Mrs B: Fucking All Those Strangers

So now I have to bring myself into Mrs B's story. Don't worry, I know it is her you are interested in, but I have been a part of her life for almost thirty years. To hear more about her, you'll have to put up with me tagging along.

I first see her as she chats, and to my eye flirts, with a group of young men in a pub in town. I am with friends, but my eyes keep going back to the girl with the blond curls. Yes, she is beautiful, but there is something else about her; every movement is graceful, each smile genuine, as she weaves a spell on the men around her and on one young man in particular. I watch as she reels him in. He is trying to play it cool, but any fool can see he is already hooked, and I am no fool.

I watch her for twenty minutes or so, and am surprised by how hard my cock is. I'm just looking at a girl in a bar; she shouldn't have that effect on me. I study her figure, imagining what she would look like without that dress on. Everything looks perfect to me, then she puts her mouth to the man's ear and says something. A moment later, he takes his jacket off the back of his chair, and she leads him away, out of the pub, into the night.

With her gone, I come to my senses and realise she had also cast that spell over me. My cock is aching in my trousers. I lean over to my friend Jenny and ask if we can go to her place.

"In a minute," she says, then she keeps me waiting for another half an hour.

Later, as we fuck, I keep thinking of the girl in the pub. Jenny is a real looker, and I love fucking her, but my thoughts drift back to those curls, the sway of those hips, the promise of full breasts pressing against the bodice beneath the dress. I shoot my load into Jenny, and a moment later, she toddles off to the bathroom to clean up. I roll onto my back and let out a big sigh.

I go to the pub when I can, but there is no sign of her. I am close to giving up when there she is, every bit as lovely as I remember, talking to some different guys from the last time I saw her. I watch as she once more weaves her magic, leans in to whisper in an ear, then leads the new man away. I am so turned on I have to go to the gents, lock myself in a cubicle, and jack off, thinking of her being fucked by a stranger.

Twice more I watch her pick up a man and lead him away.

I have to be next.

I go on my own to the pub, night after night, but no luck.

I fuck Jenny, I fuck Sandy, I fuck Chloe, but every time I cum thinking of her.

One lunchtime I am in town and I see that shock of blond curls as she walks away towards the market. I know it sounds creepy, but I follow her and see her go into a coffee shop in the Arcade. I follow her in and stand behind her in the queue, inches from those swaying hips.

My heart is pounding and my mouth is dry. Come on, do it, just do it now!

"Hello," I say to her back. She doesn't hear me or perhaps she is just ignoring me.

"Hello," I say again, a little louder and she turns and sees me.

"Hello," she answers.

"I've seen you before," I say, feeling like a tongue-tied schoolboy.

"Really? Where?"

"The Amsterdam." I see a worried look pass over that pretty face. I mentally kick myself; she goes there to pick up men, you idiot! "Can I buy you a coffee?" I blurt out, trying to rescue the situation. This is the moment; this is make-or-break. If she thinks I am just some pervy weirdo, I'll have blown it for good. I make myself smile. "What would you like?"

Another pause as she looks at me, then she says, "Ok, a cup of builders' tea, please, no sugar."

"Grab a table, and I'll bring it over."

We sit and chat as we drink our tea. After a while, she relaxes, and I find myself telling her everything. The first time I saw her, the man, the other times I saw her, the other men. I cannot believe I am telling her all this; it's bound to scare her off. I even tell her about jacking off in the toilet! That makes her laugh.

With the tea now long finished, I see a look pass across her face that I would come to know well. She has decided, but this is all new to me, so I still don't know how this will end up.

"So what do you hope will happen now?"

"I hope you will lean over and whisper in my ear, like in the pub."

She laughs that easy laugh. "No need for that, come on." She stands up and makes for the door. I follow.

At my place, the afternoon is the best I have ever had. I am so glad I didn't meet her one evening; it would have been over too soon, but lunchtime will give us the whole afternoon and, if I'm lucky, into the night. The sex is incredible. The body I had tried to imagine in the pub is even lovelier than in my fantasies.

After the sex, we talk.

I really like her.

I cum inside her the second time, and she says, "Just to be clear, I don't want a boyfriend."

"Good," I answer. "I don't want a girlfriend."

She laughs, then goes down to take my cock in her mouth until I am hard enough to fuck her again.

Now, with night filling the window panes, we are finally spent. My balls ache and my foreskin is on fire; it'll be days before I'm back in action. She looks cool as a cucumber.

We lie there, curled up together, and I reflect on what she has told me. Number one hundred and eighty-seven; that's me. The one hundred and eighty-seventh man to fuck her. Yet, despite the extraordinary number of lovers, there is something about her. An innocence? Can you be innocent after all that sex? It would seem so. She is honest, open, direct. And funny. Do I mean funny-haha or do I mean funny-peculiar? She makes me laugh, but I settle on funny-peculiar.

"You are an odd one," I say.

"I know," she answers. "People have always told me that; odd or weird."

"Can't you be both?" I laugh.

"It would seem so." We lapse back into comfortable silence.

"You watched me."

"Hmmm?"

"You watched in the pub. Pick up those men."

"Yes."

"You knew what they were going to do to me?"

"Yes."

"Didn't that bother you?"

"No."

"It turned you on," she stated.

"Yes."

"You, sir, are a voyeur."

"Most definitely. And you, m'lady, are an exhibitionist."

"Absolutely!"

"Has anyone ever watched you fuck?"

"No."

"Would you like that?"

A pause.

"I fantasise about it sometimes as I masturbate."

"Another man?"

"Sometimes it is just one man watching, sometimes more."

"Cocks I hand."

She looks at me, surprised. "Actually, now I think about it, no. They just watch."

More silence.

"Would you like to watch me?"

"Yes."

As a writer, I have to now say that the silence stretched on for some time, but it is only silent because we cannot actually hear the sound of the cogs turning; thoughts racing.

"I've got a suggestion." I say.
"You want to watch me fuck."

"No, well yes, but it's more than that."

"Ok, go on."

"You like to pick up men, as your impressive tally shows, but that's pretty dangerous." I see a dark thought flit across her face. Years later, I would hear the truth of what I have just said, but for now, the shadow passes. "How about I come with you?"

"Come with me?"

"Yes, I keep you safe."

"You're saying you'll come with me and watch me have sex with them."

"Yes."

"You want to join in."

"No. I just watch. Make sure you're okay."

"I've said I don't want a boyfriend."

"I'll not be your boyfriend. I don't join in, I don't fuck you afterwards. I won't expect anything from you."

"What do you get out of it?"

"You said it, I'm a voyeur. I get to watch a beautiful woman have sex. Lots of sex."

Again, a silence. I wait.

Finally, she gets up and starts to dress. "I don't think so."

Before I know it, she has gone.

I don't know her name, I don't know her address, I don't know her phone number.

The weeks pass.

I fuck Jenny, I fuck Sandy, I fuck Chloe. I think of her. Always her. Again I fuck Jenny.

In the evenings, I go to the pub and wait.

Nothing.

As time goes on, I feel the presence of the 'Black Dog', its great paws on my shoulders, pressing me down.

I am sitting in the corner of the pub when I hear, "I've been thinking."

It is her.

I hadn't seen her come in. She sits down opposite me at the table and with no preamble starts.

"What you said makes sense, but I want to be clear about a few things."

"Okay."

"I definitely do not want a boyfriend."

"You've made that quite clear."

"Do you want a girlfriend?"

"No."

She sits still for a moment. I watch her face. It's like reading a book of emotions.

"I've slept with five men since."

"I don't doubt it."

"You don't care?"

"I do care, very much."
"You're jealous!"

"No. I care because you put yourself in danger every time you do this. It is not safe. You are not safe."

The pages turn, each emotion writ large as that beautiful woman thinks things through.

"You don't want to sleep with me?"

"Let's just say I am not going to sleep with you. I am going to guard you."
"Very noble, I'm sure." She looks cross now.

"Let me rephrase that, I am going to safeguard you."

"I go out a lot."

"I know. And I will be with you every time. If you want to find a man to fuck, I will be there."

Silence. She chews the inside of her cheek, a nervous habit she still has.

"Won't it put them off? Having you sitting there, watching them."

"Some, maybe, but they're not worth the effort. Trust me, you won't have any trouble finding as many men as you want."

"What if we're in a car?"

"I'll be sitting in the car parked next to you."

She stands up, and without a word walks out of the pub. I sit and sip my beer. Twenty minutes later, she is back.

"Okay, but if I don't like it, we stop."

"If you don't like it, we stop."

She turns to go.

"Hey," I say. She turns back. "I don't know your name." She tells me, and I say, "People call me Bas."

"Bas," she repeats.

"What's your address?"

"Meet me here tomorrow. Eight o'clock."

With that, she is gone. She has always been good at exits.

I finish my pint.

The next night, I sit in a chair in the corner of a bedsit, not far from the station. I watch as the man unzips her dress, then slides the straps off those beautiful shoulders before letting it fall to the floor. She steps out of it and turns to let him unfasten her bra. A shrug of her shoulders, and it falls away; her breasts shine as they catch the light, her nipples are hard. He kisses her, she returns the kiss, but I can tell she's not really into it. He moves his mouth to her breast and licks her nipple before sucking it into his mouth. She moans in pleasure and puts her hand to the back of his head, pressing him to her flesh. His hands move to pull down her panties, and her eyes flick to watch me as he exposes her sex.

She stands there, naked, and lets him explore her with his hands and mouth; squeezing her breasts, stroking her buttocks, then moving his hand between her legs. She moves her stance, opening her legs to expose her cunt to his fingers. His mouth follows, and he cranes his neck to lick her labia. She looks down and watches as his tongue finds her clitoris. Using both hands, she pulls herself open and she once more looks over to me and holds my gaze as she grinds against his mouth. The look is broken as he stands up and starts to take off his shirt. She helps him out of his clothes, kneeling in front of him as she fetches his cock out of his pants before taking him in her mouth. Everything she had done to me, all those weeks ago, she now does to him. Her mouth is full of cock as she looks at me once more, stroking his balls as she sucks; she seems to challenge me.

He moves to the dresser and takes a condom from the drawer. Tearing open the packet, he goes to put it on, but she takes it from him and with practised fingers rolls it over his shaft. He moves her to the bed; she lies down and spreads her legs wide. Her cunt is gaping open, glistening with juice as she waits for his cock. As he moves to enter her, she looks down and watches as he presses into her. But I only watch her face as she is penetrated, a look of pure joy as a new cock is added to her collection. I watch her expression as he fucks her. After a few changes of position, he withdraws. Moving her to all fours, he enters her from behind, grips her hips, and starts pumping into her. She looks at me; she is watching me as I watch her. It is the final straw, and her mouth opens wide as she cums, gasping for air as her cunt is hammered. He quickens his pace and grunts as he reaches his climax. Her breasts sway and bounce beneath her; he pumps her a few more times, but throughout her orgasm, her eyes never leave mine. I watch her as this stranger thrusts into her one more time before he is done. He pulls out, but she holds her position for a few heartbeats as we look at each other.

I stand up and say, "I'll be outside," before walking out the door and making my way to the kitchen. My hands are shaking. My cock is aching once more. I hear them talk, I'm unable to make out the words, as they dress next door.

A few minutes later, she comes through, and I look at her. You just would not know what she's been doing, apart from a slight flush to her cheeks.

"Ready?" I say as I move past her to the stairs. She follows me out to the car.

"I don't know where you live."

She tells me, and I drive her home.

As she moves to get out of the parked car, she turns to me. "If you don't want to, you don't have to come again."

"I want to. I said I would."

"Pick me up here then. Thursday at seven."

"See you then. Seven o'clock."

I fuck Chloe.

Over the following months, I pick her up from her house, take her out, and watch men fuck her. A lot of men. I sit in the car, parked next to her lover's, and watch her bare feet press against the steamy window. I watch her breasts bounce as she rides a stranger, the car rocking with their exertions. I see her head bob up and down until she swallows his load. Mostly, I sit in the corner of the bedroom or the sitting room and watch. I look at her face and read her responses. I see the things she likes most and I register the things she is not so keen on. I don't know I am doing it, but I am collecting a treasury of information about her, all filed away, without me even knowing it.

Mrs B has since told me I have a superpower: reading people. In those houses, flats, and cars, I am reading her until I know her better than anyone alive. All that data, waiting to be used.

I fuck Maggie; a new one.

Sometimes she and I just meet up and talk. We talk for hours, about all sorts of things, but not about what she does with those men.

Things have changed though. We we begin go out more often, she fucks more men. As she fucks and sucks, I notice she now shifts position, subtly, to make sure I get the best view possible. She thinks I want to see the cock as it moves in her cunt, or into her mouth. I do, I am after all a voyeur, but most of all I want to watch her face. Another change is that she looks at me more now, as she has sex, making the guys move so she can see me.

Suits me fine.

Then, one evening, out of the blue, we do talk about it.

"Is it how you expected?" She asks.

"Hmm?"

"Watching me."

"Better; much better."

"You've never tried to join in."

"No."

Silence.

"Do you think about it when you are in your own?"

"You mean, do I wank thinking about you being fucked by strangers? Yes."

A pause.

"Me too."

I look at her.

"I think about you sat there, watching me as I'm with those men."

I raise a quizzical eyebrow.

"But that's not what makes me cum."

My mouth is dry, I sip my pint so I can speak.

"What makes you cum, then?"

"I think of you watching me, the man inside me, then you stand up and walk over to where I am lying. The man carries on; harder, faster. You unzip your flies and pull out your cock. You masturbate as you watch me, then the man cums inside me and you shoot your cum all over my face. Works every time!"
"Wow." I say. "I'll save that one for later!"

I don't see her for well over a week. I am worried. Then, once more she is there, sat opposite me at what has become our table. She looks cross.

"Hello, I say.

"Hi."

A pause.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she snaps.

I wait.

"I've been out on my own. Twice."

I breathe deep. "Okay, was it fun?"

"It was... fine."

"Everything's fine then. You're fine, the sex was fine." I am talking quietly, but inside I am fuming. For fuck's sake, doesn't she realise it's dangerous fucking strangers on her own? "Fortunately, they didn't rape or murder you. So that's also fine." There is definitely an edge to my voice.

She looks up, hearing my tone. "You're angry with me."

"So it would seem."

"For what it's worth, it wasn't the same without you watching."

My stomach lurches. What is up with me?

"Not so fine then."

"No," she retorts, "not so fine. In fact, a bit crap."

She catches my eye and I can't help it, I laugh. She laughs as well. How does she do that?

"You won't do it again?"

"No, definitely not."

The next night I sit in the corner and watch. The mechanics of it all are familiar, but something is different, something has changed.

She watches me as I look at her. Finally, she is on her back as he builds to his grand finale. She looks at me and says in barely a whisper, "Please."

Enough. I walk over to where she lies. The man hesitates.

"Don't stop," we both say at the same time. He resumes, and I take out my cock. The three of us cum together, her clawing his buttocks, him inside her, and me over the face of the woman I now realise I love more than anything in my world. Ropes of my cum streak over her mouth and face. She tongue licks what it can reach, as I squeeze the last few drops into her open mouth.

We drive to her house in silence and park. I hold onto the steering wheel, gripping tight, trying to keep it together.

"Look at me," she says. My head stays bowed. "Look at me."

I look across and see she has tears rolling down her cheek. Even with cum in her hair, she looks like an angel to me.

"I want you to come inside." I have never before set foot in her home. "I still want you to take me out, but please, tonight, I want you to come inside."

I keep looking at her and realise that tears are also rolling down my cheeks.