Chapter 8

The four young, lusty fuckers and fuckwatchers in Mike’s car were not the only voyeurs at that drive-in movie. The place was a notorious passion pit, where few couples ever watched a film.

Most of the customers were young courting couples, often in Daddy’s borrowed car, getting to know each other in various ways. Too young or shy to rent a hotel room, these randy youngsters found the drive-in a handy place to fuck. They had the privacy of their cars, and they didn’t have to worry about being interrupted by the cops, as they did if they parked in a lover’s lane or a dark street.

So, kids came there to fuck and often never even knew what film was showing, going into a passionate embrace as soon as the lights went off and interrupting the session only to go to the refreshment stand and gulp down some Coke to replenish their vital body fluids. But not everyone was that sort. Some had come to watch. But not the film...

Directly behind Mike’s car there was a new Eldorado, polished and gleaming in the reflected light from the screen. In the Eldorado sat Homer Wright and his wife, Thelma. The Wrights were hardly typical of the usual patrons of that drive-in. They were wealthy, for one thing, they were legally married and had a bed of their own and, although not old, they were not young ... simply middle-aged.

They were similar in one way.

They were horny.

Homer was slightly overweight and wore steel-rimmed spectacles. He had his own business, which was a huge success, and a prick, which was also huge.

Thelma was blonde and expensively suntanned from frequent trips to Florida or the Bahamas. She was almost forty years old, but well preserved. She had a classical hour-glass figure, tiny waist, flaring hips and a huge set of tits that loomed out without needing the support of a bra. She liked to dress provocatively and she liked to give men suggestive looks. She always wore a garter belt and stockings, and she usually wore her skirts short enough so that she could easily give passing strangers a good look at her thighs.

Frequently, she gave those passing strangers more than a passing glance, as well.

Homer knew about these affairs. He didn’t mind at all.

Not as long as he could watch...

Homer and Thelma had a happy marriage, partly because he had such a big prick and partly because he was so tolerant about letting Thelma have other pricks. They had been married for fifteen years, and they still fucked with all the gusto of newlyweds, when they were alone together, but often they were not alone.

It had started on their honeymoon.

On the third day after their wedding, Thelma had gotten a bit drunk in the hotel bar and had begun to flirt with a strange man. The man had been receptive—although, to his credit, it must be said that he had no idea that she was a newly married bride, or that her husband was watching them farther down the bar.

Then, after a while, Thelma realized, through a misty drunken haze, what she was doing. She blushed and became embarrassed. Homer was already a wealthy man at that time, and Thelma, who had been a showgirl, did not want to risk losing him for the sake of a brief encounter. She had excused herself and gone down to where Homer was seated, drinking brandy and looking amused.

“Gee, honey—I’m sorry,” she told him. “I guess I was flirting with that guy. I must—” she giggled merrily, “—I must have forgotten that I was married now—and faithful.”

To her surprise, Homer had looked disappointed.

“I thought you wanted to fuck him,” he said.

“Aw, honey! I wouldn’t cheat on you!” Thelma protested. At least not if you knew about it, she said to herself.

But Homer grinned and said, “I wouldn’t mind.”

“Huh?”

“Honey—there’s something you ought to know about me,” Homer told her—and then he had told her what it was.

Thelma was shocked.

Then she had considered the possibilities and she had grinned and become delighted.

Thelma had always been a promiscuous girl. She liked to be promiscuous.

She had intended to continue her promiscuity, despite being married, but she had supposed that it would have to be secretive and discreet and that she would have to be careful that her husband never found out about her affairs.

She was overjoyed to discover that Homer didn’t mind what she did—in fact, he welcomed her misbehavior.

He looked on it with approval.

As long as he could look on with his eyes.

As he did, that first time, on their honeymoon.

The stranger with whom Thelma had been flirting was happy to be invited to the sexy blonde’s room, but he was surprised that she had invited some other guy named Homer. Still, he wasn’t going to pass up a crack at Thelma, who was truly a gorgeous girl.

The three of them had gone upstairs together, with a bottle of brandy, two rising erections and a hot cunt between them.

Thelma had stripped off as soon as they got to the room, doing it as slowly and as provocatively as a striptease artist.

The stranger, whose name was Joe, was a polite sort of fellow.

He offered to flip a coin with Homer to see which of them fucked the blonde first. But, Homer insisted that Joe fuck her first, which suited Joe—and Homer, as well.

Thelma lay on the bed. Homer drew up a chair and sat beside the bed, just like an interested spectator at any sporting event. He took his cock out and held it.

When Joe got a look at the size of Homer’s cock, he was mightily pleased to go first, for he figured that once that monster had been up a cunt, a normal-sized prick would get no friction at all. His own prick was average-sized—hardly a drop in the bucket compared to Homer’s cock.

Joe got on the bed with Thelma.

She lived up to his expectations.

First she sucked his cock for a while. Then he fucked her. Her cunt was like a magic squeezebox, pulling the cum out of him. Homer regarded the action with great interest and, as they neared a climax, he stood up and gave his mighty prick a few fast jerks and sprayed a load of jism onto Thelma’s face as she gyrated under Joe.

Despite that manual masturbation, Homer’s cock remained as big and hard as ever—as if a cock of that size held bottomless depths of spunk, and a single ejaculation would not be enough.