as they don't enjoy penetration that much. He then went on to show them that they were most definitely capable of orgasm from penetrative sex - usually in the vagina, but sometimes anally as well - if only the right man was doing it.

Casho soon discovered that the right man was fucking her. "OH! Oh my! Oh that - that's - gooood!" she gasped. Her long dark legs wrapped around my husband's hips, and I could see them flexing as she pulled herself onto his cock, forcing him deeper inside her. Her firm, pert, and surprisingly large breasts were crushed against his chest, as he licked and nibbled her neck, her arms tight around his broad shoulders.

"OOOH! YES! That's - that's the - the spot! YES! Oh GOD that's good!"

By now, any fears Casho might have had seemed to have evaporated, and I delighted in watching her lithe brown body twist and rock as Claude moved from slow, even strokes to hard, deep thrusts. Her first orgasm seemed to take her totally by surprise, and she started moaning and almost howling as her body shook. But Claude wasn't finished with her yet.

Even as she was coming, he shifted position, moving his legs and freeing himself from the embrace of Casho's silky thighs to roll over onto his back and lift her on top. She squealed - and then discovered he was even deeper inside her, treating her as the rider of a wild stallion as she bounced on top of his lithe, undulating body.

I took the opportunity to move in, capture one of her delightful breasts in my hand and, with the other hand embedded in her dense, frizzy hair, kiss her passionately. While I was doing this, my husband, his arms now freed from supporting his body, reached out and thumbed her clitoris. I felt her scream go into my mouth as she bounced effortlessly toward her second orgasm. And, after she'd calmed just a little, I slipped in behind her, straddled my husband's legs, pressed my breasts against Casho's smooth back, cupped both of hers in my hands and licked the back of her neck.

She was softly sobbing as her second orgasm subsided and she began the ascent toward her third.

"Oh, my God! Oh my God! It's - oh God it's so - INTENSE!"

"Yes it is, sweetie. He's going to keep fucking you and making you come until you tell him you've had enough."

"I can't - AH! AH! I - I can't take - much - much more!" she moaned.

"What do you want him to do?"

"OOH! OOH! YES! Just - just THERE!"

"Do you want him to keep fucking you?"

"I - I - I'll get - sore, but..."

"Do you want him to come?"

"OH, MY GOD! It - it's happening AGAIN!"

"If you want him to make you come just once more, tell him."

"Wha - what?"

"Tell him to fuck you. Tell him to come inside you. Do it - or he won't stop."

"I - I - OHMYGOD I'M CUMMMMING AGAIIIIN!" she screamed, and her body went into convulsions. I held her steady, hands cupping her impressive breasts, while she moaned and squealed. As she started coming down, I repeated my suggestion. And moved one hand to cup her sweet bush - and rub her clitoris.

"Oh! OHOHOH!" she moaned. "Can't - can't take it - any - any more!"

"So tell him," I said softly.

"Claude, please - OH! OHMYGOD! OH! Oh. Please - please - fuck me - and come in me. SOOON!"

I let her squirm for a few moments, as Claude was now pounding her sweet little cunt mercilessly from below as she bounced and wriggled.

"Again," I whispered.

"FUCK! FUCK ME! CUMMMM! PLEEEEEASE!" she almost screamed.

And Claude did. A few enthusiastic thrusts and I watched my husband's normally serene face contort into an expression I recognised from thousands of often spectacular fucks, over our twenty-plus years of marriage. He was coming. And, for the fourth time, so was Casho.

We were in a huddle, Casho slumped onto my husband's body, me embracing her from behind. I was very aroused. My pussy was drooling and I was aching for release. But I had to be patient. I knew from years of experience that good things come to those who wait. And good comes...

Ten minutes later, Casho was between my legs, licking my already juicy pussy while I sucked my husband's dick back to hardness. Then it was Casho's turn to open her mouth wide for Claude as I prepared for what I knew would be an epic and highly orgasmic session.

"You know what to do, darling. Two holes. Do your worst!" I grinned at him.

And got fucked. Fucked hard, first in the hole God intended - my wet, aching cunt - and then, once my husband had demonstrated his skills in G-spot stimulation while Casho worked my clit with her fingers to the point of Orgasm Number One - up my under-used but needy arse. Since that first session, all those years ago, with Naughty Niamh in attendance, I had learned to love 'The Greek Way'. I could come as strongly from being sodomised as from being fucked, especially if it was my husband wielding the instrument of my torment. Fuck, he's an artist of the arse. He not only knows just how to hit every spot in a woman's cunt that can give her the vaginal orgasm that she never expected, but he can do things inside her arse that blow all her fuses and show her that anal is at least as pleasurable as vaginal sex. He's done it with me so many times that I always prepare for anal when my husband is around, because I know it will be worth it.

Casho watched in horrified fascination as my husband buggered me, and as I screamed "Fuck my arse! Fuck my fucking arse!" in the final throes of pre-orgasmic bliss before the pulsing in my rectal tube prompted my husband to unleash the seed that he had selflessly retained.

So it wasn't surprising that, the following evening, Casho joined us for a second night of debauchery. This time, I arranged it so my husband fucked me to two orgasms, with the help of Casho's mouth, then fingers in my slit, while she sat on my face and I devoured her exotic and delicious flesh. And then...

"I'm not sure," she said, rather feebly, as I douched her sweet anus in the bathroom. "He's - he's rather big..."

"You saw me last night? Yes, his cock is quite thick, but honestly, once he's through the hole, the rest is so thrilling you'll come multiple times."

"Really?" she said with a concerned expression, as she expelled the second flush from her bowels.

"Trust me."

She whimpered as I worked the lubricant into her rectum. "Oh, that's cold. And - and weird."

"Of course it is. You're going to do something taboo and depraved. And you're going to come harder than you ever imagined."

"Professor - er, Grace. Do you really think that..."

"Yes, Casho, I really think that you'll get so much pleasure from this that you'll want to keep doing it. The first time Claude fucked my arse..." I saw her wince at my words, but continued. "The first time Claude fucked my arse was nearly twenty years ago. He - and quite a few other men - have done that to me hundreds of times since then. Usually, it feels great. With Claude, it always feels fantastic. I promise you, sweetie, you'll love it."

With the vibrating anal plug securely in place, I returned our sweet African friend to the bedroom. Claude, naked, is a sight to see. His firm body, seemingly untouched by the years that have passed since he and I first fucked, tends to make women juice up. Sure, his cock isn't the largest I've ever had - a Jamaican gentleman with a ten-incher holds that prize, and it was, after some initial discomfort, sublime - but he really, really knows how to use it. It's his air of complete, calm and authoritative control that has women doing exactly as he says - and usually leaving our bedroom as a quivering and deeply satisfied heap of jelly.

"So, Casho, I'm going to fuck your delectable tight little arse this evening. Has it ever been fucked before?"

"N-no," she replied, looking very nervous. I checked; the anal plug seemed to be making her pussy rather wet.

"Good. So you're going to experience some exquisite sensations that few women ever get to feel. Are you ready?"

"I - I think so."

"Good. Now, do you like to suck cock?"

"I - I've done it a few times."

"But do you like it? Does it make you feel sexy?"

"No. Not really."

"A shame, because I'd like you to kneel here. In front of this mirror, and watch yourself getting me super-hard by sucking me. Will you do that for me, please?"

Reluctantly, Casho knelt at the place indicated. Claude stood in front of her, and she dutifully took the head of his cock in her mouth. She sucked gently, but Claude allowed her to use her mouth in her own way, and didn't push. She kept glancing sideways and upwards, aware of her reflection, sucking the cock of a very handsome and charismatic man.

Then I knelt beside her, opened my mouth and looked up. A moment later, Claude withdrew from Casho's sweet lips and pushed his cock into my mouth. I'd sucked his cock a thousand times. I knew what he liked, and he knew what I was capable of.

I don't deepthroat. My mouth is too small to accommodate a large cock for very long, but I've sucked him and many other men over the twenty or so years of our open marriage, and my oral technique is such that I can usually end up with a creamy mouthful should I choose to. If I try hard, I can take Claude quite deep for short periods, but his cock is too thick for me to persevere for minutes at a time. I generally use my tongue and lips to get a man to come, but that wasn't my goal right then; what I needed was hardness. Casho's tight little sphincter wouldn't yield to anything that wasn't as hard as a wooden peg, so she and I needed to give Claude a solid erection.

The required result achieved, Claude withdrew from my mouth, reached down and pulled both my black friend and me to our feet. Soundlessly, he led us to the bed.

"Grace, would you please prepare her for me?" he asked, softly.

I bent her over the bed, took hold of the end of the vibrating plug with one hand and slipped the other into the front of the black girl's pussy. She let out a low moan as I simultaneously stroked her clitoris while I slowly, excruciatingly, pulled the fat anal plug out of her sphincter. I eased it in and out, to increasingly anguished moans from Casho, as I stretched the tight passage to her rectum in preparation for the larger stretch she was about to encounter.

Meanwhile, Claude moved the big mirror, positioning it so that we could all watch as she was sodomised. The black girl was now literally trembling as I finally removed the plug, squeezed some more cold lubricant into the vacated and slightly distended hole, and then dribbled more onto my husband's cock, which he spread with one hand, while resting the other on Casho's slim hip.

"Ready?" he asked, as he lined up the head of his cock with the tight hole he intended to invade.

She made a soft noise - almost a squeak - and nodded feebly, looking at the reflection of her body, bent over the bed, legs spread, vulnerable, and Claude, beautiful, imperious, his thick cock positioned between her tight, coffee-coloured buttocks. She let out a little gasp, either of fear or pain - I couldn't tell.

Because at that point, Claude started to apply pressure.

"Brace yourself and push out, as I told you," I said softly, still stroking her pussy. She whimpered.

There was a look of intense concentration on Claude's face as he began, slowly and carefully, to force his way through her protesting sphincter. She whimpered some more. "Keep pushing out," he said in a reassuring tone.

"It - it hurts," she protested in a pained voice.

"Not for long, I promise you," he replied. "Soon I'll be inside, and it will start to feel so good you'll wonder why you never tried it before."

I kept playing with her pussy, and then slid to the floor and shuffled between her spread legs so I could admire and devour the pink-in-black fringes. Despite her apparent discomfort, she was deliciously wet, and I added to this moisture with my tongue and lips.

She let out a small moan as the head of his cock moved through the tight, narrow entrance into the wider passage beyond, then pulled back a little to stimulate the inside of the still-protesting sphincter.

"Better?" I asked from between her legs. Her plaintive squeak could imply that maybe it was, or maybe it wasn't.

I shuffled around, got to my feet, and used my fingers to again stimulate her pussy as I cupped one of her delightful breasts and moved to kiss her lips, the taste of her juices still on my mouth.

Then I heard her gasp as Claude finally filled her to the limit, his flat abdomen now pressed against her firm, pert bottom. Her eyes opened wide, perhaps in alarm, surprise, pain - or pleasure.

"How does it feel now?" I asked, bemused by the wild expression on her face.

"So - so big - in - in me," she gasped.

"But good?"

"Getting - getting better," she panted back.

Claude really knows how to fuck a girl's arse. I remember my first session, so many years ago, with Niamh, that delightful Irish slut (her own description of herself), first demonstrating the pleasures of anal sex by encouraging my husband to bugger her, and then helping to ease my concerns as Claude repeated the process on me. Between them, they were able to turn something scary and potentially painful into an erotic delight that I soon learned to crave.

Casho's expression told me that the pain and discomfort of her first anal penetration were easing and some glimmers of pleasure were emerging. A dozen strokes in, and without any verbalisation, I could see that the pain-pleasure barrier had been crossed, as she at first subtly, and then more energetically, pushed back and pulled forward in time with Claude's slow, measured thrusts.

"Look in the mirror, beautiful girl. What do you see?"

"I - OH! I see you - pushing - OOH! Pushing your - your..."

"My cock. Say it."

"Your - your cock into - into..."

"Into your delicious, tight, highly responsive little arse, my dear. Yes, my sweet, your lovely little arse is being fucked. Look at you. Such a beautiful, sexy young girl, made more gorgeous and erotic by her adventurous spirit. By taking my nice hard cock up your luscious tight arsehole."

I could see from her reflection that Casho's eyes were rolling as Claude's slow, deliberate thrust and withdrawal were now stimulating pleasure zones she hadn't realised existed for her. I have to say that the sight in the mirror was deeply erotic. There she was: a slim, dark, beautifully proportioned young body, her hands on the mattress, bent forward, her lovely smooth bottom high, her slim legs spread, and my handsome husband behind her, sliding a substantial cock in and out of her tight anus. I could see her astonishment at what was happening to her, the conflicted attitudes that made it both shocking and perfect. It was filthy and depraved. It was two beautiful people, indulging in a forbidden act. It was taboo and perverted. It was intensely erotic and, it seemed, increasingly pleasurable for both the participants.

Each time Claude pulled back, Casho gasped, and her eyes went wide at the unexpected pleasure produced by the pressure on the inner surface of her tight ring. Every time he drove his cock deep inside her rectum, she cried out with the intensity of the sensations in a place she'd never have expected to feel them. Within a few short minutes, she was moaning incoherently, and her head was lolling from side to side. The moans became louder and more urgent as Claude increased the pace.

"Look at the mirror, Casho. See that hot, beautiful girl. That's you, having naughty anal sex. Are you loving it?"

"Uh! Oh - oh my God!" She was staring, now, at the image. I saw her shuffle her legs to get a better view of the way Claude's cock was fucking her arse. Good!

"Are you going to come? Are you going to come with a nice thick cock up your sweet little arse?"

"Uh! Uh! Oh, please..."

I was now rubbing her clit with some urgency, in time with Claude's thrusts. I let my finger slide further back, probing the entrance to her lovely little cunt. She swung her head back to face me, her thick mane of hair swirling behind her. As our eyes met, I leaned in to kiss her. Claude began the action that always got me to come - multiple pulls on the ring, then some deep, hard thrusts - then repeat. Casho's moans reached a crescendo.

And then a gush of fluid washed over my hand, her thighs started shaking, and she was moaning as though wounded. Claude held her slim hips firmly as she seemed to lose the use of her legs. Her head dropped forward, and her moans became a wild shriek that went on and on.

'Yes,' I thought: 'Mission accomplished'.

But Claude didn't stop, and I didn't expect him to. As Casho's orgasm continued, so did Claude's fucking of her arse. Her arms gave way, and she would have fallen forward onto the bed had Claude not been holding her hips while I held her shoulders. Her shriek became a scream as more fluid spurted from her pussy. I looked into Claude's face, a mask of concentration. He nodded, and then, after a few more enthusiastic, sharp thrusts that made Casho howl, he came. I recognised the look of ecstatic release; I'd seen it so many times before, and had been delighted to be its cause on most occasions.

By now, it wasn't just Casho's pussy that was soaking. We carefully laid her, face down, across the bed. I looked at Claude, and I knew he could see the intense arousal in my face.

"Eat me! Fucking eat me, Claude!" I breathed.

And then he pushed me back, relatively gently, onto the bed beside the Somali girl, dropped to his knees on the floor and fastened his clever mouth onto my drooling and tingling pussy, and proceeded to give me an exquisite tongue-lashing, with additional finger-fucking of both holes. I managed two orgasms, and was vaguely aware, between one and two, that Casho had recovered from her post-orgasmic bliss and was watching me intently.

As I lay, panting and shaking after my second orgasm, Casho leaned over, smoothed my hair, and kissed me. "Grace, that was - extraordinary. I don't know how long it will take me to recover, but I'm so glad you talked me into this."

I smiled and kissed her back. "Thank you, Casho. And thank you for trusting me."

There was the sound of a door closing, and I saw Claude emerging from the bathroom.

"Ladies," he said with a smile. "I hope - and I believe - that you both enjoyed yourselves. I didn't keep count, but I think you've had several orgasms between you. The sight of your delightful bodies is making me horny again, and tomorrow I have to go back to my boat, so would you please oblige me with just one more? I've just cleaned up to make it nice."

Kneeling on the floor, facing each other in front of the big mirror, Casho was giggling as she and I took turns to suck Claude's cock. We did the porno thing of placing our mouths on either side of his shaft and moving up and down in parallel, two halves of an extended blowjob. I impressed on the black girl the importance of using the tongue, both when the cock was inside the mouth and also to lick it from balls to tip. Her extra-full lips presented an extra frisson, encircling the head of his cock and, with just a small movement either way, stimulating him in a highly erotic manner. The view in the mirror helped with our own arousal and commitment, and after around five minutes, in which we each tried to take my husband's penis as deep inside our respective mouths as possible - Casho managed a greater depth than I had anticipated, and only stopped because she started gagging - we shared a liquid meal and a facial.

We slept together in the rather cramped double bed, Casho sandwiched between Claude and me. At some point in the early hours, I was aware of someone kissing me and licking my neck. Trying not to wake Claude, Casho and I caressed gently. Skin touch led to breast fondling, led to pussy-stroking, led eventually to a delicious sixty-nine - which led to Claude taking the opportunity to move behind Casho, who was on top, and fuck her again. She didn't protest. Her moans of "OH YES!" and, surprisingly, "Yes, yes - fuck me! Fuck me harder!" got me so turned on that, when she came and rolled sideways off me, I spun around and presented my open pussy to my husband.

And got fucked. Hard. Just the way I wanted it. And my darling Claude whispered the most shocking obscenities in my ear: "Your cunt is so juicy! God, I'm going to fuck you so hard, like the slut you are!" until we both came, covered in sweat and rocking the bed noisily.

"I love you, Claude," I whispered as my orgasm subsided.

"I adore you, Grace. You are my darling, my angel," he replied.

Casho leaned closer, said, "That was awesome!" and hugged and kissed us both.

We slept well after that.