We were on a Memorial Day weekend flight to Indianapolis for the race (do I have to tell you which race?), having been given the tickets for the flight and the race just two days before.

They came from my sister’s boyfriend Seth — they couldn’t go because of an emergency.

In casual in-flight conversation I reminded Erin that (for reasons too complicated to go into here) I never got a gift for my last birthday. She apologized and asked what a man who has everything could ever want as a re ward for the huge feat of completing 45 years on earth.

As it happened, the previous year before Erin had given me the best gift ever: our first visit to a swingers’ club. So, brushing off her sarcasm, I loaded my voice with all the sexual innuendo I could and said, “I’m not looking for anything store-bought. I’ll bet if you use your imagination you could think of something.”

She smirked and went back to reading the in-flight magazine. Taking the high road, I switched my attention to the race. I was really excited, having never been to an Indy 500. Seth had told us that two of his coworkers on a local race team would be on the same flight, and that we four would be staying at the home of his friend Stan, who was heavily involved in the Indy racing scene.

At one point I went to the rest room in the back of the plane and on returning found Erin talking with a guy across the aisle from us. He was in fact one of Seth’s coworkers, Raymond. Having heard us mention Seth’s name, he introduced himself to Erin, and now introduced Seth’s other coworker, Patrick. Both guys were mid to late 20s and very good-looking, and seemed nice. Erin bought the four of us drinks and, ever generous, invited the guys to share our rental car. They thanked her but said that Stan, the guy whose house we were staying at, was picking them up at the airport.

It didn’t take long for the drinks to start affecting Erin. She becomes gregarious to the point of being flirtatious, which pleases rather than disturbs me. Her interest was heightened by the fact that Raymond, a light-complexioned black guy, had what she would later call “mesmerizing green eyes,” and Patrick, a tall, tanned blond, had what she calls “the classic beach-bum look,” which she’s a sucker for.

When Erin got up to go to the rest room, the guys checked her out head to toe. If she hadn’t already been showing enough skin, she returned with her low-cut red top showing even more of her generous tits and her short, tight white miniskirt, pulled up so high that it barely covered her pantiless ass. This had me thinking, “Maybe we have something here!” And as conversation continued, I saw from the way the guys stole glances at Erin’s tits whenever she looked away that they were enjoying more than her friendly demeanor.

When we landed, both guys jumped up to help Erin pull her carry-on down. Out of recognition for their kindness — and for the hots they were showing for my wife — I let them follow her off the plane, expecting that she’d be swaying her bubble butt even more than usual.

Inside the terminal the guys hurried over to a guy we assumed was Stan. They introduced us to him, and while he shook my hand he stared at Erin and whispered, “Ohmygosh, what have we here?” Erin extended her hand to Stan, but, not content with a handshake, he wrapped his huge guns around her and gave her a bear hug. He was sporting a racing T-shirt with the sleeves cut off to show off his highly muscular physique, with heavily tattooed bodybuilder-type arms. Despite Erin’s efforts to remain nonchalant, I knew she was checking out Stan’s package every time she could. I couldn’t help but think things might get interesting this weekend!

Stan insisted that I ditch the rental car, but I insisted that I still wanted it. I have a thing about always having a car when we travel so I can go where I want, when I want. But we happily accepted his offer of a lift to the car-rental office and piled into his SUV. Stan insisted “the lady” ride shotgun, so Raymond, Patrick and I hopped in back.

When we arrived, Stan started rattling off directions for getting to his house. I was so busy wondering why he didn’t just wait and let me follow him that I really didn’t get any of the half-dozen or more street and turn instructions. Nevertheless, when he said, “Got it?” I reflexively replied, “Yup, got it,” as I climbed out of the SUV. I stood on the sidewalk waiting for Erin to get out, until finally her window went down and Stan called out that she wanted to ride with him. I noticed that he was holding onto her forearm. She just smiled and shrugged. Next thing I knew, Stan was driving off!

I picked up the rental car, but with all those directions swimming around my head — highway numbers and street names, left turns and right turns — I quickly got lost. I called Erin’s cell phone and got no answer. No great surprise, as Stan had had AC/DC tunes blasting out during the earlier part of the ride.

It was approaching eight o’clock now and dark, so I called my sister, hoping Seth was around and might be able to direct me to Stan’s over the phone. No answer. I tried to backtrack to the rental-car place but now couldn’t find it either. Here I was, lost in a town I’d never been to, while my wife had ridden off with three guys we’d just met!

Around 11 Seth returned my voice mail. I described where I thought I was, but he had no idea. He said he’d call and text Stan. Another 45 minutes and still nothing from Stan or Erin — she the person who always asked, “Where are you?” when I ran late.

Finally, close to midnight, the phone rang. It was Stan, with loud sounds of Guns N’ Roses’ “Sweet Child O’ Mine” in the background. I couldn’t help wondering what that sweet wife o’ mine was up to! Stan gave me directions, and said when I arrived at his house, which would be about half past midnight, to walk right in and downstairs to his basement man cave.

I did, and there on a bar stool sat the love of my life with Stan running his finger in her cleavage. They had eyes only for each other, and with Raymond and Patrick absorbed in a game of pool, no one even noticed my arrival. So I backed up behind a wall and decided to watch what developed.

Erin had changed clothes. My eyes bulged at the sight of her in a very low-cut, sheer white tank top. The half of her tits that wasn’t bubbling over was clearly visible through the thin cloth, including her large areolae and hard nipples. The pleated black micro-miniskirt she was wearing covered nothing as Stan, standing between her legs, pushed forward. He whispered something in her ear, and she began rubbing his cock aggressively through his wispy running shorts. With her other arm she pulled his head to hers and began to make out intensely.

Stan placed his hand on my wife’s pussy and began finger-fucking her! Since she’s a quick, and frequent, comer, I thought she would erupt at any time. Instead, she whispered in Stan’s ear, and he pulled her off the stool and led her toward the stairs, with me right in their path! They stopped dead in their tracks when they saw me standing there.

Erin dropped Stan’s hand, put on the best smile she could in her drunken state and walked toward me casually, her voluminous boobs bouncing in unison. She reached for my hand and in her sexiest voice said, “Let’s dance, hon.” As we clutched each other and slow-danced to the Commodores’“Three Times A Lady,” I thought of crooning, “You’re once, twice three times my little slut wife,” but I resisted.

“So, honey,” she whispered near my ear, “you still want that birthday gift you’ve been bitching about?”

“Damn right I do,” I said.

Some disco song began to play, and I realized that our three new friends were about to see my sexy wife, who I could have sworn was a stripper the first time we danced, put on a show. As I swung her from one end of the makeshift dance floor to the other, her short skirt flared up, exposing her beautifully tanned legs, with glimpses of her big, well-rounded ass.

The guys stared at her melons bouncing with every movement. Raymond was unabashedly rubbing his cock, shaking his head as if he couldn’t wait to pounce on her goods. But when the song ended, she yelled out, “G’night, guys,” and pulled me toward the stairs. As I trailed behind her, contemplating her amazing ass, I couldn’t help but consider that if I hadn’t arrived when I did, her companion for this climb up the stairs would have been Stan, headed for some private place to fuck. Instead, she was to be mine, at least tonight.

Upstairs, as my buzzed wife led me down the hall she explained that generous Stan had invited us to use the master bedroom throughout our three-day stay. Entering the room, I beheld a bachelor pad on steroids: a circular bed with a mirrored ceiling over it, animal-print décor, a huge TV attached to the wall with a dresser underneath which was strewn with X-rated DVDs.

Erin went in the bathroom to shower, and I explored the room further, then walked through a sliding glass door onto a deck that extended the length of the back of the house. Reentering, I noticed the clothes Erin had worn on the plane sticking out from under the bed on the floor! I picked them up, and balled up with her things found the T-shirt Stan had been wearing when he picked us up. So they had already had a fuck session!

I stripped and headed toward the shower, with my swollen cock leading the way. I didn’t speak a word as I joined my slut wife in the shower. After a long kiss, she went down into a crouch and sucked my cock like there was no tomorrow. But as good as it felt, I wanted to come in her pussy, so I lifted her to her feet and turned her around. She began her usual little dance where she rotates her ass slowly on my cock before I plow in. I came within a minute.

Erin remained in the shower while I climbed out and went back in the bedroom. My first impulse was to draw the shades of the large windows in the room, but I figured what the hell! Given my wife’s exhibitionist tendencies and preference for living life on the edge, she’d probably prefer the curtains open.

I got in bed and waited, thinking of my wife’s voluptuous naked body as she climbed in next to me. But before that happened, I fell asleep. So ended our first day in Indianapolis.

When I awoke, in mid-morning, I found Erin in the bathroom, standing at the sink putting on her makeup, wearing an animal-print negligee I didn’t recognize — yet another surprise! I walked over and gave her a kiss, then went in the adjoining room that housed the toilet and shower. While I sat doing my business, I heard a male voice, then made out Erin whispering, “My husband’s in there.” I decided to sit and listen. I heard movement I couldn’t make out, until Stan said in a low voice, “Stand up and turn around, baby.” I was stunned, knowing that they both knew that the lady’s husband was just on the other side of the door!

First I heard him tell her softly to suck his cock, followed by appropriate cocksucking sound effects. Then I thought I made out his voice saying he was going to fuck her from behind, and for as much as they seemed to try to keep quiet, the pounding could totally be distinguished. After three or four minutes, their breathing grew really loud, and finally I heard my wife’s signature moan as, presumably, she underwent a major orgasm.

Now I turned the shower on, thinking this would give them a cue to continue their hot fuck session while I was in the shower. Almost as soon as the water could be heard, the sound of objects falling on the floor on the other side of the door gave me a vision of Stan lifting my wife onto the sink so he could plow into her while she threw her legs over his shoulders to ensure that his cock drove in her pussy.

As you’ve undoubtedly guessed, I didn’t get in the shower. Putting my ear up against the door, I heard my wife almost shouting, “Oh Stan, fuck me hard!” The slapping sounds sped up considerably, and Erin kept shouting, “Oh yes, don’t stop! Fuck me harder!” Then came the ultimate screams of her coming.

I figured I had allowed Erin to have enough for now, so I turned off the shower, then waited a few minutes and opened the door on a somewhat comical scene. My wife had resumed putting on her makeup despite the fact that her face and body were dripping with sweat. (I had no doubt that her pussy was also dripping with come.)

Stan stood waiting for me to come out so he could jump in the shower. “Hey, dude,” he said, “I only have this one shower that works.”

I said, “No problem, man,” kissed my wife’s sweaty neck and walked over to my suitcase so I could get dressed.

This was race day, and Stan left for the track before the rest of us. Neither Erin nor I said anything about that morning’s sex program.

The day’s festivities were awesome. We were provided with pit passes, and with yours truly volunteering to be the designated driver, Erin and the guys were freed to drink it up. And boy, did they! At one point the three of them got up from their seats saying they’d be back in a bit — and didn’t return for over an hour! When they did return, Erin, instead of sitting next to me, sat between Raymond and Patrick. They had all become mighty chummy.

Since Stan remained busy with his team even after the race, the four of us decided to pick up some food and head back to his place. It didn’t surprise me in the least when Erin jumped right in the back seat of our rental car, again sandwiched between Raymond and Patrick. So now I was their chauffeur!

Traffic was murderous, and as we sat for almost two hours, the three of them got busy in the back seat. With the rear-view mirror adjusted appropriately, I got to see the guys simultaneously fondle and suck on my wife’s big tits while they took turns finger-fucking her. Then she alternated sucking their cocks.

When we got to Stan’s, I dashed inside to grab a beer from the fridge. I sure as hell needed a drink! Not having heard Erin or her two guys come in the house, I went out to the car to see if they were still “busy.” But there was no one in the car.

Puzzled, I returned to the house, and eventually found them in the master bedroom, already naked, with Erin on all fours sucking on Raymond’s black cock, the longest and fattest cock I’d ever seen, while Patrick stuffed her pussy from behind with his long, slightly curved tool. They could have been auditioning for a porn movie — and they would surely have gotten the roles!

I disrobed too, just to be ready in case I was invited to join in. I pulled up a chair to watch, hard-on in hand. Erin popped her head up and asked me if I would get her some water. When I returned, Raymond and Patrick had changed positions. While Erin artfully explored Patrick’s genitals, sucking on one after the other of his big balls, running her tongue up and down his long shaft, Raymond explored her shapely ass, spreading her cheeks and lapping around her asshole, then shooting his tongue in and out of it.

After a few minutes Raymond looked at me and said, “You have a very bad wife. As I nodded in agreement, he waved me to step over, then said, “I think she wants a spanking for being so, so bad.” Knowing that my wife has never been adverse to corporal punishment, I gave each of her cheeks a good spanking. She turned her head to me and said, “Is that all you got, hon? Harder!” Her obedient husband obliged, spanking her harder than I had ever dared before. With each slap she let out a loud grunt.

Now Raymond looked at me and said, “I understand your lovely lady likes to be fucked in the ass.” I was dumbfounded. He indicated a dresser drawer and asked me to bring him “the stuff” in it. I found a tube of lubricant and brought it to him. After thanking me, he said, “As you can tell, I’m going to need a lot of this stuff. But Stan assured me that Erin’s going to love having my fat cock in her ass.”

Raymond said, “Don’t you think she needs another spanking?” I stepped behind my wife, raised both hands and slapped her ass with all my strength. She grunted, looked back at me and said, “Harder, damn it!” I guess it was obvious from the look on my face that this was new territory for me but not for her, and Raymond invited me to do the honors of fucking her in the ass, possibly as a warm-up for his much grander entry.

Having grasped that this wasn’t my wife’s first ass-fucking, I went right for it. I penetrated her with relative ease, but then came almost immediately. I felt obliged to apologize to Raymond for the sloppy seconds I had caused, but he said, “No problem, man. She’s going to need all the wetness she can get.” Then he pushed me aside gently and positioned himself to stuff his really long and even thicker cock at my wife’s asshole. While she continued sucking Patrick off, he slowly buried that monster in her ass.

I sat down to watch. After a few minutes Erin stopped the action. She freed herself from Patrick’s big cock, then moved over and began riding Patrick. Raymond thoughtfully wiped off his cock, then stood on the bed and fed it in her mouth. Erin, an amazing cocksucker, applied herself to the huge challenge. While continuing to buck hard on Patrick’s outsize cock, she lifted Raymond’s and, enthralled, licked, sucked and kissed his big black balls, then slid her tongue up one side of his shaft and down the other.

Suddenly the sliding glass door opened and in walked Stan, already naked. Well, three for three: another huge cock, even bigger than Raymond’s! So this was what had got my wife going and yearning for more! Seeing Stan standing by the bed, she politely said, “Excuse me,” to Patrick and with a big sexy smile got down on her knees and started sucking Stan voraciously.

After a while Stan pulled Erin to her feet, looked at me and said, “Well, dude, are you ready for your grand finale?” I said nothing. Stan directed Raymond to lie on his back on the bed and had Erin jump on top of him and start riding his cock. She began taking Raymond’s full length methodically in her pussy. Stan had Patrick move in behind her and begin drilling her ass with his crooked cock. She went wild, screaming and moaning louder than I’d ever heard her. Stan stood on the bed and moved his huge cock toward her lips, and she slowly sucked the whole fucking thing in!

While the guys pumped their giant tools in my wife’s orifices, I stroked my cock madly. When Stan saw me self-abusing, he motioned me with his finger to move in for a closer view. It was a totally surreal sight.

Now, as if by Stan’s master plan, he and his two fuckmates pulled out of my wife at the same time, and he asked her to lie on her back. As if by instinct, all four of us moved over her face and tits and beat our meat furiously, going for release. I came first, spewing cream all over my wife’s tits. One at a time Raymond and Patrick followed suit, as did Stan, except that he first plunged his cock in her mouth.

Once Erin had swallowed every drop of Stan’s come, she asked me to scoop up all the come strewn over her tits and chest with my finger and feed it to her. With each load I presented to her, she vacuumed my finger as if she was desperate not to waste a drop. This took a good ten minutes. Then Stan pulled her to her feet and walked her into the shower room and locked the door.

Raymond and Patrick gathered their clothes, high-fived me and left. Alone now, I grabbed another beer and sat patiently on the edge of the bed. Maybe 45 minutes later, Erin and Stan emerged hand in hand, with towels wrapped around them. Why suddenly the towels, ferchrissakes? I’ll never know.

“Hon,” Erin said sheepishly, “would you mind if I spent the rest of the night with Stan?” My first thought was to say, “Haven’t you had enough?” But instead I said, “Sure, why not?” They both smiled and headed toward the sliding glass door onto the deck, which connected to the adjoining bedroom where Stan was staying during our visit. As they stepped outside, Stan turned back and said, “Oh, I almost forgot. Dude, happy birthday!”

Erin and Stan fucked into the wee hours. I didn’t even try to conceal myself when I went out on the deck and gawked through the glass door of the bedroom where Stan was fucking the shit out of my wife. It was my birthday present, after all, and I didn’t want to miss any of it!

In the morning the four of us who were traveling caught an early flight out. Of course, on the plane Erin chose to sit between her new fuckbuddies. It occurred to me that while Stan would have to remain a memory for both me and my sexaholic wife — an indelible memory, but only a memory unless we happened to get back to Indianapolis — Raymond and Patrick were likely to become fixtures in her life, and mine. After all, I couldn’t seem to get enough of watching my breathtaking wife fuck these incredible studs. I found myself thinking of the old Meat Loaf tune “Two Out Of Three Ain’t Bad.”

That is, until I heard Erin say, “I can hardly wait until next year’s race.” And sure enough, Erin and I have now spent 13 consecutive Memorial Days in Indianapolis. A few of those years Raymond and/or Patrick have accompanied us, but it’s okay when they don’t — Erin gets to bang them enough at home. What she can’t live without is her annual three-day dose of Stan. Naturally they take the master bedroom and I get the spare room. But I get to watch from the deck, and occasionally I’m invited in for a threesome.

I’m not looking forward to breaking the news to Erin that because of work I won’t be able to make the trip this year. I’m considering how to respond when she asks, as I know she will, “Well, can I make the trip alone?”