Handjob Club Pt. 03

(As I have previously told, I was in a group of wives who met each week, and had started giving handjobs to each other's husbands, with each man thinking he was the only one.)

We occasionally brought other girls along to our evenings, such as a visiting relation or someone temporary at work. The only problem was that we had to guard what we said. I suspect they guessed this and didn't usually ask to come back. That is until Delia.

Now don't get me wrong. She was absolutely great. Everybody liked her, a wonderful addition to our little group. Except of course for the HJC which we now could not talk about.

She said "Do any of you have tips about giving handjobs, because I think Simon is getting a bit bored? I'd like to spice it up a bit." There was silence.

"No, no," said Clarissa. "No problem. We were just a bit surprised, that's all. I'm sure the girls here can make some suggestions." So we did, and she smiled weakly as she listened.

Olivia was also in tears. "Sorry, everybody," she sobbed. "I've well and truly fucked up. With you and with her. I'll see her at work tomorrow and try and sort it out, but I'm afraid I've really spoilt things."

Next Wednesday we collected together, not very cheerful until Olivia arrived, smiling, along with Delia. "I've told her about the club, and she thinks it's a great idea."

"Then that's easy," said Emma. "You can swap with Olivia, she's your friend."

"Well," said Clarissa, "I think Fiona has had the fewest cocks of us all. Do you think Simon would like her?"

"He's OK," said Alice, not as strongly as I would have liked, but probably quite accurate.

"With Peter?" I asked.

To persuade Peter to do a favour for a friend took such little effort that it is not worth describing. The fact that I told her Delia was black and pretty may have had something to do with it and also his performance twice that night.

I don't know what she said, but was not surprised to hear that he had agreed to her offer of a one-time handjob by me.

She took off her dress and laid it carefully on a chair back. Then a modest but rather pretty pink slip, and presented herself in white bra and panties. She had no tights. The HJC had decided that it was best if we did not undress completely so that the husband did not expect anything more than the handjob. It was very far from striptease; just a modest woman taking off some of her clothes. However, Peter looked as if his eyes would be coming out on stalks, he appreciated it so much.

"I'm so sorry," he said. "If you could wait, we could try again later, and it would be longer for you," he continued in a voice of pathetic hopefulness. Of course, I had slightly forgotten it was supposed to be a favour to her. Also I had never thought about her doing it twice.

"It's all right," Delia interrupted. "I can wait. It's very kind of you, Peter. Perhaps we could have a cup of tea and relax for a while." She got dressed and sat there innocently, while Peter put on a dressing gown. So this was something new.

Eventually he said "I think I am nearly ready."

She got undressed as before, then said casually "I hope you don't mind," as she took off her bra, and smiled so sweetly at me and then him. Were things getting out of hand? I smiled back, and it was clear that he didn't mind - nobody would. She had the kind of tits best described as cute. Not very large, but perfectly shaped, with nice firm nipples.

"Thank you so much," they both said at almost the same time, and we all chuckled.

When Delia related Simon's comments, Clarissa said "He's right of course. Fiona has great boobs. Any man would want to come on them," and the others nodded in agreement, which gave me a little thrill. Delia also described very well what had happened and was open about her own enjoyment. We were so pleased for her, but all agreed that it would be a one-off.

"For heaven's sake, woman!" he said. "Take your bra off!" and I meekly complied. He let out a satisfied grunt which I admit pleased me. He reached forward and Delia slapped his hand. "That's not allowed!" she said, and he meekly complied, which tells you something about their marriage.

Then he started panting and was clearly about to come. I was wondering whether it would be thick or thin when he grunted "I'm going to come on your tits!" grabbed his cock and pushed it onto my chest where he proceeded to fulfil his promise. If he had already relieved himself earlier, then there was quite a lot. I am sure Peter would never deliver so much the second time. He spurted several times, and it was quite thick. I unconsciously rubbed it in, feeling satisfaction - flattered, I suppose - that I had caused a man to lust in this way. Peter was definitely going to do this next time.

"That was wonderful," he said, "and you're a lovely lady. I really think you ought to encourage your husband. Please do try to get him to come on you. I am sure he will like it." I thought I would.

"I know this is just one time, so I probably won't see you again. I do hope it was good for you, and I hope things improve with your husband. If they do, perhaps we could all meet up some time. I won't say anything, of course." I was fairly stunned but managed something like "Yes, that'd be nice some time."


It was Olivia's fault. She brought Delia along, a new girl at her work. Delia loved it, and said "You do this every Wednesday? Great, I'll look forward to it." And she did.

Then she mentioned the H word and the fact that she was black. And she was, not a bit dusky, properly black, and rather pretty. We white girls all knew that our husbands would appreciate her. And we wondered what her husband was like in very particular respect.

"Oh," she said. "I'm sorry if I offended you. I just thought we were all married women together, and with some of the other things you said... I should leave." And she was trying not to cry.

At length she remarked "Of course, what he really wants is a white woman." We were not only silent, but holding our breath. "Oh God! I've done it again. You'll think I'm a terrible person, but it's well known, isn't it? Black men want to have sex with white women; white men want to have sex with black women. Oh that is so racist, I didn't mean all men, I...er." And she got up crying, and left, despite our efforts to stop her.

The meeting finished in gloom, and Clarissa said "Let's agree that the guys are getting no service this week. We should all have a think and discuss matters next Wednesday."

"Yes," said Delia with a big grin. "No wonder you were surprised. I sorry I misunderstood, but I'm in if you'll have me. Simon can be jacked off by white woman, and I wouldn't mind holding a white dick for a change."

"Oh no," said Delia quickly. "I see Olivia every day at work: I don't want to see her with my husband."

Delia looked me up and down. "Oh yes, with those tits, definitely. I hope your husband's a bit of all right."

"And I wouldn't mind a go some time," added Emma.

"Oh, well him too. But I meant pulling a black cock, obviously." The others seemed to agree. I don't think we were racist, just shallow.

But we had to go through our own little theatre. I went round to her house and met Simon and their son, a lovely little boy. I had a low-cut dress and as I bent down to talk to him, I made sure Simon could see well down into my bosom. Apparently, when he was later told that my husband didn't like handjobs, he snorted that he must be an idiot not to want to come on tits like those. Which was something I hadn't considered. He was a little shorter than average but didn't have a belly and was overall pleasant both in appearance and in behaviour. In a different life I would have been glad to have him as a boyfriend at least.

We decide not to do both deeds on one evening. Delia came round first. She was a bit like Clarissa - not spectacular in any way, but it all went together so well. She looked a picture in a modest print dress she could have worn to church. We had told her what to do, and she made the usual speech about a thankful woman, and he acted the reluctant gallant.

He sat on the bed and she applied some lube then we all watched her little black hand moving up and down his straining cock. It must have been less than a minute before he erupted, going "Oh fuck!" in what I think was a mixture of pleasure and exasperation. He was mortified and we were sympathetic.

"No, I think we have to be going," I said briskly. "We..."

So we did have a cup of tea and a very pleasant chat. Peter told her about his job (which I always find boring) and she expressed interest. Probably not real, but she was very polite. Men usually think a good conversation with a woman is where they tell you about themselves.

"No," she said firmly. "We will wait till you are good and ready." It must have been an hour and a half before she allowed him, and he was good and ready.

This occasion she had more time to vary her technique: one hand, two hands, up and down, twisting and so on. I appreciated her body as a work of art and enjoyed the contrast of their two colours as she manipulated him. It was a good while before three people achieved satisfaction in different ways. And I mean it was quite a while and it was good throughout.

So that was a new experience, though not how we had planned. I was looking forward to my turn, though getting a little worried. However, before then we had the club meeting, where they wanted to know all the details.

My experience was also not what I planned, though in different ways. Simon was, I suppose, somewhat more masterful, which I rather liked. I was in my bra and panties and he was sitting on the bed, erect in both his pose and his organ, and I got my first look and feel of a black cock. It was bigger than Peter's, about the same size as Clarissa's husband, but not mushroom shaped and with a foreskin. I think it may have been a tiny bit thicker in my hand. It looked and felt wonderful.

He must have tossed himself off earlier (smarter than Peter) as he seemed in no hurry to come. Which was fine for me, as I got to luxuriate in the feelings both emotional and physical - and of course sexual. I was glad I had been smart enough to wear a pad in my panties, or they would have been embarrassingly wet. I had enough time to consider and decided that I liked having the foreskin, and the way the knob peeked in and out as I moved the skin up and down.

I had a momentary fear that he was going to say something like "You're my bitch now!" as you get on the internet, but he was quite charming.

Turning to Delia, he said "And you, my darling wife! How can I thank you enough? I've had my fantasy at last, and I'm satisfied." They kissed lovingly, and he turned back to me.