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My Days as a Swim Coach Pt. 08

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Staying inside my Honda overnight, without knowing what Laurent was up to with my drunk fiancée, was one of the hardest things I ever had to do. I was up at first light, waiting for the text inviting me to return to my room. Finally, at almost 8am, Irene messaged me saying that the coast was clear, and I rushed back to my rented accommodation.

To my relief, Irene was alone, and seemed to be none the worse for wear from her night out. She was lying on my bed, wearing just a silky babydoll and matching panties. As she sat up to kiss me, I noticed that she was also wearing a very feminine silk hair accessory in her long reddish hair. She winced with pain as she sat up, and immediately laid back on her side. I sat next to her and put my arm on her shoulder.

“Are you okay, Irene?” I asked, nervously awaiting her answer.

“I am sorry, baby,” she said quietly, guilt written all over her face.

“What happened last night?” I asked, once I realized that she was okay.

“Laurent left you something in the bathroom,” she replied, unable to look me in the eye.

As I entered my bathroom, I was greeted with the overwhelming aroma of the Prive Rose, and my cock stiffened involuntarily at the mere scent of the twins. There was a pair of panties on the bathroom counter, a Manila envelope, and an unwrapped condom. As I got closer to the counter, I observed a large pool of semen in the crotch of the silky intimates, evidence that Laurent had ejaculated inside one of the three of them. I couldn’t tell who the panties belonged to, although I knew Irene had left my place without any underwear on, acting on Laurent’s orders.

I knew that Laurent enjoyed messing with me, so it occurred to me that he could have made the girls swap underwear, or maybe he even jerked off into the panties to get my head spinning. My eyes drifted over to the condom, that had already been removed from its protective packaging. Once I gave it a closer look, I realized that it had already been used, and the open end had been tied into a knot, to keep the milky white contents inside of it. I picked it up between my thumb and forefinger, the weight of the copious load within it, causing it to stretch and elongate.

As the used prophylactic hung from my fingertips, I noticed red lipstick on the tip of the condom, which suggested that Laurent had enjoyed a protected blow-job. Quite why he felt compelled to wear a condom while enjoying Irene and the twins escaped me, as I had witnessed him having unprotected penetrative or oral sex with all three of them, in one form or another.

It was just like Laurent to leave a bunch of cryptic clues as to the events of last night, and leave me to figure it out. However, it was eating me alive trying to gauge what he had taken from Irene, so I played along with his little game. As I rotated the swollen condom, I noticed some more red lipstick marks on the shaft of it, and realized that they were a slightly different shade than the traces on the tip. So, at least two of them had put their lips on his condom-covered cock, it appeared. I just couldn’t figure out exactly what type of sexual activity would require a condom, yet leave two of the girls free to put their glossed lips on his cock.

It was with shaky hands that I opened the Manila envelope, certain that it contained pictorial evidence of Laurent’s latest conquest. As I upturned the envelope, several photos fell out, featuring the three girls, as I had feared. The first picture showed the three of them kneeling together, looking up at the camera, smiling agreeably as they awaited his instructions. The twins had freshly shaved pussies, but Irene was showing signs of her one-week growth, evidence of her defiance as she sought to restore her pubic hair back to the neatly-groomed tuft, that we both favored.

Presumably Laurent was fine with it, which made sense as he was European. I think he had only shaved my fiancée to prove that he could take such liberties, and to accommodate Chad’s American tastes. Either way, I was happy to see her on the road to being groomed the way I preferred.

In the next picture, the three of them were blowing Laurent a kiss, which drew my attention to their slightly different lipgloss shades. I picked up the used condom in one hand, and the second photo in my other hand, and managed to establish, without doubt, that the two shades of red lipgloss on the condom, belonged to the twins. While it gave me a measure of solace to know that Irene’s lips hadn’t been pleasuring that French prick, it did beg the question what was she doing during his two-girl blowjob?

My heart sank as I picked up the third photo, getting the answer to my question, gümüşhane seks hikayeleri and instantly wishing that I hadn’t. In this picture, Irene was on all fours, in the doggy-style position, looking nervously over her shoulder, her eyes glazed over from the effects of the alcohol. Erica and Jessica were kneeling before Laurent as he stood behind Irene. Erica was nibbling the shaft of his condom-covered cock, while Jessica was blowing him, their respective shades of lipgloss, matched up exactly to the red traces on the used condom.

The next picture showed Laurent kneeling behind my fiancée, as Erica lined the tip of his cock up with her virginal opening. Someone had applied a significant amount of lubricant to the tip of the condom. I smiled as I realized that, in a continued show of defiance, Irene had refused to self-lubricate to accommodate this man in his attempt to deflower her. The twins had repeatedly assured me that Irene would remain a virgin until our wedding day, and so I took this as a personal slight that they were assisting Laurent, as he prepared to take my fiancée’s cherry.

At her age, Irene certainly had some female friends who were no longer virgins, so her look of palpable concern as Laurent started to ease inside her, confused me. Surely, at some point she had discussed the mechanics of penetrative sex with one of her more experienced friends, and been assured that it was a relatively painless event. As I pored over the photo, digesting every minor detail, it occurred to me that Laurent had taken another one of Irene’s firsts from me.

In the next shot, the photographer had moved, taking this photo from directly above the soon to coupled sex partners. From this angle, I looked down on Laurent’s washboard abs, flexing as he struggled to force his way inside my fiancée. Erica’s beautifully manicured nails were visible as she rested her hand on Irene’s ass, her job done as the tip of Laurent’s cock was now inside my fiancée, albeit only a couple of inches deep. From this angle I could only see Irene’s back and ass, but she was fighting him all the way, as evidenced by the muscles in her back that were flexing.

I had never taken a woman in this position before, and wasn’t one hundred percent sure of the exact placement of the vagina, once a female was inverted and crouched like a dog. However, it did seem that Laurent’s cock was positioned way too high for vaginal sex. As I picked up the next photo, taken from behind Laurent’s shoulder, it suddenly all fell into place. Irene had a pained look on her face as she looked back at him, the likes of which I had only seen when women were giving birth. Her eyes were wide open, telegraphing the combination of pain and fear, while the rest of her face was contorted into a grimace. Her back was still tensed as if she was struggling to accommodate him.

I heard her at the doorway of my bathroom, at the exact moment that I realized that Laurent had fucked my fiancée’s ass, not her pussy.

“Irene,” I said in shock, turning to face her with the photo in my hand. “Did Laurent fuck your ass?”

I never got a verbal confirmation, but watching her eyes drop to the ground with shame, was answer enough.

“I am so sorry, Oscar,” she said quietly, as she struggled to suppress her tears. “I never meant this to happen. I love you. It’s just that Laurent never takes no for an answer.”

“Are you okay, baby?” I asked, trying to focus on what was important right now. “Does it hurt?”

“I can’t sit down or lie on my back,” my fiancée informed me. “That is why I was on my side. Did you read the note from the twins?”

I turned away from her dejectedly, still trying to process the fact that another man had taken my fiancée’s anal cherry. There were two more photos on the countertop. One showed Laurent withdrawing from Irene’s anal passage, the condom swollen with his copious load. Erica’s dainty hand was holding the open end of it tight to his cock, so that it didn’t get pulled off, as he withdrew from the tight hole.

The last photo showed the three girls back on their knees, smiling broadly as they looked up at the camera. They were still butt-naked, although they had touched up their lipgloss, to make themselves presentable for the photo opportunity. Irene was in the middle, her left hand raised just above her head, holding the used prophylactic. It had been tied at the open end, and hung lewdly down the side of her face, the contrasting shades of red lipstick clearly visible on it.

Erica was kneeling to the right of my fiancée, a huge smile on her beautiful face, and giving a very enthusiastic thumbs-up to the camera. She was holding a piece of paper upon which she had hand-written, “Irene, still a virgin!”

Jessica was kneeling on the other side of the love of my life, holding my KY lubricant up to the camera. The plastic bottle was inverted with the lid flipped open, the inference being that they had used the rest of the lube preparing my fiancée to accommodate Laurent’s cock in her ass.

There was a handwritten note in with the photos, but in my dejected state, I couldn’t bring myself to read it.

“Read it, Oscar,” Irene said quietly. “It’s good news.”

I picked up the note, but couldn’t focus as the reality of what had occurred last night sank in. Irene took it from my trembling hand, and began to read it.

“Hi Oscar,” she began, her voice shaky and unsure. “We used all of your lube getting Laurent prepped to take Irene’s anal cherry. The good news is, that she is still a virgin as promised, and we intend to keep her that way until your wedding day. In other good news, we have decided to allow you a release this morning, eight days earlier than your thirty day schedule. Enjoy!”

While the prospect of release was fantastic news, what I wanted was some kind of physical encounter with my wife. I think she felt guilty about losing her anal cherry to that French prick, because she sidled up next to me, and put her lips on my ear.

“Would you like me to give you a hand-job, Oscar?” she asked seductively.

It had been a little over three weeks since my last orgasm, so I was grateful for any kind of help from Irene. I nodded my head enthusiastically, and she upped the ante.

“You have been a very good boy,” she told me. “As a reward, you can blow your load on my stomach.”

My cock stiffened at that prospect, and Irene lay on her back on the bed, and invited me to kneel between her legs. Once I was in position, she reached over and started to slowly jerk me off. Unfortunately for me, after just a couple of minutes she had to stop, the pain in her anus making it too uncomfortable for her to lay on her back.

“I am sorry, Oscar,” she said sincerely. “Laurent really did a number on me. How about we stand by the bathroom counter and I will help you get off?”

Once we got into the bathroom, I was starting to lose my erection. I desperately wanted to come, but the thought that another man had left my fiancée’s virginity intact, but had enjoyed her in every other conceivable way, was messing with my head. She couldn’t even lay on her back, for fuck’s sake. Irene tried to make it enjoyable for me, but by the time I was fully erect, we realized that we had no lubricant.

I had never tried to jerk off without some kind of lubrication, and as she began to stroke my cock with her dry hands, I knew I was not going to be able to come.

“Irene,” I whispered desperately, “do you have anything we can use for lube?”

I was hoping that she was going to offer me a blowjob, the presumption being that her saliva would act as the perfect lubrication. However, she had other ideas, and retrieved the empty bottle of KY lube that Laurent had used to prepare her for anal sex. Irene removed the silk hair accessory from her long reddish locks, and using the safety pin that held it in place, pierced a small hole in the end of the used condom, lying on my bathroom countertop. Holding the condom above the empty KY bottle, she gave it a squeeze, and Laurent’s milky-white ejaculate began to drip into the container.

“No,” I began, in protest. “I am not using another man’s semen as lube.”

“You don’t have to touch it, Oscar,” she said reassuringly. “I will do all the work. You can just relax and enjoy.”

Even though the thought of it was revolting, it had been three weeks for me, and the last few weeks had conditioned me to take my releases whenever they were offered. I reluctantly nodded my head, and Irene patted me gently on the ass.

“Good boy, Oscar,” she said patronizingly. “Which picture do you want to blow your load on?”

“Excuse me?” I stammered, unsure how much the twins had shared with her.

Unfortunately for me, the twins had told Irene all about the eleven by fourteen laminated photos they used to leave for me, when they were trying to entrap me.

“It’s okay, Oscar,” she said sweetly. “All men have fantasies. Some of them, like Laurent and Chad, even get to fulfill them,” she added with a giggle.

As Irene squeezed the last traces of Laurent’s semen out of the used condom, she pressed me again on my preferred visual stimulation.

“Which photo, Oscar?” she teased. “You have some great ones to choose from.”

As I perused the six photos lying on the counter, Irene snapped the top of the plastic bottle shut, and briefly left the room. When she returned she had the photo frame that had been on my bedside table. Originally, it had contained a lovely picture of Irene in the doorway of our Church, wearing her best dress. Now however, it showcased a picture of Irene on her knees looking up at the camera with an innocent smile, as she sucked on Laurent’s thumb.

“You can jerk off to this one if you prefer,” she offered.

While I found that picture titillating, particularly because Erica was visible sucking the tip of Laurent’s cock, I had saved my favorite shot of Irene, as the background for my phone. I didn’t know how to bring it up, but Irene beat me to the punch.

“You know, Oscar,” she began as if she were talking to a child. “One thing being with Laurent has taught me, is not to waste opportunities. The twins have generously allowed you an early release. If you have something that will enhance it for you, let me know. It will be thirty days before you get to come again.”

“There is something,” I stammered, unable to finish my sentence.

“What is it, baby?” she cooed. “A photo? A pair of the twins’ panties?”

I had been erect the entire time Irene had been teasing me, and I was in desperate need of an orgasm. As difficult as it was to verbalize my desires, I finally blurted it out.

“A photo. My iPhone background.”

“Of course, silly,” she said sweetly. “Let me get my laptop.”

Irene went and retrieved her laptop, set it up in my bathroom, and moments later I streamed my favorite photo of my girlfriend to her computer. After the picture of her stood with her hands by her side, and her legs spread wide apart, was displayed on her laptop, she removed her clothes, and adopted the same position in front of the mirror.

The main difference between the two photos was her pubic hair. Freshly-shaved by the twins in the first photo, she now was showing signs of pubic hair growth, that meant hopefully she would soon be restored to the way I liked her, with her neatly-groomed tuft. The only other noticeable difference was her level of arousal. In the first picture her inner-thighs and labia were coated with her vaginal secretions. However, as she stood naked before me she was bone-dry, my physical proximity to her, doing nothing to excite her.

It annoyed me that she would get more excited for Laurent than for me. That she would cream her panties more for him. That her nipples would be larger, more erect in his presence. It also got me hard, just thinking about it.

“Are you ready, Oscar?” Irene asked, breaking her pose.

I nodded quietly, my desire to come overwhelming my shame that my fiancée was going to jerk me off using another man’s semen as lubricant. Irene, picked up the KY bottle, inverted it, and poured some of Laurent’s semen onto the tips of her fingers. As soon as she touched my cock, I jumped in anticipation.

“Someone’s horny,” she teased.

I wish I could say that I lasted several minutes under Irene’s tender touch. However, as she rubbed Laurent’s ejaculate into my cock-head, my thoughts turned to how she had extracted that make-shift lube from his nut-sack.

“Did it hurt?” I asked again, wanting to know every detail, as I got closer to my release.

“Laurent said it will hurt less and less each week,” she taunted, alluding to the fact that her French lover had found his new favorite way to come.

Laurent ended up fucking Irene’s ass every single weekend. He usually did it on Friday night, so that it wasn’t so sore by the time she drove home on Sunday afternoon. He continued her sex education until the twins graduated, at which time they handed me all the evidence they had against me, and let me off the hook.

Amazingly enough, Laurent and the twins kept their promise to allow Irene to remain a virgin until our wedding day, although he enjoyed her in every other conceivable way. We got married in our Church, and though he wasn’t invited, Laurent showed up to the ceremony. I was scared that he was going to object to the wedding at the point when they ask the question. However, he postponed ruining my big day until I knelt before Irene to remove her garter, and toss it over my shoulder.

As I slipped my hands under her bridal gown, I felt it before I saw it. Large globs of his semen coating her inner-thighs as it dripped from her gaping pussy. Luckily there was no trace of his ejaculate on my wife’s garter, as I removed it and tossed it into the gaggle of women, wanting to catch it.

“You promised, you fucking asshole,” I seethed at him, as he hovered around, trying to weasel his way into the wedding photos.

“I promised Irene would remain virtuous until her wedding day,” he said smugly. “And I kept that promise, Oscar. I didn’t fuck her until right before your ceremony.”

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