u/ProjectEmilys

The front door opened just after three. Emily always came home from Sunday tea with Mrs. Halpern around that time, but today the sound of her steps was different, almost frantic. When she stepped into the hallway, her cheeks were flushed, her bun was coming undone, and she wouldn’t even look at me.

She just whispered, “I’ll be upstairs,” and hurried toward our bedroom.

I stood there for a moment, confused. Tea with Mrs. Halpern was usually stiff and formal. Emily always came back quiet and subdued. But this was something else entirely. I followed her up the stairs. Halfway up, I heard the bedroom door close. By the time I reached the door, I heard something else, a loud, insistent buzzing, and Emily’s breath catching in her throat.

My stomach tightened. Jenna had bought her that vibrator a while ago and Emily was still shy about using it. But now she sounded overwhelmed, gasping like she couldn’t get control of herself.

I stood outside the door, my hand hovering over the knob, listening. Emily's gasping turned to moans. She sounded frantic. She gave a sudden sharp shout and abruptly came. The buzzing stopped all at once, like someone had cut a wire. For a second, the whole house felt too quiet. I stood there with my hand still on the door, my heart pounding in my throat.

Then Emily’s voice came through, steady, but breathless.

“Scott… come in.”

She knew I’d been listening.

I opened the door slowly, like I was intruding. The room was warm, the curtains half‑drawn, sunlight spilling across the bed in uneven stripes.

Emily was tangled in the sheets, her hair falling out of its bun, her cheeks flushed a deep, impossible red. She wasn’t embarrassed. She wasn’t shy. She looked… intense. Focused. Like she was still somewhere else entirely and only halfway back.

Her eyes locked onto mine, hazel, bright, almost fevered, and I froze in the doorway.

“Emily,” I said quietly, “what happened?”

Emily’s eyes stayed focused on mine.

“Scott,” she said softly, but with a firmness that made my spine straighten, “come here.”

I stepped closer to the bed, feeling strangely exposed even though I was fully dressed. Her gaze didn’t waver. It felt like she was seeing straight through me.

“Take off your clothes,” she said.

There was no hesitation in her voice. Whatever had happened at tea had changed something in her, and I could feel it radiating off her like heat.

When I lay down beside her, the room felt different. Still warm, still quiet, but charged in a way I couldn’t name. Emily took my cock in her hand. I was already hard, pulsing with urgency. I had no idea what was happening, but the confusion was exciting. 

“Scott,” she said, her voice low, “Mrs. Halpern said something to me today.”

My heart thudded.

“What… what did she say?”

Emily’s fingers tightened around me. Moving slowly. 

“You know her. She's intrusive. No boundaries. Sanctimonious. She asked me why I haven’t conceived yet,” she said. “She said she’s worried about me.”

I felt my breath catch. Emily looked down for a moment, then back up at me, her hazel eyes burning with something I couldn’t decipher. My cock pulsed in her hand.

"I didn't want to tell her anything. So, I said that we're trying. And...I implied that you might be struggling. I thought that would embarrass her. Make her back off. It didn't." I gasped. She clenched my cock and I thrust upwards.

"Mrs. Halpern told me that Scripture commands us to be fruitful and multiply. That motherhood isn’t a blessing; it’s young wife's duty.”

She paused, letting the words hang in the air. I was aching. Scared about what she might say next. Excited by what she might say next. 

“She said she wants to help me,” Emily whispered. “Help us. She said the elder women sometimes made arrangements. Quiet, sanctioned, discreet. Ones the Church has tolerated for generations. Arrangements for wives who need help fulfilling their sacred purpose. For the good of the congregation."

I stared at her, unable to speak. The soft motion of her hand drove thoughts from my mind. Her voice anchored me. 

“She said she had list of eligible men,” Emily continued. “Strong. Upright. Reliable. Men the Lord might send to help a young wife conceive.”

My heart thudded painfully. I tightened beneath her hand. I wanted to cum. I wanted to wait. 

“She asked if I was ready to fulfill my duty.” Emily said, her voice dropping lower. "I didn't know how to answer. I just looked at the floor."

"And then, she told me something else.” She paused, letting the silence stretch until I felt dizzy.

“She told me I must never tell my husband,” Emily added calmly. "That men are delicate in spirit about such matters. That even thought it was for the good of the church, you could never know you were a cuckold." 

I gasped. It was the first time I'd hear the word from her lips. She straddled me suddenly, guided my cock into her pussy. She was hot and wet and I slid in easily. We gasped together. She moved her hips against me. It was the first time she'd climbed on top of me, fucked me instead of being fucked. 

“Scott,” she said, her voice low and steady, “look at me.”

I did. I couldn’t look anywhere else.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” she demanded. Not asked, demanded.

I swallowed hard. My voice came out rough, unsteady.

“I… I love it,” I said. “Emily, I love it so much I can barely breathe.”

Her eyes widened slightly, as if she hadn’t expected me to say it so plainly.

“The idea of a church elder arranging this,” I continued, “It’s almost overpowering. It feels forbidden. Sacred. And the idea of you pretending to sneak around behind my back...” 

It has always been my fantasy for Emily to fuck other men. She'd agreed to it. Done it. She'd been fucking my best friend in secret while I watched. The idea of her fucking a random man from the church, pretending to cheat on me for a sacred purpose, was like a hot coal in my stomach. I grabbed Emily's hips, feeling her writhe against me. 

 "I want it." Emily whispered, her head back. "I want to be that slut. I want the sanctimonious men lusting after me. Straining to get me pregnant. Pretending their sin is duty. Making you a cuckold." 

The word hit me like a blow. I felt my breath stutter, my stomach tighten, my whole body react in a way I didn’t understand. Emily saw it. She watched me carefully, her cheeks flushed, her eyes bright.

“Emily…” I gasped, “say it.”

She leaned closer, her lips almost brushing my ear, her voice trembling with emotion.

“Cuckold,” she whispered. “My Cuckold.”

The word hit me like a shockwave, overwhelming, consuming. Emily gasped at the same moment, her whole body tightening with the intensity of saying it out loud. She moved her fingers between her legs. She rubbed her clit furiously as she spoke.

"My Cuckold." She gasped. 

"My Cuckold." She came hard, her thighs clenching tightly, squeezing the breath from my chest. 

And I followed right after into her, exploding into her, the two of us collapsing into the moment together.

She fell to my side, gasping as I slipped from her pussy.

"I love you, My Cuckold." She whispered. 

"I love you too, My Slut."

The front door opened just after three. Emily always came home from Sunday tea with Mrs. Halpern around that time, but today the sound of her steps was different, almost frantic. When she stepped into the hallway, her cheeks were flushed, her bun was coming undone, and she wouldn’t even look at me.

She just whispered, “I’ll be upstairs,” and hurried toward our bedroom.

I stood there for a moment, confused. Tea with Mrs. Halpern was usually stiff and formal. Emily always came back quiet and subdued. But this was something else entirely. I followed her up the stairs. Halfway up, I heard the bedroom door close. By the time I reached the door, I heard something else, a loud, insistent buzzing, and Emily’s breath catching in her throat.

My stomach tightened. Jenna had bought her that vibrator a while ago and Emily was still shy about using it. But now she sounded overwhelmed, gasping like she couldn’t get control of herself.

I stood outside the door, my hand hovering over the knob, listening. Emily's gasping turned to moans. She sounded frantic. She gave a sudden sharp shout and abruptly came. The buzzing stopped all at once, like someone had cut a wire. For a second, the whole house felt too quiet. I stood there with my hand still on the door, my heart pounding in my throat.

Then Emily’s voice came through, steady, but breathless.

“Scott… come in.”

She knew I’d been listening.

I opened the door slowly, like I was intruding. The room was warm, the curtains half‑drawn, sunlight spilling across the bed in uneven stripes.

Emily was tangled in the sheets, her hair falling out of its bun, her cheeks flushed a deep, impossible red. She wasn’t embarrassed. She wasn’t shy. She looked… intense. Focused. Like she was still somewhere else entirely and only halfway back.

Her eyes locked onto mine, hazel, bright, almost fevered, and I froze in the doorway.

“Emily,” I said quietly, “what happened?”

Emily’s eyes stayed focused on mine.

“Scott,” she said softly, but with a firmness that made my spine straighten, “come here.”

I stepped closer to the bed, feeling strangely exposed even though I was fully dressed. Her gaze didn’t waver. It felt like she was seeing straight through me.

“Take off your clothes,” she said.

There was no hesitation in her voice. Whatever had happened at tea had changed something in her, and I could feel it radiating off her like heat.

When I lay down beside her, the room felt different. Still warm, still quiet, but charged in a way I couldn’t name. Emily took my cock in her hand. I was already hard, pulsing with urgency. I had no idea what was happening, but the confusion was exciting. 

“Scott,” she said, her voice low, “Mrs. Halpern said something to me today.”

My heart thudded.

“What… what did she say?”

Emily’s fingers tightened around me. Moving slowly. 

“You know her. She's intrusive. No boundaries. Sanctimonious. She asked me why I haven’t conceived yet,” she said. “She said she’s worried about me.”

I felt my breath catch. Emily looked down for a moment, then back up at me, her hazel eyes burning with something I couldn’t decipher. My cock pulsed in her hand.

"I didn't want to tell her anything. So, I said that we're trying. And...I implied that you might be struggling. I thought that would embarrass her. Make her back off. It didn't." I gasped. She clenched my cock and I thrust upwards.

"Mrs. Halpern told me that Scripture commands us to be fruitful and multiply. That motherhood isn’t a blessing; it’s young wife's duty.”

She paused, letting the words hang in the air. I was aching. Scared about what she might say next. Excited by what she might say next. 

“She said she wants to help me,” Emily whispered. “Help us. She said the elder women sometimes made arrangements. Quiet, sanctioned, discreet. Ones the Church has tolerated for generations. Arrangements for wives who need help fulfilling their sacred purpose. For the good of the congregation."

I stared at her, unable to speak. The soft motion of her hand drove thoughts from my mind. Her voice anchored me. 

“She said she had list of eligible men,” Emily continued. “Strong. Upright. Reliable. Men the Lord might send to help a young wife conceive.”

My heart thudded painfully. I tightened beneath her hand. I wanted to cum. I wanted to wait. 

“She asked if I was ready to fulfill my duty.” Emily said, her voice dropping lower. "I didn't know how to answer. I just looked at the floor."

"And then, she told me something else.” She paused, letting the silence stretch until I felt dizzy.

“She told me I must never tell my husband,” Emily added calmly. "That men are delicate in spirit about such matters. That even thought it was for the good of the church, you could never know you were a cuckold." 

I gasped. It was the first time I'd hear the word from her lips. She straddled me suddenly, guided my cock into her pussy. She was hot and wet and I slid in easily. We gasped together. She moved her hips against me. It was the first time she'd climbed on top of me, fucked me instead of being fucked. 

“Scott,” she said, her voice low and steady, “look at me.”

I did. I couldn’t look anywhere else.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” she demanded. Not asked, demanded.

I swallowed hard. My voice came out rough, unsteady.

“I… I love it,” I said. “Emily, I love it so much I can barely breathe.”

Her eyes widened slightly, as if she hadn’t expected me to say it so plainly.

“The idea of a church elder arranging this,” I continued, “It’s almost overpowering. It feels forbidden. Sacred. And the idea of you pretending to sneak around behind my back...” 

It has always been my fantasy for Emily to fuck other men. She'd agreed to it. Done it. She'd been fucking my best friend in secret while I watched. The idea of her fucking a random man from the church, pretending to cheat on me for a sacred purpose, was like a hot coal in my stomach. I grabbed Emily's hips, feeling her writhe against me. 

 "I want it." Emily whispered, her head back. "I want to be that slut. I want the sanctimonious men lusting after me. Straining to get me pregnant. Pretending their sin is duty. Making you a cuckold." 

The word hit me like a blow. I felt my breath stutter, my stomach tighten, my whole body react in a way I didn’t understand. Emily saw it. She watched me carefully, her cheeks flushed, her eyes bright.

“Emily…” I gasped, “say it.”

She leaned closer, her lips almost brushing my ear, her voice trembling with emotion.

“Cuckold,” she whispered. “My Cuckold.”

The word hit me like a shockwave, overwhelming, consuming. Emily gasped at the same moment, her whole body tightening with the intensity of saying it out loud. She moved her fingers between her legs. She rubbed her clit furiously as she spoke.

"My Cuckold." She gasped. 

"My Cuckold." She came hard, her thighs clenching tightly, squeezing the breath from my chest. 

And I followed right after into her, exploding into her, the two of us collapsing into the moment together.

She fell to my side, gasping as I slipped from her pussy.

"I love you, My Cuckold." She whispered. 

"I love you too, My Slut."

The front door opened just after three. Emily always came home from Sunday tea with Mrs. Halpern around that time, but today the sound of her steps was different, almost frantic. When she stepped into the hallway, her cheeks were flushed, her bun was coming undone, and she wouldn’t even look at me.

She just whispered, “I’ll be upstairs,” and hurried toward our bedroom.

I stood there for a moment, confused. Tea with Mrs. Halpern was usually stiff and formal. Emily always came back quiet and subdued. But this was something else entirely. I followed her up the stairs. Halfway up, I heard the bedroom door close. By the time I reached the door, I heard something else, a loud, insistent buzzing, and Emily’s breath catching in her throat.

My stomach tightened. Jenna had bought her that vibrator a while ago and Emily was still shy about using it. But now she sounded overwhelmed, gasping like she couldn’t get control of herself.

I stood outside the door, my hand hovering over the knob, listening. Emily's gasping turned to moans. She sounded frantic. She gave a sudden sharp shout and abruptly came. The buzzing stopped all at once, like someone had cut a wire. For a second, the whole house felt too quiet. I stood there with my hand still on the door, my heart pounding in my throat.

Then Emily’s voice came through, steady, but breathless.

“Scott… come in.”

She knew I’d been listening.

I opened the door slowly, like I was intruding. The room was warm, the curtains half‑drawn, sunlight spilling across the bed in uneven stripes.

Emily was tangled in the sheets, her hair falling out of its bun, her cheeks flushed a deep, impossible red. She wasn’t embarrassed. She wasn’t shy. She looked… intense. Focused. Like she was still somewhere else entirely and only halfway back.

Her eyes locked onto mine, hazel, bright, almost fevered, and I froze in the doorway.

“Emily,” I said quietly, “what happened?”

Emily’s eyes stayed focused on mine.

“Scott,” she said softly, but with a firmness that made my spine straighten, “come here.”

I stepped closer to the bed, feeling strangely exposed even though I was fully dressed. Her gaze didn’t waver. It felt like she was seeing straight through me.

“Take off your clothes,” she said.

There was no hesitation in her voice. Whatever had happened at tea had changed something in her, and I could feel it radiating off her like heat.

When I lay down beside her, the room felt different. Still warm, still quiet, but charged in a way I couldn’t name. Emily took my cock in her hand. I was already hard, pulsing with urgency. I had no idea what was happening, but the confusion was exciting. 

“Scott,” she said, her voice low, “Mrs. Halpern said something to me today.”

My heart thudded.

“What… what did she say?”

Emily’s fingers tightened around me. Moving slowly. 

“You know her. She's intrusive. No boundaries. Sanctimonious. She asked me why I haven’t conceived yet,” she said. “She said she’s worried about me.”

I felt my breath catch. Emily looked down for a moment, then back up at me, her hazel eyes burning with something I couldn’t decipher. My cock pulsed in her hand.

"I didn't want to tell her anything. So, I said that we're trying. And...I implied that you might be struggling. I thought that would embarrass her. Make her back off. It didn't." I gasped. She clenched my cock and I thrust upwards.

"Mrs. Halpern told me that Scripture commands us to be fruitful and multiply. That motherhood isn’t a blessing; it’s young wife's duty.”

She paused, letting the words hang in the air. I was aching. Scared about what she might say next. Excited by what she might say next. 

“She said she wants to help me,” Emily whispered. “Help us. She said the elder women sometimes made arrangements. Quiet, sanctioned, discreet. Ones the Church has tolerated for generations. Arrangements for wives who need help fulfilling their sacred purpose. For the good of the congregation."

I stared at her, unable to speak. The soft motion of her hand drove thoughts from my mind. Her voice anchored me. 

“She said she had list of eligible men,” Emily continued. “Strong. Upright. Reliable. Men the Lord might send to help a young wife conceive.”

My heart thudded painfully. I tightened beneath her hand. I wanted to cum. I wanted to wait. 

“She asked if I was ready to fulfill my duty.” Emily said, her voice dropping lower. "I didn't know how to answer. I just looked at the floor."

"And then, she told me something else.” She paused, letting the silence stretch until I felt dizzy.

“She told me I must never tell my husband,” Emily added calmly. "That men are delicate in spirit about such matters. That even thought it was for the good of the church, you could never know you were a cuckold." 

I gasped. It was the first time I'd hear the word from her lips. She straddled me suddenly, guided my cock into her pussy. She was hot and wet and I slid in easily. We gasped together. She moved her hips against me. It was the first time she'd climbed on top of me, fucked me instead of being fucked. 

“Scott,” she said, her voice low and steady, “look at me.”

I did. I couldn’t look anywhere else.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” she demanded. Not asked, demanded.

I swallowed hard. My voice came out rough, unsteady.

“I… I love it,” I said. “Emily, I love it so much I can barely breathe.”

Her eyes widened slightly, as if she hadn’t expected me to say it so plainly.

“The idea of a church elder arranging this,” I continued, “It’s almost overpowering. It feels forbidden. Sacred. And the idea of you pretending to sneak around behind my back...” 

It has always been my fantasy for Emily to fuck other men. She'd agreed to it. Done it. She'd been fucking my best friend in secret while I watched. The idea of her fucking a random man from the church, pretending to cheat on me for a sacred purpose, was like a hot coal in my stomach. I grabbed Emily's hips, feeling her writhe against me. 

 "I want it." Emily whispered, her head back. "I want to be that slut. I want the sanctimonious men lusting after me. Straining to get me pregnant. Pretending their sin is duty. Making you a cuckold." 

The word hit me like a blow. I felt my breath stutter, my stomach tighten, my whole body react in a way I didn’t understand. Emily saw it. She watched me carefully, her cheeks flushed, her eyes bright.

“Emily…” I gasped, “say it.”

She leaned closer, her lips almost brushing my ear, her voice trembling with emotion.

“Cuckold,” she whispered. “My Cuckold.”

The word hit me like a shockwave, overwhelming, consuming. Emily gasped at the same moment, her whole body tightening with the intensity of saying it out loud. She moved her fingers between her legs. She rubbed her clit furiously as she spoke.

"My Cuckold." She gasped. 

"My Cuckold." She came hard, her thighs clenching tightly, squeezing the breath from my chest. 

And I followed right after into her, exploding into her, the two of us collapsing into the moment together.

She fell to my side, gasping as I slipped from her pussy.

"I love you, My Cuckold." She whispered. 

"I love you too, My Slut."

I’m lying on my back on the filthy mattress in our garage. It’s worn and stained. Emily is above me, her body close enough that she fills my entire field of vision. Her thighs frame everything.

The view is something I never imagined that I'd see. My best friends cock in plunging into her pussy. We'd been a devoutly religious couple, until a few months ago, until I'd confessed my deepest desire, to watch my best friend fuck her, and she'd agreed.

I can see her light brown pubic hair, the soft pink of her lips, the hard nub of her clit.  I can see David's hard cock, glistening with her wetness.  I can see his sack, clenching and unclenching as he thrusts. It's all so close to my face, as they fuck above me, that it's almost blurry.  I can smell her, almost taste her, we are so close. The light is bright, almost too intense. We'd set up my worklamps so that I could see this exact view.

She was supposed to be sucking my cock. But she’s forgotten, not out of neglect, but because she been swept away. I can feel her shifting above me, her breath catching, her fingers digging into the mattress. She’s somewhere else entirely, somewhere she goes with David in a way she never goes with me.

I can hear him behind her and above me. I can hear the rhythm of his body, the confidence in every movement. I can see the way her body reacts to him. I can see the way she leans into him without thinking.

Emily’s voice fills the garage. loud, unrestrained, echoing off the concrete walls in a way that makes the whole space feel smaller, hotter, more charged. I’ve heard her lose control before, but never directly above me like this, never with her body shaking so hard that I can feel every tremor through my own skin. Her cry hits me like a physical thing, like a wave that rolls down her spine and into me. Her head drops suddenly, collapsing onto my thigh. I feel the weight of her cheek, the warmth of her breath, the way her hair brushes against me in messy strands. She’s gone somewhere deep, somewhere she can’t think or speak or remember anything except what she’s feeling.

David doesn’t stop. I can hear and feel him. The rhythm of his body, the breath he lets out through his teeth, the steady, confident pace he never loses. He keeps going like her loudness is fuel, like her collapse is encouragement, like he’s been waiting for her to fall apart like this.

The mattress shifts under all three of us, creaking, dipping, pressing into my back in uneven patches. It’s filthy, stained, uncomfortable, and somehow it feels sacred.

Emily’s breath is hot against my thigh. Her fingers dig into the mattress again. Her whole body moves with the force of what she’s feeling,

David’s breath changes. I hear it before I see anything, that sharp, low sound he makes when he’s close, the way his rhythm tightens, the way the air in the garage seems to pull inward around him. I’ve known him long enough to recognize that shift.

David’s whole body locks up behind her as the sudden intensity overtakes him.

His balls clench tightly, close against his body. It’s unmistakable. It’s intimate. It’s overwhelming. And I’m right here beneath them, close enough to see every detail of the moment he finishes with her. He thrusts deep and grunts, low and long. A deep beastial sound as he pumps his sperm into my wife's body.

When he finishes David pulls out. Emily's whole body shudders. A wet pearl of white, David's cum, wells out of her used pussy. It drips on to my chin and I flinch a little.

David's voice cuts through the haze of the garage, low, rough, still shaking from what just happened.

“Scott,” he says, breath still uneven, “you’d better take care of that. Unless you want her carrying my kid.”

My chest tightens.

My breath catches.

My mind races.

Reacting to his voice, Emily rocks back. Her pussy is dirty above me now. She is glistening with his cum.

I feel myself tipping. I shouldn’t want this.

I shouldn’t crave it. But I do.

I know I should be repulsed or ashamed.

I know I should feel something other than this overwhelming need to eat her used puasy.

I pull her close and lick her. Tentatively at first. Then with passionate intensity. She is soft and wet beyond imagining. The taste is an intense mix of masculine and feminine. She feels slick and hot.

Emily’s whole body tightens above me  sudden, sharp, unmistakable. It’s not the wild, loud climax she had earlier. This one is smaller, quicker, almost startled, like something inside her snaps and releases all at once. Her breath catches. Her thighs tremble around me. And I feel her react to me.

Her voice breaks into a soft cry. Not loud, or wild, but joyful and a bit suprised. Her whole body shudders with the force of it. And I’m happy. Not just happy, overwhelmed. Filled with a kind of joy that feels too big for my chest.

Emily stirs above me, slowly coming back from wherever her mind had drifted. Her breath is still uneven, her body still trembling in small aftershocks. She touches my aching cock. It’s barely anything, just her hand moving down, just her fingers brushing me with the gentlest, laziest stroke, like she’s not even thinking about it.

The contact is light, almost accidental, but it's enough. My whole body reacts instantly. It happens fast. Embarrassingly fast, beautifully fast, because I’m already overwhelmed, already full, already stretched thin by everything I’ve seen and felt tonight. Her touch is the last spark on a fuse that’s been burning since the moment she climbed above me. I cum hard. On her hand and on my thighs. Emily laughs a soft, gentle laugh and collapses against me again.

David steps back. I can hardly see him from this angle. He’s breathing hard, chest rising and falling, sweat shining on his skin. He looks at us, really looks. at the heap of bodies tangled together on the filthy mattress, at the way Emily is collapsed over me, at the way I’m holding her like she’s the center of my universe.

For a moment he’s silent.Then he laughs.

“Fuck,” he says, shaking his head. “I love you guys.”

The morning is warm and quiet. I wake slowly. Emily is already moving beside me. There’s a charge in her, a kind of anticipation she doesn’t say out loud, but I can feel it in the way she breathes. David is coming over tonight. 

David is my best friend. I'd confessed to Emily my secret fantasy of watching her fuck him. After a lot of soul searching and prayer, Emily had agreed. We were very devout. We'd even been virgins when we married. Emily's experiences with David had opened a whole new universe for us. 

I reach for her without thinking. She melts into me, and for a moment it’s just the two of us, the room gentle and familiar. Since she's started sleeping with David our libidos have soared. We can hardly stop touching each other. 

I slide my hands down her body. Between her legs. She opens enthusiastically. I stroke her softly. Then with increasing pressure and speed. She cums hard against my hand, her legs clenching in pleasure.

I see it when I pull back. Smears of red on my fingertips. My stomach drops.

“Emily…” I whisper.

She looks at me, confused for a second, then her face falls. “Oh. I must’ve started this morning. I didn’t realize.”

I nod too fast, trying to look calm. I've never been comfortable with her period. I keep my eyes on her face instead of my hand, jaw tight, forcing myself to stay close.

“I’m sorry,” she says softly, taking my hand like she’s grounding me.

“It’s okay,” I manage, even though my voice shakes. “I just wasn’t expecting it.

I know my reaction is childish. I know it. I just can't help it. I try to move with a semblance of dignity as I hustle to the washroom to wash up. When I return Emily brushes past me. She doesn't meet my eyes. It feel it like a cold draft.

A few month ago, she would’ve laughed softly, told me it was okay, brushed my cheek and made the whole thing disappear. But she’s different now  stronger, more aware of herself, her body, her boundaries. And I love that about her. I’m proud of it. But it means she doesn’t cushion me anymore. She doesn’t shrink herself to make room for my discomfort.

The bathroom door opens. Emily leans her head out.

"Scott. We're out of tampons up here. Can you grab one from the downstairs bathroom?" She has a strange little smirk. I'm confused. I could have sworn I saw a box earlier. 

I fetch her a tampon from the downstairs bathroom. Hand it to her through a crack in the door. She has the same smirk. If anything, it's wider now. I realize that she's messing with me. Mocking my discomfort.

The morning is awkward. I keep trying to find the right moment to apologize, but I can't quite figure out the words. 

By late afternoon, the silence between us feels like a wall I built without meaning to. When the doorbell finally rings, I flinch. The sound cuts through the quiet like a blade.

David steps inside with his usual easy confidence, smiling like nothing in the world could possibly be complicated. The whole energy of the house shifts around him. Emily straightens, her expression smoothing into something warm and open in a way it hasn’t been with me all day.

“Been looking forward to tonight,” he says. He brushes his fingers across her cheek intimately. Emily leans into the touch momentarily, then steps back and shakes her head. David looks at her in puzzlement. 

“Well…" She takes a long moment to figure out what to say.  "You didn’t get me pregnant this month.” She smirks again. 

My whole body goes rigid. Hearing her saying something so bluntly hits me in the chest. David just blinks, surprised.

“I got my period today." She clarifies. "It's early."

"So?" David seems genuinely puzzled 

"I thought you’d want to cancel.”

David raises an eyebrow. “Why would I do that?”

I watch her hesitate. “You’re… okay with it?”

He shrugs. “It’s normal. Doesn’t bother me.”

The ease in his voice makes something twist inside me. Not jealousy, something quieter, more complicated. He’s calm. Unshaken. Everything I wasn’t this morning.

Emily’s shoulders loosen. I see it happen. Relief. Confusion. A flicker of something I can’t name.

“We’re not having sex tonight,” she says. "I'm not ready for that "

David’s disappointment shows for a moment, but he doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t look away. He just nods. “It’s your call.”

And that, that calm acceptance, makes her look at him differently. I see it. I feel it. 

She turns to him. “Come with me.”

My stomach tightens. I follow them, silent, unsure, the distance between me and Emily widening with every step. She holds David’s hand. She doesn’t look back at me.

The garage feels colder than usual. The air is thick, charged, like something is about to shift again. Emily stands there with David, steady and deliberate, and I feel like I’m watching a moment I don’t fully understand.

She slowly kneels on the cold concrete in front of David. She doesn't say a word. She reaches out and unbuttons his jeans. She pulls his pants and underwear down to his ankles, helps him step out of them. His cock is hard and throbbing. She jacks him off for a moment, then rests his cock against her face. She smiles broadly. Her cheeks glisten with her precum.

She licks the length of his cock. She is giving me a show, making a point. She takes David into her mouth. Then she takes him deep. Into her throat. She'd rewarding him.

David moans and pulls her close. He doesn't know why he's being rewarded. He doesn't care. He just enjoys it. 

She tries to keep throat fucking him, but it's new to her. She pulls back a little, licks the head of his cock, teases him with her lips. He looks at me and smiles.

"She is getting really good at this, eh?" He smirks down at her. "Just like the slut she really is."

If anyone else had called Emily that, she would have been furious. With David, it only made her more enthusiastic. She picks up her pace, her head bobbing frantically now. David grips her hair to steady himself. He groans. Then explodes. His hips buck frantically against Emily's face. She takes it all.

When he is done, Emily looks up at us and smiles. She opens her mouth, sticks out her tongue and shows us David's cum filling her mouth. Then she swallows. 

She gets to her feet.

"Next time," she tells David. "Next time I'll be ready to fuck."

Emily couldn’t keep still. I noticed it immediately, the way she shifted her weight, the way her fingers tapped against the counter. The night felt too warm, or maybe that was just me watching her, trying to read the signs I’ve learned to recognize. David stood by the fridge, a cold beer in hand, expression unreadable as always.

She drew a breath that trembled at the end. “I need to talk about something before tonight.”

My pulse jumped. David’s attention sharpened. Emily kept her eyes down for a moment.

“It’s about last time. In the car.”

David’s mouth curved, just slightly. He remembered. I did too. My stomach tightened.

“When you called me…” She hesitated, swallowing. “When you called me a slut… I liked it. More than I should have. I can’t stop thinking about it. I want to hear it again. But only if we’re clear that I’m the one choosing this. I set the rules. I decide how far things go. Once that’s understood… you can call me whatever you want.”

David exhaled, almost amused. “Dear God, Em. You really are a slut.”

The word hit her like a physical thing. I saw the shiver run through her, sharp and involuntary. She didn’t hide it. David saw everything.

He stepped closer. “If you’re giving permission… I’ll call you worse than that tonight.”

Her voice was barely there. “Please do.”

The room went still. Emily didn’t turn toward me; she kept her eyes forward, steady in a way that made my chest tighten. She reached for David’s hand. He took it immediately. She led us out of the warm kitchen, down the dim hallway. When she opened the garage door, warm air rolled out, carrying the familiar smell of dust and oil. The single flickering bulb threw restless shadows across the concrete. The stained mattress sat where it always does. Emily walked to it with quiet purpose, lowered herself onto it. The springs creaked under her weight.

She lies back slowly, looking at us from across the room.

Then she opened her legs.

David froze in the doorway. Emily’s breath faltered, but she doesn’t look away.

David’s voice dropped. “My slut.” The word landed heavy in the air. His smile was slow, almost stunned. “Yeah. That’s exactly what you are.”

Emily’s fingers tightened against the mattress. She held his gaze, steady and unashamed.

“Then come here.”  Her voice was calm, but I hear the tremor underneath. “I want tonight to be intense. I don’t want either of you holding back or second‑guessing yourselves. I want raw honesty. Whatever dark fantasies you’ve been afraid to voice… I want you to let them out.”

David inhaled sharply, like she just punched the air out of him.

“But,” she continued, her tone firming, “I’m still the one in charge. I set the rules. I set the limits. And if I ever say my safeword, Agnes, our church, you stop immediately.”

She held our eyes. Mine included.  David stared at her like she’s handed him something priceless. A breathless laugh escaped him, sharp in the dim garage.

“God, Em… that is so,” he paused, choosing the word she allowed him to use. “Slutty.”

The word hit her like a spark.

David’s voice dropped again. “And I agree.”

Emily’s breath trembled. “Good.”

He moved toward her with a confidence that fills the garage. He reached out and grips the front of her camisole. The fabric tightened under his hand, leaving faint red marks on her shoulders. Emily’s breath caught, quiet but unmistakable.

He leaned close, voice low and fierce. “You have no idea how hard I’m going to push you tonight,” he murmured. “You asked for this. You wanted to be my slut.”

The sound jolted her. Her whole body reacted, tightening with something she’s choosing, something she’s claiming.

Then David turned to me. “Film this.”

My pulse jumped. I lifted my phone automatically, hands trembling just enough that I hope neither of them noticed. The soft hum of the camera app filled the space.

Emily’s eyes widened. “David, wait,”

It’s not fear. It’s instinct. A flicker of hesitation before the rest of her takes over. She didn’t say the safeword. She didn’t even come close.

David looks down at her, steady and unyielding. “You didn’t say Agnes.”

I kept recording. The garage felt too quiet, too charged. Emily’s pulse was visible in her throat, fast and thunderous. She didn’t say the word. And I stood there, holding the camera.

David pushed Emily back onto the mattress and she went down before she could catch her breath. He stripped her clothes off roughly and lowered his face between her legs.  I couldn’t see everything he did, the angle hid it, but I could see the way she reacts. The way her breath stuttered. The way her fingers clutched at the filthy fabric beneath her.

She made a sound, raw, unguarded, that echoed through the garage. She didn’t hide anything. She didn’t try to be quiet. She gave herself to the moment completely.

When she came, so quickly and easily like every time with David, she was left trembling, breathless, stunned. For a heartbeat she looked like she can’t think, like she’s somewhere far beyond words.

David lifted his head. She opened her eyes and found him looking down at her with hunger and fierce satisfaction. His face glistened faintly in the low light. He didn’t wipe it away.

David rises and kissed her. I saw her breath catch at the shock of it. David pulled back just enough to speak, voice low and certain.

“Taste yourself, slut.”

The old version of Emily would have recoiled. But that girl feels distant now. Faded. She reacted to him, to the moment, to the permission she gave. She looked overwhelmed and alive in a way that makes my throat tighten.

David roughly spread Emily’s legs wide and moved his body into position. She gasped in shock and pleasure and he thrust into her. Filling her. 

Emily reacted instantly, giving him the intensity she promised. She performed for the camera, for me, for the moment, every breath, every sound, every way she let herself be pushed further than she ever has before. David knew exactly how to move her. She disappeared into sensation. She came so easily on his cock, looking deep into my eyes as she did. David finished inside her. Pushing his cum into her. He collapsed against her for a moment, breath ragged, his weight grounding her. She closed her eyes, overwhelmed, stunned, trembling.

David sat up and took the camera from me. With a rough push he urged me forward. He hovered close with the camera as I knelt between Emily’s legs, licked her, tasted the sperm that David left in my wife. Emily trembled. She squirmed under my tongue. She is always incredibly sensitive after an orgasm and David has already, easily, made her cum twice tonight.  

David’s voice cut through the air. “Keep still, Bitch.”

She froze at the escalation, stunned. Then David spoke again, this time to me.

“Eat it all.”

I reacted almost instinctively, with no hesitation or no retreat. Doing something that only days ago would have been unthinkable. It was humiliating. Degrading. And yet I wanted it more than anything. Wanted to be part of their joining.  The mingled taste of my wife and my friend rolled across my tongue. The scent filled my nose. I hardly noticed what it’s doing to Emily. I was taken by surprise when she came again.

Everything happened so fast I barely understand the shape of the moment until I’m already inside it. I moved forward on Emily with this fierce, instinctive urgency. But then David voice cut through the room.

“Stop. The bitch is mine. If anyone is getting her pregnant tonight, it’s me.”

His tone landed like a hand closing around the entire space, around both of us, around me. The moment was shocking. Putting something into words that had hardly even been a whisper of a fantasy.

I froze.

I felt the change in dynamic settle into me, into my chest, into the part of me that has been waiting for someone else to define the moment. And before I even think, I heard myself speak. My voice was low, shaking, but steady in its direction.

“Can I finish in her mouth?” I asked him for permission. Not her. Not my wife.

David.

“Yes.” His answer came immediately, calm and absolute, and the entire room seemed to rearrange itself around the sound of it. I couldn’t control myself. I moved up and came into her open mouth, onto her lips, her cheeks, the filthy mattress.

David didn’t wait for the moment to settle.  He grabbed Emily and rolled her on to her stomach. Moving her exactly where he wants her. She didn’t resist. Her cum covered cheek rested against the mattress. David roughly spread her legs. Pushed a finger into her. She moaned almost incoherently. He looked at me with a dangerous smile. He handed me the camera. Had me pan over her sweaty body. David spoke again, casually, confidently, not even looking at her. He was talking to me. Talking to the camera.

“She’s still so tight. Let’s change that.”

She trembled.

“The slut needs more,” he said, and the certainty in his voice hit me like a spark. He stepped away and his absence filled the garage like a shadow. He came back with an empty beer bottle in his hand, cold and dripping with condensation.

Emily saw it. And the shift in her was immediate, a ripple of realization, a tightening of breath, a flicker of anticipation she couldn’t hide.

David spread her legs, forced her face into mattress. And suddenly I realize; he is going to use the bottle. In her.

He leaned forward and brushed the hair away from ear, almost tenderly.

“I’ve always wanted to try this. Seems about right for a bitch like you.”

He knelt beside her. Pushed the bottle between her legs. Into her pussy.

I saw it in the way her whole body jolted, a sharp, involuntary reaction that stole the breath right out of her. It wasn’t not pain. It was the shock. The wrongness of the temperature. The deliberate degradation of it. The way it cut through every layer of composure she tries to hold.

Humiliation flooded her. I can see it. It hit fast, like a wave breaking over her before she could brace for it. But then I saw the shift.

The hunger.

It rose in her like a spark catching dry tinder, impossible to hide. Her breath stuttered. Her fingers curled. Her whole body trembled with a need she didn’t want to admit; a need she hated herself for feeling. I know that contradiction. I’ve lived inside it myself. Tonight.

Humiliation and desire tangled so tightly they become indistinguishable. Shame and want feeding each other until they’re the same thing.

I watched her fight it. I watched her lose.

David fucked her hard with the bottle. Callously, rapidly. He didn’t care what she was feeling. She had given him permission to be dark and he had taken it.  She gasped. Her breath got shorter and shorter. Her body softened around the moment instead of resisting it. And then something inside her simply gave way. Not breaking or collapsing. Opening.

At that moment David pulled the bottle out of her. Mounted her. Fucked her ruthlessly until he threw back his head and moaned, filing her stretched pussy again. He didn’t even notice that she was cumming too.

She was still trembling when David leaned over her, and I felt the tension ripple through the room before he even spoke. His voice was calm, almost conversational, but it landed with the weight of a command.

“Who do you want me to send the video to?”

The question hit her hard. I saw it in the way her eyes widened, like she’s been struck somewhere deep and unguarded. She should refuse. Anyone else would. But instead, I watched heat rush through her, a flush that rose fast, uncontrollable, undeniable.

She couldn’t speak at first. She’s not used to talking when she’s already unraveling. She’s not used to being asked anything when she’s barely holding herself together. But the question didn’t frighten her or shame her. It ignited her.

David saw it immediately. He didn’t wait for her voice. He started naming people, each name heavier, more forbidden, more impossible than the last.

“Jenna?”

Her best friend. I saw her lips part, barely a sound, barely a breath.

“Yes.”

“Mr. Halloway?”

Her boss. A tremor ran through her, sharp and involuntary.

“Yes.”

“Diana?”

Her sister. She inhaled sharply, like the name itself knocks the air out of her.

“Yes.”

Each answer slipped out of her like a confession torn from someplace she doesn’t usually let anyone see. Her cheeks burned. Her pulse raced. She wasn’t just responding, she was surrendering to the weight of the taboo, the gravity of being seen, the thrill of crossing lines she’s never even approached before.

And then David said the last name.

One she would never expect. One that represents everything she’s supposed to be. Everything she’s been taught to uphold. Everything she had stepped away from tonight.

“Father Benedict.”

Her whole body went still. It tore through her like a jolt. And before she could stop herself,  before she could think, the word escaped her.

“Yes.”

David tilted her chin up. She met his eyes. There was no mockery in his gaze. No cruelty. Only pride, fierce, startling, impossible to look away from.

“You’re a marvelous whore.”

Claire steps into her building, the lobby door closing softly behind her. I ease the car back into the street, the night settling around us. In the back seat, my best friend David lets out a low, pleased laugh. 

“Well,” he says, “that went better than I expected.”

My wife, Emily, doesn’t turn around. She sits straight and composed, the same posture she uses at church, the one everyone believes is her whole life.

“Better how?”

“Oh, come on,” David says lightly. “Claire was in a great mood. She kept smiling at everything I said. I think she likes me.”

Emily’s shoulders tighten. It’s small, but I know her too well to miss it. She and David have been fucking for months now, with my full approval, with my encouragement.  No one else knows. To the world she’s still the quiet Catholic wife who never steps out of line.

“She laughs at everyone,” Emily says. “She’s polite.”

David tilts his head, amused. “You think that’s all it was?”

“Yes,” she answers too quickly.

“Ouch,” he murmurs, delighted. “That sounded personal. You’re jealous.”

I hear Emily’s breath catch, a tiny, sharp sound. She turns her face toward the window. Her wedding ring glints under the passing streetlights, a reminder of everything we keep hidden.

“I’m not jealous,” she says. David settles in his seat, satisfied. He knows exactly how to needle her. He’s been doing it since the first night the two of them crossed that line, the night she let him in and let me watch. He knows her tells. He knows her reactions. He knows how far he can push.

“Y’know,” he says casually, “Claire kept glancing at me even when you were talking. It was cute.” Emily doesn’t move. He leans forward slightly, voice warm and teasing. “You didn’t notice? You were too busy being… well. You.” Her fingers tighten around her skirt. David sees it. Of course he does. And he pushes. “I mean, I get it. She probably thought I was out of her league. Happens.”

I let out a quiet breath. Emily doesn’t. She inhales sharply, shoulders rising. What I don’t say, what I keep to myself, is that Claire barely looked at David. She kept watching Emily. She lit up every time Emily spoke. She wasn’t interested in him. Not even a little. But I don’t say it.

Then Emily says, “Scott. Stop the car.”

I blink. “What? Em...”

“Stop the car.”

Her voice isn’t loud, but it slices through the air. I pull over immediately. Before the car fully settles, she unbuckles her seatbelt and opens the door. She doesn’t look at either of us as she steps out, walks around the back of the car, and opens the rear door. David straightens, surprised, but not confused.

Emily climbs into the back seat beside him. She shuts the door firmly. Then, without looking at David, she says to me:

“Drive.”

I hesitate. “Where?”

“I don’t care.” Her voice is low and controlled. I pull back onto the road. Something shifts in the back seat, small at first, then unmistakable. I glance at the rearview mirror.

Emily has moved closer to David, her white blouse brushing the dark blue of his shirt. Her head is lowered, the neat curve of her bun the only part I can see. David’s hand rests gently in her hair, fingers threaded with a kind of quiet authority, guiding her with a slow, deliberate rhythm.

My breath catches.

I force my eyes forward, but the mirror pulls at me. Every few seconds I steal another look , just enough to see David’s head tilt back, his jaw tighten, his lips part in a quiet exhale.

I can’t see everything. I don’t need to.

The soft, wet sounds behind me are faint but unmistakable. Emily’s muffled breaths. David’s low, involuntary noises. Jealousy hits first, sharp and hot. Devotion follows, heavier, settling into my chest like something sacred.

I grip the steering wheel harder.

I try to keep my eyes on the road, but the air in the car has changed. Movement in the back seat grows more deliberate, more rhythmic.

Emily’s head dips out of sight beside David. His hand stays in her hair, fingers curled with slow, guiding pressure. My pulse hammers.

I hear something, soft, wet, intimate, and my breath catches. David exhales, a low sound that makes my grip tighten on the wheel. Then he speaks, voice warm and unhurried.

“Scott… she feels incredible.” My stomach twists. 

David lets out another breath, almost a laugh.

“God, she’s so warm. So eager.”

My vision blurs for a moment. I blink hard, trying to breathe. Every word cuts me open. Every word feeds something I don’t have a name for.

Then David’s voice drops, intimate and reverent.

“Oh, Em. You’re such a slut.”

Emily freezes. The movement stops instantly. Then her voice, breathless, sharp, commanding, slices through the car.

“Scott. Pull over.”

I jerk slightly, startled. “Em...”

“Now.”

I obey without thinking, turning into the first empty lot I see. A deserted parking lot, washed in pale yellow light from a single lamp. I park under it, hands trembling on the wheel.

Emily moves in the back seat with sudden intent, her breath unsteady, her posture charged with something fierce and focused. David looks stunned for a heartbeat, then his expression softens into something warm and hungry.

Emily climbs into his lap. Her plaid skirt bunches at her hips, her hands gripping his shoulders with trembling certainty. She leans in and kisses him, hard, decisive, claiming.

I see it only in fragments through the rearview mirror: the tight bun at the back of her head, the way David’s hands steady her waist, the way she leans into him. Then she pulls back just enough to speak, her voice low and shaking with adrenaline.

“Say it again.”

David blinks. “Emily...”

“Say it,” she insists, breath hot against his cheek. “Call me a slut.”

The word hangs in the air like a spark.

David swallows, eyes locked on hers. “You’re such a slut.”

Emily shivers, not with shame, but with recognition. With ownership.

“Good,” she whispers. “From now on, you call me that. But only when it’s the three of us. Only then.”

She turns her head slowly, looking over her shoulder at me. Her eyes are bright, wild, certain.

“You too, Scott.”

My breath catches. I meet her gaze in the mirror. And I smile, small, trembling, full of everything I feel.

"I love you,” I say softly. “My beautiful slut.”

Emily’s lips part, her breath catching. There is a soft sigh, and wet slick sound, and Emily whispers,

"He's in me now, Scott. So big. Filling me." I crane my head to look and she stops me. "No Scott. Not tonight. I'm just for him tonight."

I keep my eyes forward because Emily told me to, but the car feels like it’s closing in around me. The rearview mirror shows only silhouettes, Emily pressed close to David, her blouse shifting, David’s hands steadying her. Then her voice comes, low and trembling, sharp enough to cut straight through me.

“David… you have no idea what you do to me. You make me feel things Scott never has. Not once.”

My breath catches. The words hit like a blade. Emily doesn’t stop.

“You touch me like you actually know me. Like you’ve studied me. You make me feel alive. You make me feel wanted. You make me feel like a woman.”

My chest tightens until I can barely breathe. Jealousy burns hot and bright,  but beneath it, my passion rises, heavy and overwhelming. This is the pain I asked her for. The pain I need.

Then she says the words that shatter me completely.

“Make me yours.”

David’s voice follows, slow and deliberate, as if Emily isn’t even there, as if he’s speaking directly to me.

“You hear that?” I swallow, unable to answer. “She wants me. She says she belongs to me.”

My breath trembles.

Then he uses the title she claimed for herself, the one she demanded he use.

“My slut.”

I keep my gaze fixed on the windshield, but the world outside feels thin, distant. The air in the car has changed. It’s charged in a way that makes my pulse stumble.

Not a sound. A scent.

Emily’s scent.

Feminine, salt‑sweet, like bruised flower petals warmed by skin, with an earthy undercurrent that only appears when she’s overwhelmed. It drifts forward from the back seat in slow, invisible waves, settling around me, sinking into me.

That scent has always been private, something on her when she leaned into me, something that clung to our sheets after quiet mornings, something that felt like a secret written just for the two of us.

But now it isn’t just mine.

It fills the car. It wraps the air around David. It marks the space behind me with a softness that doesn’t belong to me alone anymore. Even her scent, that intimate, wordless part of her, is being shared.

Then Emily’s voice breaks through everything, raw, unrestrained, shattering.

“David!”

My grip tightens on the steering wheel until my hands shake. David’s voice cuts through the air. Low. Rough. Claiming.

“She’s mine now, Scott.”

My breath trembles. David pauses, as if savoring the moment, then forces out the words again, slow, deliberate, each one a blow straight to my chest.

“She’s. My. Slut. Now.”

My entire body shudders.

The car finally goes quiet.

Not peaceful quiet, the kind that comes after a storm, when the air is still vibrating with everything that just happened. I sit frozen in the driver’s seat, breathing in the heavy, lingering atmosphere. 

I hear movement behind me. soft, slow, deliberate. Emily shifting. Breathing. Gathering herself. Then the sound of the back door opening breaks the silence like a crack of light. I don’t turn. I don’t dare.

Emily steps halfway out of the car, sitting on the edge of the back seat with her feet planted on the pavement. 

Her voice comes, steady, commanding.

“Scott. Kneel.”

I don’t hesitate. I don’t question. I open the driver’s door, step out into the cool night, and walk around the car with trembling legs. I lower myself to my knees at her feet, the pavement cold beneath me, my heart pounding so hard it hurts. And I feel completely, utterly alive.

“I have something I want you to do,” she says softly. Emily shifts her posture, opening her knees to draw me forward. Her hand slides to the back of my head, fingers threading into my hair as she gently guides me closer.

“Come here,” she murmurs, warm and unhurried.

I move instantly, breath trembling as she brings me close, close enough to see everything she has just shared with David. Her pussy is a shadow beneath her skirt, glistening with reflected light from the streetlamp.  She pulls me forward and I lick her. I don't want to. I hate knowing what I'm tasting. But I also want it more than I've ever wanted anything. I bury my face deep. Emily gasps then gently pulls me back. Emily tilts my chin with her fingertips.

“You wanted this,” she says softly. “You wanted to know what it’s like right after I’ve been with him.”

I swallow, nodding.

“Then tell me,” she whispers. “What do you taste?” 

My voice cracks. “It’s… stronger than I expected. Sharp. Masculine.”

Emily’s lips curve, pleased. “That would be David.”

Behind her, David rests a hand on her hip, watching me with a slow, satisfied smile. Emily pulls my face back between her legs. I hesitate. Then lick her again.

“Taste her deeply, Scott. Eat all of me out of her. ” David says, tone almost playful. 

My breath hitches. Emily’s fingers tighten gently in my hair, holding me exactly where she wants me.

“That’s right,” she murmurs. “Stay with it. Let it sit with you. Let it remind you who was with me.”

David chuckles softly, leaning in just enough for me to hear him clearly.

“Taste me,” he says. “Taste how deeply I fucked her."

Emily’s fingers tighten again in my hair.

“Stay right there,” she murmurs, low and steady.

I obey, breath trembling, my hands resting uselessly at my sides. Licking at her. Tasting him. Her breathing shifts, soft, uneven, her body responding to the attention she allows me to give. She keeps her hand firm on the back of my head, keeping me close.

Emily’s breath catches, a small, involuntary sound, and her fingers curl more tightly in my hair.

Her body relaxes, releasing completely. And then, with a soft, shivering exhale, she whispers:

“David…”

​

 I never get used to the contrast.

On Sunday mornings, Emily sits beside me in church with her hands folded neatly in her lap, her cross resting just above her collarbone, her eyes soft and attentive. She looks like everything a church wife is supposed to be, gentle, devout, modest, composed.

But away from the church, and from prying eyes, she is unrestrained. In our private space, in our garage, with its dirty mattress that she has set aside for her trysts, she is fierce, wild, undone.  

When we get home from church, we meet David, my best friend, in the garage. I stand in the dim corner and watch as Emily and David strip. Hurriedly, anxiously. Emily gets on her hands and knees on the mattress, offering herself David. David takes her from behind. There is no preamble. No foreplay. Emily is ready for him. She has been thinking about this moment all morning.

David grabs her by the hips and pulls her close. She gasps as he slides in, then she moans in soft rhythm as he slowly fucks her.

I stand to the side. Watching. My belly aches with jealousy. I feel nauseous watching my best friend fucking my wife. Jealous that he could take her so easily, that he could make her moan so effortlessly. But along with jealously, I'm on fire with arousal. This is my deepest, darkest, secret fantasy. That my wife would submit to this, for me, burns a path along all my nerves until I could hardly breathe. 

David looks up at me, a slow smile spreading across his face. Normally he ignores me when he's fucking my wife. But this time he meets my gaze. He doesn't slow down; he keeps the slow rhythmic pace that works perfectly for Emily. 

“She’s a good slut, isn’t she?” he says. Emily had given him permission, in this secret world, to call her a slut. He intends to use the privilege to its fullest. 

I swallow, my voice low, steady, honest.

“Yeah,” I say. “She is.” Emily moans in agreement. 

“Scott. Touch her.”

For a second I don't understand. The words don't fit into the world I know. I’ve always watched. I've waited until David finished, until he was done using my wife, then taken my turn. But now David told me to step into the moment itself. 

My breath catches. It feels wrong somehow, like intruding on their private moment. Like cheating. 

I look at her, at the way she gives herself so completely, and something inside me twists. She is my wife. My partner. My secret. And yet touching her now feels like the most transgressive thing I could do.

I reach out slowly; almost afraid she might flinch. When my fingers brush her back, the shock isn't physical, it is emotional. 

She doesn't pull away. She doesn't tense. She makes a sound, soft, unrestrained, unmistakably hers, and the sound goes straight through me.

I move my hand a little more, tracing the shape of her, feeling the warmth of her skin beneath my palm. I slide my hand around, cup her full breast. Her nipple is hard against my palm.

Then she moans David’s name.

Not mine. His.

The sound hits me hard. Not painfully, not at all. It is honest. It is real. It is part of the world we’d built together. But hearing it while my hand was on her made something inside me twist in a way I couldn’t name.

Then David speaks again.

“Scott,” he says. “I want you to finger her ass. Slide a finger deep into her asshole. She needs to feel how much of a slut she really is. ”

Emily moans in protest. She had never allowed me to touch her asshole before. Never even hinted at it. 

David doesn't soften. His voice stays steady, commanding in a way that made the air feel heavier.

“You’ll take it,” he tells her. “And you’ll like it.”

Her response shocks me, a moan that was unmistakably agreement. A surrender. 

I feel my heart pounding, my hands trembling. I move closer. I feel David beside me. Closer than we'd ever been. Close enough that I feel the movement of his body in the air, close enough that I sense the confidence radiating off him. 

I slide my right hand around Emily's smooth, perfect ass, move towards her asshole. I feel her tense beneath me, even as her body rocks under David. The angle was awkward, sandwiched between their heaving bodies. I move slowly and touch her tight puckered hole. I feel her tension beneath my finger.

"Do it. " David says. There is no room for hesitation in his command. I push inside her, felt her for the first time.  She is tight and yields only reluctantly. But inside she is unlike anything I imagined. Her ass grips the length of my finger, clenching against me. And she is hot. Inside her ass the heat is unbelievable, almost unbearable. I gasp. Emily grunts. To my surprise, she pushes back against me, driving my finger and David's cock deeper inside her.

I don't know what to expect. This is new for me. The sensation is so very different than anything I'd imagined. Emily feels soft, delicate, dangerously fragile. I'm overcome with terror that I will hurt her, but the arousal is intense. Almost blinding.

I feel David's motion through Emily's body. Not in a vague, generalized sense. I feel everything. It is terrifying and exhilarating. I feel the hardness of his cock, the ridge of his head as he pulls back. It is the closest I've ever been to another man's cock. Emily moans at how tight it is. David moans as well. He loses control. He pumps into my wife. Hard and fast. Then he slams deep, pushing my finger deeper into Emily's ass. I feel his cock pulsing inside her as he cums, unloading his sperm into my wife.

With a gasp he pulls out and falls back. The first time he has ever finished before Emily. Emily collapses forward onto the mattress, my finger sliding from her ass. She whimpers she feels me leaving her. 

David doesn't give either of us time to process. He stands over us with that same calm confidence he always carried, even after he just came. 

“You’re not done,” he says. “Either of you.”

Emily lifts her head slightly, her breathing ragged, her hair falling out of its bun. She doesn't speak. The way she responds to David’s voice is immediate and instinctive. She moves her hand back between her legs, rubbing her clit even as David's cum drips from her on to the mattress.

I react too, grabbing my cock, jacking off furiously at the sight of my wife fingerings her well used pussy. 

I hear my own heartbeat in my ears. I feel the weight of David’s gaze on me. Emily moans and her fingers get frantic. I feel a rush surge over me and I explode. I cum on her ass, on her hand, on the mattress, finishing almost at the same moment she did.

David doesn't linger.

One moment he is standing over us, the air still thick with everything that had just happened, and the next he is turning toward the door, moving with that same calm certainty he always carried. He doesn't look back. He doesn't need to. His voice is enough.

“Clean up the slut.”

The door shuts behind him, and the garage falls into a heavy quiet. Emily lies collapsed on the mattress, her breathing uneven. She looks undone, emptied out by the intensity of the moment. 

I find a paper towel and gently clean her back. I help her unsteadily to her feet and into the house. David was already running a bath for her and he had beer waiting for me.

"Pizza is on the way," he tells us, as if it is the most normal Sunday in the world. Such contrast.

The moment is still vivid in my mind. Emily and David on the filthy old mattress in the middle of the garage. Completely nude, both covered in a light sheen of sweat. The garage was swelteringly hot. The three big work lamps that lit them only added to the heat. 

Emily. My amazing wife. We'd been a couple since we met as teenagers. We'd grown up in the same church. We had, until recently, been very devout. But I'd confessed my darkest secret to Emily. I wanted to watch her with David. David had been my best friend since childhood. He'd met Emily around the same time that I had.

David had always been amazingly confident, completely sure of himself in everything he did. I wanted to see what he could evoke in my wife. Emily had been a bit reticent. It went against our faith. But she'd slowly discovered her own desires, and they'd been having sex for about a month now. 

David had come over today. Unannounced. Unexpected. We'd been at church in the morning but were doing yard work when David arrived. He hadn't said anything. He'd just nodded in the direction of the garage. Emily had put down her tools and we'd gone inside. 

Emily had started to go up the stairs to shower and change. David had shaken his head. She walked into the garage instead, turning on the work lamps to highlight the mattress.

Emily undressed a little reluctantly. David was only the second man, after me, to see her naked, and she was still very shy. But her body was amazing. She was trim, with perky breasts and perfect skin. She had wild brown pubic hair and amazing legs. David watched her undress almost with indifference. Like he was used to gorgeous women stripping for him. When she was naked, he quickly stripped off his own clothes and stepped over to her. David was tall and fit, almost as pale as Emily. He tilted her chin up and kissed her like she belonged to him. Her eyes met mine for a moment, then closed, focusing on the moment. 

They kissed softly at first. Her wedding ring glinting as she buried her fingers in his hair, pulling him closer. The kiss deepened. David shifted, pulling her in close and Emily responded without hesitation. Their breathing changed, growing heavier, more deliberate. The soft, tentative kiss became something fuller, more certain. 

David moved again. He guided Emily's hand over his chest, down his stomach, to his hard cock. David was bigger than me. Longer, thicker, heavier somehow. He thrust towards her as she moved closer. She started to stroke him. Her hands were covered in dirt from the garden. A reminder of ordinary life, life outside this garage. He reacted to her soft strokes, pushing forwards, pushing towards her belly.

David’s hands rose to her shoulders. His touch was confident, the kind of gesture that assumed she’d follow his lead. And she did. She was inexperienced in moments like this, still learning how to interpret the cues, still discovering what a different man expected from her. But David didn’t hesitate. He applied gentle pressure, and she let herself be moved, her knees sinking into the worn, stained mattress. The sight hit me harder than I expected. Her messy bun slipped, strands falling around her face. 

David placed his hands on her head. Not forcefully, but with a clear intention. He guided her forward, slow and deliberate.

I felt my breath catch. Part of me expected her to hesitate. She always did with me. Moments like this were rare in our marriage, never something she was comfortable with. I braced myself for her reluctance, for her to pull back, for her to look up at him with that shy, apologetic expression she used to give me. But she didn’t.

Emily opened her mouth. She leaned in, following the guidance of David’s hands, taking his heavy cock between her lips. Then she grimaced. It was small, quick, embarrassed. She pulled back, wiping at his cock, trying to clean away the dirt she’d left there. Her cheeks flushed. David didn’t say anything. He just waited. And Emily, after a heartbeat of hesitation, leaned forward again. This time with more certainty. She took him into her mouth. I could hear the soft wet sound of her lips.

David’s jaw tightened and his breathing shifted. He turned his head and looked back at me. It wasn’t gloating. It wasn’t mocking. It was something far more complicated. It was a look that said he knew exactly where he stood in this room. Exactly what role he was playing. Exactly how much power he held in the moment, over Emily, over the situation, over me. His eyes met mine, steady and unflinching. There’s no apology in them. No hesitation. No question.

David pulled back suddenly. Emily let out a soft protest, more confusion than anything else. She looked up at him with her wide hazel eyes. She wasn‘t upset. She simply didn’t understand why he stopped. She would have accepted whatever he wanted.

He placed his hands on her shoulders again, guiding her backward until her spine met the stained mattress. She sank into it without resistance, her dirt‑streaked hand brushing the fabric, leaving a faint smear of earth. David moved between her legs.

Emily’s breath caught.

“Wait,” she said softly. “I haven’t showered.” Her cheeks flush with embarrassment. She tried to sit up, her hand instinctively moving to cover herself. her wedding ring glinting in the dim light.

David didn’t hesitate. “I don’t care,” he said.

Calm.

Flat.

Certain.

Emily froze for a heartbeat. Then she relaxed, sinking back into the mattress, letting him position her exactly where he wanted her. Her breathing grew shallow, her fingers curled into the fabric, and the little cross at her throat shifted with each inhale. David started to lick her. Her eyes widened with surprise. She breathed softly, her back arching just a little. She looked at me. Her eyes locked onto mine with a force that made my chest tighten. She didn’t look away.

Her breathing grew heavier, her chest rising and falling in quick, uneven bursts. Her lips parted. Her eyes stayed fixed on mine, gaze unbroken, unwavering. Then, suddenly, she gasped, involuntarily, almost startled. Her eyes squeezed shut for a heartbeat. Then opened again. Still locked on mine.

Her whole body tensed, then softened, then tensed again. She rode the moment out with her eyes on me, refusing to break the connection, refusing to look away, as if she needed me to witness it, as if that’s part of what made it real.

David lifted his head and looked at her, then he shifted forward, positioning himself above her

He leaned down and kissed her. It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t tentative. It was a claim.

And Emily kissed him back.

It stole my breath away. She would never have allowed me to kiss her after eating her out. But with him there was no hesitation. Her hands rose to his shoulders, dirt smudging against his chest. Her eyes fluttered closed. Her breathing deepened. She knew exactly what she was tasting on his lips.

Her cheeks flushed.

But she didn’t pull away. She kissed him again, deeper this time, her fingers tightening against his shoulders, her body responding to him with a kind of instinctive surrender that makef my chest tighten.

Emily’s voice was barely a whisper. It was thin, trembling, threaded with something raw and urgent.

“Make me your slut.”

David shifted his weight above her. He lowered himself. Not hurried. Not rough. Just in complete control. She almost whimpered as he entered her, stretching her. Her breathing sped up as he moved. Her eyes closed tightly. He looked down at her. Savoring the view. He moved a bit faster, then reached between her legs. Her eyes flew open. This time she didn’t look at me. Instead, her eyes locked with his.  He matched her reactions perfectly, timed it perfectly. He built her to her peak to match his own. They came at the same time. He breathed out her name as he filled her with his cum.

“Em”

My private name for her. My expression of love.

They lay there for a moment. Only a moment, and then David rose off Emily with a kind of abrupt finality, as if the moment has simply ended for him and he’s already moved on. The stained mattress creaked beneath him. Emily lay there, breathing hard. Her eyes were wide, dazed, unfocused.

David looked down at her, then at me.

“I’m done with the slut,” he said. “If you want your turn, take it.”

The words hit me like a physical blow, not because of their cruelty, but because of their casualness. He said them like he was handing off a tool, not a person. Like Emily was something we shared without needing to discuss it. Emily turned her head toward me. Her expression was soft, open, strangely vulnerable. She reached out a hand, the one still smudged with dirt and touched my arm lightly. There was no shame in her eyes. Just invitation.

I couldn’t hold back. I fucked my wife. She was wet. Slick. Open. It’s the first time I’ve fucked her right after David. The feeling was indescribable. The physical embodiment of jealousy and lust. I could feel my friend’s sperm inside my wife and it drove me insane. I couldn’t last. I didn’t want to last. I exploded inside her and collapsed. Emily cradled me to her breast.  

I don’t know how long we stayed that way. Five minutes or eternity. Eventually, we rose. Emily smoothed her hair, wiped her face and adjusted the little cross at her throat.

David was gone.

Not dramatically.

Not angrily.

Just… gone.

We found him in the kitchen. He was standing at the counter, casually assembling a sandwich. No tension in his shoulders. No guilt. No triumph. No shame. Just calm, steady normalcy, as if the garage scene was nothing more than a brief interruption in his day. He glanced at us. His eyes were strangely tender. Filled with love. For both of us. It was unexpected.

“Sorry I called you a slut.” He said to Emily. She blushed.

“I liked it. Here and now. With just the three of us. No one else knowing. I am your slut.”

I knew something was on Emily’s mind the moment David stepped through our front door. She kept smoothing her skirt, touching her wedding ring, glancing at me like she wanted me to say something for her. 

David dropped onto the couch, relaxed, confident, completely at home. Emily hovered near the armrest. I could practically feel her embarrassment radiating off her.

“Um… so… Jenna and I went shopping,” she said finally.

David raised an eyebrow. “Okay?”

Emily tried again, cheeks turning pink. “She… bought me something.”

I could tell she wanted to be bold, wanted to play the part she’s been growing into, but the words tangled up in her throat.

David waited, amused.

Emily inhaled sharply, squared her shoulders, and blurted it out in one breath. “She bought me a vibrator.”

The room went silent.

Emily froze, mortified. She tried to add something, maybe something teasing, maybe something confident, but whatever she meant to say dissolved into a strangled little sound.

David didn’t laugh. He didn’t tease. He just leaned forward a little, eyes bright with interest. “If you’re going to talk about it,” he said calmly, “you have to show it off.”

Emily’s whole face went red. She tried to act unfazed, lifting her chin like she was perfectly composed. “I mean… if you insist,” she said, but her voice cracked halfway through.

Then she bolted.

Not walked. Not strolled.

Bolted.

Her footsteps pounded up the stairs, quick and frantic, like she couldn’t get to her dresser drawer fast enough.

David looked at me, smirking. “She’s adorable when she’s embarrassed.”

I couldn’t disagree.

Emily came down the stairs slowly, clutching the small item in her hand like it was contraband. Her cheeks were still pink, her bun a little messier from how fast she’d run upstairs. She paused on the last step, looking at David nervously.

David didn’t say anything at first. He just watched her, letting the silence stretch until she shifted her weight and touched her cross necklace like she needed courage from it.

Finally, he spoke. “Emily,” he said, calm and certain, “you obviously want something to happen. So you have to make it happen.”

She swallowed hard. She nodded once, tiny and shy, then stepped toward him. Her hand hovered for a moment, unsure, then she reached out and took his.

“Okay,” she whispered.

David stood, letting her guide him. She didn’t look back at me, but I followed anyway, a few steps behind. She led David through the hallway, past the kitchen, toward the door to the garage.

Once inside, Emily moved over to the mattress on the floor. It was old and filthy. It had new stains on it now. From David and from Emily.

Emily looked at the two of us. Waiting for us to lead her. We watched her in silence. She shook her head with an impatient sigh. She reached back, unzipped her dress, her prim and proper, conservative dress, and let it drop to the garage floor. 

She wasn't wearing sexy lingerie. Plain white panties and a plain white bra. I don't think she'd been planning this, she was just overcome in the moment.

She glanced at us briefly and then stripped off her panties. Quickly, with embarrassment. She moved to put them aside and David silently held out his hand. she looked at him in confusion for a second. then handed him her panties. He didn't look at them, just ran his thumb over the crotch. They were obviously wet. Emily blushed furiously. But we were way past stopping.

Without looking at us she lay back on the mattress. She fixed her eyes on the ceiling and slowly spread her legs. She turned on the vibrator and the sound filled the garage.

There was no lead up this time. No toying with herself, no getting herself ready.  She was already there.

She slid the vibrator down between her legs and rubbed it between her lips for a moment before touching her clit. She gasped when she slid it inside her. Her hips thrust upward and she fucked the buzzing toy. She was soaking. Slick and wet. She gasped once, twice, then sucked in a long breath and held it. He body shook as she pressed the vibrator someplace deep. Her hips bucked upwards, then collapsed against the mattress.

She kept the vibrator inside her, not fucking it anymore, just riding it. Her eyes were open, fixed on David. Her mouth fell open slightly and she licked her. The look she gave David was longing, passionate, demanding, but he just stood there.

"Do you want something Emily?: he asked, She nodded, almost desperately.

"No," he shook his head.  "If you want something you have to say what you want."

Emily didn't know what to say. Didn't know how to say it. She waited hoping David would act anyway but he just stood there.

She moved the vibrator between her legs, touched her clit lightly. She gasped.

"Fuck."

"Fuck, fuck."

"Fuck me, David," she finally said. She gasped as the vibrator slid over her clit

"Fuck me, hard." She looked straight at me, and spoke to him. "Fuck me, David.  Make me your slut. I want to be your slut."

David undid his pants and walked towards her. He knelt on the bed.

"Say it again, Emily, " he told her.

"I want to be your slut, David," she said, her eyes never leaving mine. Hearing my shy church wife using such language drove me insane.

He kissed her cheek. She moved her mouth towards him and they kissed hard. The vibrator dropped to the side, still buzzing, and David thrust into her. Her mouth dropped open. No sound escaped.

He was slow and controlled. The exact opposite of what I would have been. He kissed her and caressed her and slowly fucked her. She started to pant. Then to moan. Her body started to twitch beneath him.

He pushed deep as she thrust upwards and with a cry she came.  Her body jerked against the dirty mattress.  David kept his pace exactly the same. Giving her exactly what she wanted until she fell back to the mattress.

When she was done he took his turn. He pumped into her hard. Ruthlessly. With a grunt he exploded into her pussy, filling her with his cum. They lay there, letting his cum drip from her, onto the mattress, adding another stain.

When David finally left Emily let me sit in our bedroom and watch through the doorway as she her cleaned off her vibrator. She had a small secret smile and was almost humming to herself.

When she was done she came out of the bathroom and knelt beside me. She told me to take out my cock. She rested her head on my thigh while I masturbated for her.

"Are you happy?" she asked me.

"Yes," I told her.  "And I'm proud of you."

"Good," she replied.  "I'm David slut now. This is his future. And yours."

I sat on the edge of our bed, trying to look casual. Emily had told me to “wait,” and waiting had never been my strength. I kept glancing at the bathroom door like it might open if I stared hard enough.

It was strange, feeling this kind of sexual anticipation. We’d grown up in the same church, gone through the same youth retreats, listened to the same sermons about modesty and purity. We’d been virgins when we married, proud of it, certain it was the right thing. Only recently had we found the courage to explore who we were beyond all that. I’d told Emily my deepest desire and she’d granted it. She’d fucked my best friend, David, while I watched. It had been amazing. And now, Emily always seemed to glow with an inner light.

The door opened, and Emily stepped out.

“Wow,” I said, because my brain had abandoned me.

She wore a white lace camisole, soft, delicate, almost old fashioned in its sweetness.

She laughed, shy but bright. “It’s… different, right?”

“Different good,” I said immediately, Emily never wore lingerie. “Really good.”

She walked toward me, smoothing the lace at her shoulder. “Jenna picked it out.”

“Jenna? Seriously?”

Emily nodded, cheeks warm. “I was trying on this beige blouse, and Jenna staged an intervention. She shoved this over the curtain and told me to stop being boring.”

My chest tightened in the best way. “Emily… you look beautiful.”

She nudged me with her shoulder, playful. “You haven’t even seen the other things yet.”

I stared at the boutique bags. “There are other things?”

“Oh yes, Jenna got very enthusiastic.” She laughed and slipped back into the bathroom.

The door closed, and I sat there feeling like my heart had been unplugged and plugged back in at a higher voltage. Then the door opened again.

Emily stepped out in a blue satin camisole and shorts set, glossy and soft, trimmed with black lace and tiny bows. She stood with her hands behind her back, suddenly shy.

“I. Wow. Emily. You look… incredible.”

She laughed, embarrassed but glowing. “It’s different again, right?”

“Different amazing. Where did this one come from?”

“Jenna took me to a lingerie boutique.” She sat beside me. “After the camisole, I asked her to pick something bolder. She marched me two blocks down and walked straight in.”

 “Jenna makes amazing choices!”

She nudged my knee, smiling. “Wait until you see the last thing.”

She disappeared into the bathroom again, leaving me alone with my racing heart. Fabric rustled. A soft thump. A muttered curse.

“Everything okay?” I called.

“Yes! Just, hold on.”

Silence. Then a tiny laugh.

The doorknob turned. I sat up straight.

Emily stepped out in a blue lace corset set.  Structured but delicate, intricate lace and sheer panels showing skin in all the right spots, garter straps neat and elegant. Long blue stockings. She stood with her hands at her sides, cheeks warm, eyes bright with nerves and excitement. It was the sexiest thing she'd ever worn. The sexiest thing I'd ever seen.

I swallowed. “Emily… wow.”

Emily stood in front of me. smoothing the lace at her hip. “After the satin set, Jenna just handed me this. I got tangled in the straps trying to put it in. Had to call Jenna in.”

I laughed. “She helped you?”

“Oh yes. It was a bit too complicated for me. She fixed it,” Emily said softly. “Afterwards, she said I looked powerful.”

She looked down at the corset, brushing the lace lightly. She looked up at me again with a blush. “I asked Jenna what the wildest thing she’d ever done was.”

“You did?”

Emily nodded. “I wanted to tell her about fucking David. About how good he was and about how powerful I felt as you watched me. But I didn’t. I kept our secret. Instead I asked her. She told me a story about the church camping trip. Apparently she had a moment with one of the girls.”

I stared. “The devotionals-and-marshmallows trip?”

“She wouldn’t tell me who it was with.” Emily said. “She just said I was adorable when I got scandalized.”

“That sounds like her.”

Emily hesitated, then added, “She teased me. Said she’d do me if she thought I’d be into it.”

I blinked. “She said that?”

Emily covered her face. “Yes! Then she laughed and said she was joking.”

Emily leaned over and pulled a black box with a bow tied on in from one of the bags.

“This is from Jenna. She gave it to me on the way home.” she said, sitting beside me. She loosened the ribbon and lifted the lid. We both froze.

Inside was a small, sleek, delicate vibrator.

Emily’s jaw dropped. “Oh my gosh.”

I stared. “Jenna gave you that?”

“I can’t believe Jenna bought me a vibrator,” Emily whispered.

“I can’t believe she tied a ribbon on it.”

Emily groaned. “She told me to text her when I opened it.” She flopped onto the bed, grabbed her phone and typed out a quick message.

Emily: "What the hell?"

Her phone buzzed instantly. Emily read aloud: “Oh, good. You opened it already. You looked so proud of yourself today I wanted to commemorate the moment." Emily looked at me, flushed with embarrassment. Or with excitement. It was hard to tell. She looked at me for a long moment. Not blinking. Then she smiled.

"I want to feel powerful," she whispered. She lay back. "Watch me, Scott. Watch me."

She didn't need to say it. I couldn't take my eyes off her. She started to caress herself sensuously, running her hands over the corset, caressing from her breasts to the tops of her thighs. When she moved her hands between her legs, she pushed herself further up on the bed and spread her knees. She stroked her pussy over top the fabric of her panties, then went back to caressing her body.

She moved between actions, getting herself worked up, until she was panting and her hips where thrusting every time she moved between her legs.

When she was ready, she looked up shyly at me, then pulled her panties to one side. She picked up the vibrator and turned it on. It buzzed softly. She stroked her thighs with it, the slid it between her lips. She stroked her clit, then slowly slid it deep inside her. She signed in contentment as it entered her. Her face slowly shifted from a shy, demur look to a satisfied smile. She started to slowly move in and out of her pussy, using the fingers of her other hand to lightly stroke her clit.

"It's perfect." She gasped.  She fell silent to enjoy the feeling of the silver sliding in and out of her wet pussy. The pace, both of the vibrator and her fingers around her clit, slowly picked up, getting faster and faster. Her hips raised to meet her thrusts and she moaned in time to her actions. I leaned in close, watching her, hearing her, smelling the delightful faint scent of her pussy.

She pulled the vibrator out and touched it to her clit. Softly, gently. Then harder. Every muscle in her body tensed. Her hips raised and she started to pant. She grabbed the pillow, pulled it over her face and screamed into it. Her body convulsed wildly, her legs spamming as she came. It was beautiful.

She lay against the bed, exhausted.

Suddenly she sat up and grabbed her phone. Her face was flushed, her hair wild. She had me take a picture of her holding the vibrator. It glinted, noticeably wet. Before she could think about it, before she could regret it, she sent the picture to Jenna.

A message came back almost immediately. Emily let me watch as she opened it.

Jenna. Holding up an identical vibrator.

Jenna: Twinsies

The house was dark when I walked in, David a half step behind. There was a small tea light in the entrance, and a handwritten card in my wife's elegant script. 

"Come find me."

It wasn't unexpected. Today was the day that Emily had said she would fulfil my deepest fantasy. David and I both knew where to go, where Emily would be waiting.

We had an old filthy mattress in our garage that we'd been planning on throwing away. Emily wanted to fulfill my fantasy there. She said the mattress mirrored how she wanted to feel. Dirty. Stained.

Emily and I were devout Christians. Or had been. We sort of still were. It was complicated now. 

We'd been virgins when we married. our sex life was amazing, but there was something I'd always wanted, and I finally confessed it to her. I wanted to watch her have sex with David.

I've known David almost my entire life. He's my best friend. He was my Best Man. I've always looked up to him. He's effortlessly confident. He moves through life like he knows exactly what he wants and just takes it. I wanted to watch him take Emily.

Emily had known David since she was a teenager, almost a decade now. She was shocked by my revelation but intrigued. She'd jacked David off while I watched, then given him a blowjob. Tonight, she was ready to take the next step.

Emily had prepared the garage with great deliberation. The filthy mattress was in the middle of the floor. She'd pulled my big work lamps over, so they cast a raw light into the unadorned space. It was stark and unforgiving. There could be no hiding here, no modesty.

Emily stood beside the filthy mattress, her bare feet on the cold concrete. She was so beautiful it made my chest ache. She was wearing the same lingerie she wore for our wedding. A white lace bustier, white garter belt with matching stockings, lacy white panties. She didn't own any other lingerie. Her hair was pulled back in a severe bun, the way she liked it. The small silver cross she wore around her neck glinted in the hard light.

David didn’t hesitate. He stepped forward with the kind of confidence that made my pulse jump. He stopped just before touching her.

"Emily," His voice was firm. His eyes searched her face. "Tell me you want this."

She blushed. She looked at me, then down. She nodded softly. He didn't accept it.

"No. I need to hear you say it."

She lifted her chin. She looked at me. Then she met David's gaze. She spoke calmly and firmly.

"I want to have sex with you while Scott watches." I couldn’t help but gasp. David didn’t look away from her. He just exhaled, slow and steady, and then he leaned in and kissed her, passionately.  He slowly guided her downward until she was lying on the filthy mattress, its roughness a stark contrast her delicate white lace. 

He wasn’t hurried. He took his time, as if he were reading her, learning her, deciding how this moment should unfold. His hands moved with unhurried confidence, exploring the edges of her lingerie, tracing the shape of her through the fabric. He kissed her chin, her throat, the tops of her breasts. Her hand slipped into his hair, guiding him lower with a certainty that startled me.

"Please," She whispered. "Please...just keep going."

David’s smile deepened and he lowered his head again with a kind of deliberate devotion that made my whole body tense with anticipation. David shifted lower, and for a heartbeat I expected him to hesitate, to fumble with the delicate fabric, the way I had on our wedding night. But he didn’t. He had a practiced ease that told me he’d done this before, many times, with other women. 

Emily tensed as he went lower. David sensed it. He paused. He lifted his head and looked up at her, not impatient, not confused, just present, aware of everything she was feeling. In a low voice he said, 

"You're beautiful."

Emily unclenched. Her breath steadied. She let her legs fall open. David slid down and started to eat her pussy. The sound was soft, delicate, unmistakable. Emily reacted urgently, surprisingly. Her back arched, her breath caught, and a sound escaped her. Raw, unguarded, nothing like I'd ever heard from her before. David held on to her softly but firmly. He knew exactly what he was doing. She came against his mouth, hard. 

When the wave finally crested, David lifted his head slightly. He turned just enough to glance at me and his expression shifted into a slow grin. He didn’t have to say anything. The look alone said it all.

He moved above her and kissed her again. I expected her to recoil. She'd never allowed me to kiss her after I'd eaten her out. But she kissed him eagerly.

They made out on the old mattress, their intensity slowly growing. David's hands were restless on Emily's body and she responded to him. her hips started to move in slow lazy circles that I doubt she was even aware of.

He lifted his hand and touched her lips, slipping his fingers gently into her mouth. She froze for a heartbeat, startled, but then instinct took over. She drew them in, wetting them, tasting him. The look he gave her in response was knowing, approving.

When his fingers were wet he moved his hand between her legs. She gasped loudly. She would always bat my hand away if I tried to touch after she came, she was too sensitive. But she spread her legs for him.

"Emily," He said softly. "I need to ask you again,  one last time. Are you on birth control?"

"No." The word was just a breath against his ear.

David studied her for a long moment. Then he reached into his pocket and held up a small foil packet.

"I brought a condom. If you want me to use it, I will."

The word felt stark in the dim garage, almost clinical compared to everything swirling inside us. She shook her head. David's fingers were still restless inside her. I could see that it was hard for her to think. Her hips were bucking towards towards.

"No." She was gasping. "I want this to be bare."

Each sentence was sharp and labored as she struggled through her arousal.

"I need this to be bare."

"It's important...to me"

"...and to Scott!" She came against his fingers, cumming at my name. I was so aroused. So happy. So proud.

David didn't wait any longer. He slipped a small bottle of lube from his pocket and made sure she was soaking. He unbuttoned his pants and took out his cock.  He didn't take off his clothes. I loved that. That something so sacred to Emily, to me, was casual for him

He rubbed the lube on his cock. Emily watched with urgent need. He was so big, so thick. She reached for him. One long slow thrust and he was inside her. My best friend filling my wife with his cock. I couldn’t breathe.

He started to move and Emily grabbed at him roughly, pulling him deeper. She made soft little noises as he thrust. Like she wanted to moan his name but didn't want to hurt me by doing it. She spread her legs wider. Her voice got louder. Her eyes were locked on the ceiling, glazed over.

David leaned down, his mouth brushing her ear, his voice low and grounding.

"This is lust," He whispered. "Not love."

Her eyes cleared a little. She looked over at me. She smiled to see how enraptured I was.

David began to move with a slow, deliberate rhythm, as if he wanted her to feel every moment, every shift, every intention. His patience, his control, was everything I wished I could be. And Emily responded. Incredibly, impossibly, she came again, for the third time.

She broke. Then broke again. Waves of pleasure crashed through her, one after another, so strong she couldn’t hold onto anything but David. She screamed his name, exactly as I'd always dreamt.

And David finally lost control. He pounded into Emily like a savage beast. All poise stripped from him. He grunted wildly, even as Emily shook. She looked at me and I could see a crazy, reckless impulse surged up inside her, bright and sharp. She leaned up, lips brushing his ear, and whispered just loud enough for me to hear:

“Get me pregnant.”

I felt the words hit him, felt the way his body reacted, the way the moment broke open for both of them at once. He thrust deep and filled her, filled my wife, with his cum.

Later, when the house had gone still and David was long gone, we lay on the filthy mattress in the dark. The air in the garage was cool against my skin, but my body still felt warm, humming with the echo of everything that had happened.

I could feel Emily's hand drifting absently over her lower belly, in a soft, idle way, not seeking anything, just… remembering. 

She looked up at me, her eyes shining even in the darkness.

"Am I a slut now?" She asked, very quietly.

"Yes," I told her, equally softly. "You're my slut now."

There was a long silence. Then she grinned wickedly.

"And David's." She paused, as if savoring it. " I'm David's slut now too. 

​

 "David, I want to have sex with you."

Emily's words hit with force of a lightning bolt. David was my best friend since childhood. Emily is my wife. We've been married for more than two years. David had been my best man at our wedding.

Emily and I considered ourselves devout Christians. We'd been virgins when we married and we tried to respect the teachings of the church. So, when Deacon Willams gave a seminar about the importance of honesty in marriage I'd confessed to Emily my secret fantasy. I'd always wanted to watch her have sex with another man. Especially with David. David had always been confident with woman and I couldn't help imagining what he'd coax from Emily. 

Emily had been shocked, horrified and intrigued. Sex with David was, she declared, off limits. But others things, she offered shyly, might be worth exploring. 

Over the next few months Emily and David has fooled around a little while I watched. Emily's strict red line had started to blur. Even so, I hadn't expected Emily to so bluntly announce her thoughts. I stared at her blankly, a fork full of steak halfway to my mouth.

David, with even less warning than I'd had, seemed unfazed. He finished chewing and leaned back. He looked at me for a long moment. Then answered her. Softly, gently, but with absolute confidence. Like he knew this was coming.

"I'd enjoy that very much. I think you will too." Emily looked down at her plate to hide her furious blush. She wasn't used to being bold.

"There are rules." She whispered. David just waited for her to continue. She took a sip of her wine. 

"Scott has to be there." She glanced at me. "This is part of our marriage, not outside it. This is to fufill his fantasy."

"What about you Emily?" David pressed a little. "I don't want to fuck you just for Scott." She blushed again. But this time she deliberately met his gaze.

"It's for me too. Just as much as for him. If not more." She held his gaze for a second. Then quickly moved on. Like she didn't really want to examine what she'd just said.

"No one can ever know." She continued. "Not our friends. Not our family. Not even a priest. Scott and I won't even confess it." David wasn't religious like we were. But he understood what that meant to us. He nodded, matching her gravity. But his eyes were sparkling.

"One last thing." She was so quiet David had to lean forward. "I know it's dumb, but I can't abandon the teachings of the church entirely. Even doing this. We can't use any birth control."

For the first time David's composure cracked. I have to admit that I enjoyed seeing him flustered.

"Emily...what happens if...?

I answered. It was the first thing I'd said since Emily lobbed her bombshell.

"If Emily gets pregnant,  I'll love the child without reservation. You can be involved as much, or as little as you want."

David sat back, stunned into silence. Emily stood and walked  toward him. Her expression was calm, steady, full of something fierce and vulnerable all at once.  I watched,  my breath unsteady, as Emily leaned in and kissed David. It was soft at first, a promise rather than an invitation.

She pulled back for a moment, looking deep into his eyes. Then kissed him again. The second kiss  carried more weight, more heat, more certainty.

Emily finally pulled back, breath unsteady but eyes clear. David looked stunned, not by passion but by the gravity of what had just passed between them. He moved as if to deepen the moment, to push it further, but Emily placed a hand gently on his chest.

"David," she said, her voice soft but steady. "Not tonight."

He froze, confused. 

"We need clear heads to make this choice. It's a big step. We all need to know exactly what we are stepping into."

David slumped back in his chair, dramatically overplaying his disappointment. “You’re killing me here,” he said with a pout so exaggerated it was almost theatrical.

Emily couldn’t help it,  she laughed, the tension breaking just enough to let her breathe again. 

"I like having all the power for once." She told him. She reached below the table and between his legs, stroking him under his jeans. He jumped. Emily's new boldness was still erratic and unpredictable. Then he smiled and relaxed into his his chair. Emily knelt beside him, glanced at me and then crawled under the table. 

David jumped a bit as she undid his pants. Then suddenly sank back with a sigh. I could hear the wet, slick sounds beneath the table as she took him into her mouth. She was being deliberately loud. She wanted me to hear.

David looked over as me as she sucked him. He loved having my wife on her knees, between his legs. His hands disappeared beneath the table as he held her head, guided her into the rhythm he wanted. He started to buck and shake. He held my gaze as his entire body tensed and then relaxed, almost violently, as he came in my wife's mouth. 

Emily scrambled from beneath the table. Trying to look even a little bit dignified. She daintily wipe the corner of her mouth with two fingers. David did up his pants. 

Emily came over to me and kissed me deeply. I could taste David in her mouth. While she kissed me David tucked back into his steak, like what had just happened was the most natural thing in the world.

"Next Friday." Emily told David. "We'll decide by next Friday." Then she pulled me up, towards our bedroom. "Enjoy your steak David."

Church feels different now.

Not because anything there has changed, the hymns are the same, the sermons predictable, but because we have changed.

I'd finally told Emily the truth about what I wanted. I'd told her, my voice shaking, my hands cold, about my fantasy of watching her have sex with my best friend, David.  I'd expected her to laugh, or to be horrified, or to walk out of the room. Instead, she listened. Really listened. And then she surprised me.

She told me she wanted to understand it. To explore it. To see what it meant for us.

She had given David a handjob in our garage. Kneeling on a dirty mattress that was stained with grease, with oil, and now with David's cum. Later, she'd given David a blowjob in the same place. Slowly shedding the inhibitions our religious upbringing had instilled.

Those memories sit with us in the pews every Sunday, hidden beneath her modest dress and my pressed suit. No one around us has any idea. They see a quiet couple, dutiful and devout. They don’t see the secret things we’ve done behind closed doors.

When we got home from church today, Emily slipped her hand into mine. Her touch was light, but there was a tension in it the kind that tells me she’s been thinking about something all morning. She closed the front door softly, like she was sealing the outside world away.

“Come upstairs with me,” she said.  Her voice was calm, but there was something underneath it. Something deliberate. I followed her up the stairs, watching the sway of her modest dress. She pushed open our bedroom door, and the familiar quiet of the room wrapped around us. She turned to me.

“Sit on the bed,” she said gently.

I did. The mattress dipped under my weight, my suit jacket pulling tight across my shoulders. Emily stood in front of me, hands clasped, her wedding ring glinting. Her hair was pulled back in the severe bun she always wore to church. The cross at her throat caught the light, swaying hypnotically.

She lowered herself slowly, deliberately, until she was kneeling in front of me, looking up.

“Scott,” she said, “there’s something I need to tell you.” She reached for me, undid the fly of my pants. Stroked me until I was hard.

Then she reached into her purse and pulled out a small blister pack, the birth control pill.

My breath caught.

She held it like it was something fragile. Something forbidden. Which it was, for us.

“I wanted to tell you like this. I wanted you to see me choosing it.” Her hand was restless on my cock. It was a challenge to focus on her. I swallowed.

“Does this mean you’re… planning something?”

“No,” she said immediately. “Not planning. Just… thinking. Considering. And I want to be ready if I decide anything.” My cock twitched in her hand. She could see my excitement. She gave me wicked grin before continuing in a more serious tone “This is our secret. I don’t want anyone else to know. Not my friends. Not the priest in confession. Not even David.”

That surprised me. “Not David?”

She shook her head. “Especially not David. If anything ever happens with him... if I ever fulfill your fantasy,  I want him to feel the full reality of it. The possibility of pregnancy. The weight of it.” Her voice softened. “I want him to have to face that. And I want you to know the truth while he doesn’t.”

I exhaled slowly. “Emily… that’s intense.”

"It is,” she whispered. “And it excites me. The secrecy. The responsibility. The idea that you’re the only one who knows what’s real.” She touched the pill pack lightly. “I want this to be something that belongs to us.”

I felt something shift inside me, a mix of devotion, fear, and a strange, electric pride. She leaned forward and licked the head of my cock. She'd never done that. Before she gave David a blowjob in the garage oral sex had always been a chore. Now she seemed to savor the taste of my precum on her tongue. My hips bucked upwards towards her mouth. She laughed and pushed me back to the bed.

She looked up at me again. “Scott… I’m not promising anything. I’m not saying I’ll do anything. I’m just saying that I want to be ready."

I nodded, my voice barely there. “I understand.”

She smiled, small, private, conspiratorial.

“Good. Because this is ours. Only ours.”

She stood up suddenly, pushed me back against the bed. she straddled my hips, reached under her dress and slid my cock inside her. I realized that she wasn't wearing panties. That she hadn't been wearing panties all through church.

She popped a pill out of the blister pack. Held it between two finger and watched it as her hips moved against me.

"Put a baby in me Scott. Right now. This might be your last chance. Because if you don't I just might fulfill your dreams. I might become David's personal slut."

It was too much. Hearing my shy, conservative wife call herself a slut pushed me over the edge. I exploded inside her.

She smiled down at me. With great ceremony, almost with reverence, she placed the pill in her mouth. Then she swallowed.

The diner felt far too bright. Sunlight bounced off chrome napkin dispensers, and the smell of frying bacon hung in the air. My wife, Emily, sipped at her coffee, hands trembling a little around her cup. I sat beside her, and my best friend David sat across from us.

Emily and I had always taken our faith seriously. We'd been virgins until our wedding night. Our sex life was great, but the weight of the church was always there.  Recently, after a church seminar on honesty in marriage, I'd told her my deepest secret. I wanted to see her with another man. I wanted to watch her with David. 

She had been hesitant. It definitely went against everything we'd been taught. But she was curious too. About a week ago she'd given David a handjob in our garage while I watched. 

Now she took a breath and looked at David. “I’ve been thinking,” she said quietly. “About what we talked about. About going further.” David leaned in, surprised. Emily’s cheeks flushed. “I’ve been thinking about trying something more… intimate. I’ve been thinking about giving you a blowjob.”

The words landed heavily. David blinked, startled and unsure how to respond. A couple in the next booth pretended not to listen.

David lowered his voice. “Emily… we’re in public.”

“I know,” she said, still flushed but steady. “But I needed to say it somewhere I couldn’t back out.”

Breakfast ended quickly after that. Emily and I drove home in silence. David arrived moments later. We met in the garage, a place Emily had chosen. It felt neutral, not as intimate as our bedroom nor as exposed as a hotel. Emily stood, barefoot, on the old mattress that we'd left in the garage. It was dusty and stained, dirty and seedy. The way Emily wanted to feel.  She had gone upstairs to change, returning in a dark negligee that made her look gorgeous. I'd only seen her in it once before. Her hands trembled slightly, and a flush of nervous excitement colored her face. The cross that she always wore glinted slightly at her throat.

 Intimacy had always been complicated for us, shaped by years of religious restraint, and even small steps outside those boundaries still felt overwhelming. We'd had oral sex before, but it wasn't something Emily enjoyed that much. I was stunned to find us here. Stunned but excited. 

David stood in front of her. I could smell the faint trace of his cologne beneath the garage’s dusty air. He was calm, as always. That steadiness made the moment feel even more real, irreversible. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. He just watched Emily with an unreadable expression. Then he reached for his zipper.

The sound was shockingly loud in the quiet garage, metal teeth parting, slow and deliberate. My breath caught. Something about the fact that he didn’t undress, didn’t even bother to remove his belt or shirt, hit me like a jolt of electricity. It felt… seedy. Improper. Wrong in exactly the way I had been craving without admitting it. There was nothing subtle about this. He wasn’t preparing for intimacy. He was preparing to have my wife suck his dick.  

David slipped his hand inside the open V of his jeans. I’d seen his cock before, of course, the night when Emily jacked him off while I watched. But somehow, in my memory, everything had been blurred by adrenaline and disbelief. I’d been too overwhelmed to take anything in clearly. Now, in the dim garage light, with the dust hanging in the air and the filthy mattress behind him, everything felt sharper.  He cock was bigger than I remembered. Not just longer, thicker and heavier too. Suddenly I felt too warm. My mouth too dry. My heartbeat too loud.

David stepped closer. Emily slowly knelt on the mattress before him. Lowering herself in front of another man while I watched. It felt like crossing a line she couldn’t uncross. She hesitated. Her breath caught, her lips parted, almost instinctively. David held his cock with one hand. He placed the other on the back of Emily's head. Not pressuring her. Guiding her. Her mouth stretched, more than I expected, and she leaned forward.

David shuddered. A full‑body tremor, sharp and involuntary, like he’d been struck by something electric. His breath hitched, raw, surprised, unguarded.

Emily moved slowly at first. Every tiny move felt enormous. Every breath felt too loud. Every second felt stretched to eternity.

She steadied herself. One hand placed on his knee. The other massaged her jaw for a moment. She was already aching from his size. Her wedding ring glinted as she pressed her fingers against her cheek.  

David’s breathing changed. It grew uneven, ragged around the edges, like he was trying to hold himself together and failing by degrees. I could feel the tension in him, the way his body tightened, the way he tried to stay still even though instinct kept pulling him forward. I could tell that he was trying for restraint. He didn't want to scare Emily away, to stop her exploration. 

His hand was still on her head, not pushing, or even guiding anymore, just bracing himself. I could sense him fighting the urge to move. I could hear the way his breath hitched every time she adjusted. His reactions weren’t controlled. They were raw. Immediate. Unmistakable.

His breathing grew rougher. His fingers tightened just slightly in her hair. His whole body leaned toward her without moving at all. Then he began to move with more purpose and everything changed.

He wasn’t rough, not exactly, just more certain, more urgent, as if something in him had slipped past the point of careful restraint. I felt the shift before I understood it, the way his body tightened, the way his breath grew harsher, the way his hand on her head steadied itself with new tension. He wasn’t pushing. But he wasn’t passive anymore either.

Emily started to drool, saliva dripping from the corners of her mouth, down her chin. A strangely intimate mess. Emily flushed hotly. She knew what was happening, what she looked like. 

His breathing broke. Not a gasp, not a groan, just a sharp, ragged exhale that sounded like he was fighting himself, fighting the urge to give in completely. His fingers tightened in her hair. He pulled her closer.  I could see her drop her shoulders, loosen her jaw, lean into the moment. The more she relaxed, the more David trembled. Tiny, involuntary, twitches. 

David shuddered sharply, his hand in her hair twisted, drawing a quiet moan of protest.  A tremor ran through his arm as he was overcome with the kind of urgency that didn’t ask permission because it couldn’t.

He held her head still.

His whole body moved with a force he’d been trying to hold back. Emily's eyes flew open in shock. They began to water. She fought to steady herself, to breathe through the moment instead of panicking. He didn’t notice. He couldn’t. He was too far gone.

His breathing broke apart, ragged and desperate, and then everything inside him seemed to snap at once. His whole body shuddered above her, a raw, involuntary release that told me he’d crossed the point of no return.

He pushed deep. 

Emily inhaled sharply through her nose, trying to stay calm, trying not to choke on the moment. She took long measured breaths as David exploded into her. She closed her eyes. 

She didn’t swallow.

David pulled back and a warm clear trail slipped down her chin before she could catch it. For a heartbeat she froze.

Then, she lifted her chin. And she opened her mouth. 

For a heartbeat she didn’t move. She simply held herself there, mouth open, letting both men see the proof of how completely David had come undone. His cum filled her mouth, more than I thought possible.

It wasn’t crude or taunting, it was pride, pure and bright, a boldness she hadn’t known she possessed. She wanted us to see what she had done, what she had caused, how far she had stepped beyond the woman she used to be.

After a suspended moment she closed her mouth, her cheeks burning, her pulse racing. She swallowed. She ran her tongue across her teeth. Tasting him. And then she grinned. 

 

My wife, Emily, stood in the garage. My beautiful, reserved, wife, in the modest blue dress she wore to church every Sunday. My best friend, David, stood opposite her, a smirk on his face.

About a month ago, after a church seminar about honesty in marriage, I confessed my deepest fantasy to Emily. I wanted to watch her have sex with David. Emily had been shocked. We're devout Christians. We'd been virgins when we got married. We tried to follow the churches teachings about sex. But she was also intrigued. She couldn't hide that. She asked me questions about my fantasy and let me watch her masturbate. Something we'd never done before.

Then...silence. Emily didn't bring it up and I didn't want to push her. A week passed and I tried to forget I'd said anything at all.

Then, one morning, over coffee, she looked at me with serious eyes.

"Scott. Did you really mean what you said? About watching me with David?" I was still embarrassed by the confession. But I wasn't going to lie. I nodded my head affirmatively.

"I can't sleep with him. I just can't." She was so quiet that I had to lean forward. She blushed scarlet. "I can't believe we're even talking about this. What if....what if I gave David a handjob?"

I was stunned. I was speechless. I stared at her blankly for a minute.

"Oh Em. That would amazing." Her blush deepened.

"But," She continued. "if anything is going to happen, you have to be the one to initiate it. Not me." She said it with a suprising level of confidence. She was almost smug in her assumption that I wouldn't follow through. And she was almost right.

It took me a week to gather my courage. Every day I told myself I would do it and every day I lost my nerve. In the end I wasn't the one who moved things forward. David was. He noticed that I was on pins and needles and he pushed to find out why. And I told him. Everything.

He wasn't even surprised. He accepted it like it was completely natural. It was his absolute confidence that sparked the fantasy in the first place. I admired that confidence, envied it, and I wanted to see what it could unlock in my wife.

He told me that he'd never wanted to interfere in my marriage, but he'd had an avalanche of filthy thoughts about Emily over the years. He would love the chance to live them out.

But...the most important part. He wanted to hear it from Emily. To hear that she wanted it too. That she wasn't just fulfilling my fantasies, but her own as well.

So that Friday we stood in the garage. Our bedroom was too sacred for this, a motel too public. Emily had chosen the garage, with a filthy mattress on the floor, as the place she wanted it to happen. And I loved it.

 

 

They stared at each other in silence for a long time. They'd known each other since they were teens. He'd been the best man at our wedding. The tension was overwhelming. To everyone surprise, including her own, it was Emily who spoke first.

"I want to jack you off, David." She'd never been so blunt in her life. "It's Scott's fantasy. But it's mine too. I've never seen another man's cock, or how another man would react to my touch. I want to see that. And I want it with you."

David nodded. As if this was something he was due. That was about as far as Emily's boldness extended. She reached for the buttons on her dress and she began to tremble.

"Relax." David whispered. "You're doing fine." She nodded, almost overcome. The little silver cross around her neck glinted. David moved instead. He pulled his shirt over his head, slowly and deliberately.

Emily responded. She undid the buttons of her dress and let the fabric fall to the floor of the garage. She fastidiously picked the dress up and laid it neatly across the hood of her car. She stood in front of us self consciously in her plain white bra and panties. Then she knelt on the filthy mattress. Directly in front of David.

When David unbuttoned his jeans, Emily’s breath caught. She glanced at me quickly. Hoping I hadn't noticed. But I had. I was overcome with love for her. Filled with pride. This was far beyond our comfortable normal life.

David pushed his jeans down, and then his boxers, and suddenly his cock was out. I'd suspected that he was bigger than I was. But I was still unprepared. He wasn't just longer, but thicker, heavier. The garage felt hot. My heart was pounding in my ears.

David stepped closer and tilted Emily's chin up with one finger, studying her with a small, knowing smile.

"You're curious." he said softly.

She swallowed. "A little."

She lifted her hand, slowly, deliberately, and reached toward him. I could see her heart beating in her throat.

David noticed.

"You're nervous." he said softly, almost amused.

She shook her head, even though it was true.

Her hand closed the final distance. The moment she made contact, everything inside me jolted. Heat rushed up my neck, into my cheeks, down my spine. My stomach flipped so hard I almost gasped.

David inhaled sharply, a low sound that vibrated straight through me. He leaned in, his voice a low murmur really only meant for Emily.

"Good girl."

At first, she moved carefully, almost timidly, afraid of doing too much or too little. Slowly, but surely, her confidence grew.

David’s breathing changed before anything else did. It deepened. Slowed. Thickened. A subtle shift, but unmistakable. Her pace increased just a little. Testing. Learning. Feeling the way David’s breath hitched, the way his body reacted with a subtle, unmistakable tension.

He looked down at her with a slow, approving smile.

“You’re getting the hang of it,” he murmured.

David's body tightened. A subtle tremor ran him. tightening in David’s body. His breath was deeper, rougher. Then he said it.

“Oh, Em…”

My private name for her. That only I'd ever whispered. It hit me harder than anything else.

And then David tensed. Completely. Sharply. His whole body tightening in a way that said he had no control left, no composure, nothing but raw reaction. He let go.

He came into Emily's hand. He came on her chest. Some of it landed warm on the filthy mattress beside her.

She didn't recoil. Instead she was glowing. With pride. With a feeling of satisfaction, of power. She'd crossed a threshold and she been changed. Things weren't ever going to be the same.

It was the church that made us into sinners, although I’m sure that wasn’t their intention.

My wife and I are devout Christians, with all the guilt and rules that implies. We got married very young and we were virgins when we got married. Our sex was great, considering we had no idea what we were doing, but there was always room for improvement.

One Sunday afternoon we attended a seminar at the church about strengthening your marriage. The Deacon went on and on about the value of honesty in marriage and it lodged deep in my mind. We drove home in silence. We had a quiet dinner. We got ready for bed. Finally, my wife, Emily, asked what was going on in my mind.

“The seminar was about honesty in marriage.” I answered. “So, I… I think I should tell you something I’ve never said out loud.”

She smiled, expecting something harmless. “Alright. Tell me.”

“I’ve always fantasized about watching you have sex with someone else.” I told said.

Emily blinked, then let out a small, surprised laugh. “With a woman?” she teased. “That’s hardly shocking. I’m pretty sure every man has that fantasy.”

“No,” I was a little abrupt. “With another man.”

The amusement drained from her face. For a moment she simply stared, stunned. The idea was forbidden, impossible.

“Scott,” she whispered back at me. “That’s… a lot. It goes against everything we’re supposed to believe.”

“I know.” It was a huge relief to have finally said it. But then she asked the question I’d been dreading.

“Have you thought about me having sex with anyone in particular?” For a minute I didn’t know if I could answer.

This was peeling my soul bare. Finally, I said the name.

“David.”

Emily’s breath caught. David had been my best friend since childhood. He’d been my best man. He was practically family.

“David,” she echoed, stunned. She blushed deeply.

“I’ve imagined it for years.” I admitted. Emily stared at me. The idea was impossible. Unthinkable.

“Scott, that’s… a lot.” She repeated. She was at a loss for words. She shifted closer on the bed. “Why David?”

“David has always been confident.” I told her. “In a way that I never have been. Especially with women. He used to tell me everything, every story, every detail. And I’d pretend to roll my eyes, but I listened.”

Emily nodded, waiting.

“There was this one time, at a party. I walked past a bedroom with the door half open. David was inside, having sex with a woman. I knew I shouldn’t watch, but I did. He was so sure of himself. Forceful. And she was loud, Emily. I listened from outside. He gave her multiple orgasms. I’d never imagined it. Ever since then… whenever David told me a story about some woman, I’d imagine it was you instead.”

“Scott…” she whispered. She was quiet for a long time. Then she surprised us both.

“I… like the idea,” she said quietly. “Not actually doing it. Not yet. I’m not ready for that. But the fantasy… the thought of it… I like that.”

I was stunned, almost breathless.

“I just need time,” she added. “Time to think about what this means.”

She slowly slid her hands down her body. She was quivering and I could tell that she was holding back. She didn’t want to seem too eager. But she left the blanket off, let me watch her. This was new ground for us.

“Scott.” she said softly, “Watch me. Please.” Her hand became to move between her legs, under her panties. She started to gasp softly. It was beautiful. She settled back against the pillows. Her voice was soft, tentative.

“If I were with David, what would you want to see?”

I struggled. I didn’t know if I could be that raw. “It’s not easy to say.”

“Tell me anyway,” she murmured.

“I’d want to watch you respond to his confidence. The way you did tonight, just hearing his name. I’d want to watch him make you to orgasm. The way he did for that woman at the party. Over and over. I’ve never forgotten it.”

“How would he make me cum?” She was panting now.

“With his fingers. With his tongue.”

“What about his cock? Would he fuck me?”

“Yes. Hard and deep.” She pulled her panties down, leaving them around one ankle. She spread her legs. I couldn’t believe how excited she was getting.

“Where? Where would it happen?” Her fingers were inside her now. I could hear her wetness.

“Not a hotel.” I was hesitant. I hadn’t gotten this far. “Not our house. Someplace…dirty.” She gasped. Fingers going deep.

She let out a breathy, incredulous laugh. “It would be so messy. Cheating on my husband with someone who’s basically your brother.” Then, after a beat: “What about the old mattress in the garage?”

I twitched slightly. She noticed. She loved it. Her fingers pulled out, rubbing around her clit.

“You like that,” she murmured. Her hips started bucking upwards.

“Yeah. I do. I want you to fuck my best friend. I want you to fuck him on the dirty mattress in the garage. I want…”

“You want me to be his slut.” She gasped. So did I. She’d never used language like before.

“Yes. I want you to be his slut.” At that word she bucked upwards. Hard into her hard. Then again. And again. Her breath got short. Her whole body started to shake.

“I want…” She was almost panting

“I want to be….” Her body was quivering.  The words were hard.

“I want to be David’s slut!!!” She almost screamed as came hard against her hand, saying his name.

 She collapsed to the bed, blushing, sweating, satisfied.

I’m lying on my back on the filthy mattress in our garage. It’s worn and stained. Emily is above me, her body close enough that she fills my entire field of vision. Her thighs frame everything.

The view is something I never imagined that I'd see. My best friends cock in plunging into her pussy. We'd been a devoutly religious couple, until a few months ago, until I'd confessed my deepest desire, to watch my best friend fuck her, and she'd agreed.

I can see her light brown pubic hair, the soft pink of her lips, the hard nub of her clit.  I can see David's hard cock, glistening with her wetness.  I can see his sack, clenching and unclenching as he thrusts. It's all so close to my face, as they fuck above me, that it's almost blurry.  I can smell her, almost taste her, we are so close. The light is bright, almost too intense. We'd set up my worklamps so that I could see this exact view.

She was supposed to be sucking my cock. But she’s forgotten, not out of neglect, but because she been swept away. I can feel her shifting above me, her breath catching, her fingers digging into the mattress. She’s somewhere else entirely, somewhere she goes with David in a way she never goes with me.

I can hear him behind her and above me. I can hear the rhythm of his body, the confidence in every movement. I can see the way her body reacts to him. I can see the way she leans into him without thinking.

Emily’s voice fills the garage. loud, unrestrained, echoing off the concrete walls in a way that makes the whole space feel smaller, hotter, more charged. I’ve heard her lose control before, but never directly above me like this, never with her body shaking so hard that I can feel every tremor through my own skin. Her cry hits me like a physical thing, like a wave that rolls down her spine and into me. Her head drops suddenly, collapsing onto my thigh. I feel the weight of her cheek, the warmth of her breath, the way her hair brushes against me in messy strands. She’s gone somewhere deep, somewhere she can’t think or speak or remember anything except what she’s feeling.

David doesn’t stop. I can hear and feel him. The rhythm of his body, the breath he lets out through his teeth, the steady, confident pace he never loses. He keeps going like her loudness is fuel, like her collapse is encouragement, like he’s been waiting for her to fall apart like this.

The mattress shifts under all three of us, creaking, dipping, pressing into my back in uneven patches. It’s filthy, stained, uncomfortable, and somehow it feels sacred.

Emily’s breath is hot against my thigh. Her fingers dig into the mattress again. Her whole body moves with the force of what she’s feeling,

David’s breath changes. I hear it before I see anything, that sharp, low sound he makes when he’s close, the way his rhythm tightens, the way the air in the garage seems to pull inward around him. I’ve known him long enough to recognize that shift.

David’s whole body locks up behind her as the sudden intensity overtakes him.

His balls clench tightly, close against his body. It’s unmistakable. It’s intimate. It’s overwhelming. And I’m right here beneath them, close enough to see every detail of the moment he finishes with her. He thrusts deep and grunts, low and long. A deep beastial sound as he pumps his sperm into my wife's body.

When he finishes David pulls out. Emily's whole body shudders. A wet pearl of white, David's cum, wells out of her used pussy. It drips on to my chin and I flinch a little.

David's voice cuts through the haze of the garage, low, rough, still shaking from what just happened.

“Scott,” he says, breath still uneven, “you’d better take care of that. Unless you want her carrying my kid.”

My chest tightens.

My breath catches.

My mind races.

Reacting to his voice, Emily rocks back. Her pussy is dirty above me now. She is glistening with his cum.

I feel myself tipping. I shouldn’t want this.

I shouldn’t crave it. But I do.

I know I should be repulsed or ashamed.

I know I should feel something other than this overwhelming need to eat her used puasy.

I pull her close and lick her. Tentatively at first. Then with passionate intensity. She is soft and wet beyond imagining. The taste is an intense mix of masculine and feminine. She feels slick and hot.

Emily’s whole body tightens above me  sudden, sharp, unmistakable. It’s not the wild, loud climax she had earlier. This one is smaller, quicker, almost startled, like something inside her snaps and releases all at once. Her breath catches. Her thighs tremble around me. And I feel her react to me.

Her voice breaks into a soft cry. Not loud, or wild, but joyful and a bit suprised. Her whole body shudders with the force of it. And I’m happy. Not just happy, overwhelmed. Filled with a kind of joy that feels too big for my chest.

Emily stirs above me, slowly coming back from wherever her mind had drifted. Her breath is still uneven, her body still trembling in small aftershocks. She touches my aching cock. It’s barely anything, just her hand moving down, just her fingers brushing me with the gentlest, laziest stroke, like she’s not even thinking about it.

The contact is light, almost accidental, but it's enough. My whole body reacts instantly. It happens fast. Embarrassingly fast, beautifully fast, because I’m already overwhelmed, already full, already stretched thin by everything I’ve seen and felt tonight. Her touch is the last spark on a fuse that’s been burning since the moment she climbed above me. I cum hard. On her hand and on my thighs. Emily laughs a soft, gentle laugh and collapses against me again.

David steps back. I can hardly see him from this angle. He’s breathing hard, chest rising and falling, sweat shining on his skin. He looks at us, really looks. at the heap of bodies tangled together on the filthy mattress, at the way Emily is collapsed over me, at the way I’m holding her like she’s the center of my universe.

For a moment he’s silent.Then he laughs.

“Fuck,” he says, shaking his head. “I love you guys.”

I’m lying on my back on the filthy mattress in our garage. It’s worn and stained. Emily is above me, her body close enough that she fills my entire field of vision. Her thighs frame everything.

The view is something I never imagined that I'd see. My best friends cock in plunging into her pussy. We'd been a devoutly religious couple, until a few months ago, until I'd confessed my deepest desire, to watch my best friend fuck her, and she'd agreed.

I can see her light brown pubic hair, the soft pink of her lips, the hard nub of her clit.  I can see David's hard cock, glistening with her wetness.  I can see his sack, clenching and unclenching as he thrusts. It's all so close to my face, as they fuck above me, that it's almost blurry.  I can smell her, almost taste her, we are so close. The light is bright, almost too intense. We'd set up my worklamps so that I could see this exact view.

She was supposed to be sucking my cock. But she’s forgotten, not out of neglect, but because she been swept away. I can feel her shifting above me, her breath catching, her fingers digging into the mattress. She’s somewhere else entirely, somewhere she goes with David in a way she never goes with me.

I can hear him behind her and above me. I can hear the rhythm of his body, the confidence in every movement. I can see the way her body reacts to him. I can see the way she leans into him without thinking.

Emily’s voice fills the garage. loud, unrestrained, echoing off the concrete walls in a way that makes the whole space feel smaller, hotter, more charged. I’ve heard her lose control before, but never directly above me like this, never with her body shaking so hard that I can feel every tremor through my own skin. Her cry hits me like a physical thing, like a wave that rolls down her spine and into me. Her head drops suddenly, collapsing onto my thigh. I feel the weight of her cheek, the warmth of her breath, the way her hair brushes against me in messy strands. She’s gone somewhere deep, somewhere she can’t think or speak or remember anything except what she’s feeling.

David doesn’t stop. I can hear and feel him. The rhythm of his body, the breath he lets out through his teeth, the steady, confident pace he never loses. He keeps going like her loudness is fuel, like her collapse is encouragement, like he’s been waiting for her to fall apart like this.

The mattress shifts under all three of us, creaking, dipping, pressing into my back in uneven patches. It’s filthy, stained, uncomfortable, and somehow it feels sacred.

Emily’s breath is hot against my thigh. Her fingers dig into the mattress again. Her whole body moves with the force of what she’s feeling,

David’s breath changes. I hear it before I see anything, that sharp, low sound he makes when he’s close, the way his rhythm tightens, the way the air in the garage seems to pull inward around him. I’ve known him long enough to recognize that shift.

David’s whole body locks up behind her as the sudden intensity overtakes him.

His balls clench tightly, close against his body. It’s unmistakable. It’s intimate. It’s overwhelming. And I’m right here beneath them, close enough to see every detail of the moment he finishes with her. He thrusts deep and grunts, low and long. A deep beastial sound as he pumps his sperm into my wife's body.

When he finishes David pulls out. Emily's whole body shudders. A wet pearl of white, David's cum, wells out of her used pussy. It drips on to my chin and I flinch a little.

David's voice cuts through the haze of the garage, low, rough, still shaking from what just happened.

“Scott,” he says, breath still uneven, “you’d better take care of that. Unless you want her carrying my kid.”

My chest tightens.

My breath catches.

My mind races.

Reacting to his voice, Emily rocks back. Her pussy is dirty above me now. She is glistening with his cum.

I feel myself tipping. I shouldn’t want this.

I shouldn’t crave it. But I do.

I know I should be repulsed or ashamed.

I know I should feel something other than this overwhelming need to eat her used puasy.

I pull her close and lick her. Tentatively at first. Then with passionate intensity. She is soft and wet beyond imagining. The taste is an intense mix of masculine and feminine. She feels slick and hot.

Emily’s whole body tightens above me  sudden, sharp, unmistakable. It’s not the wild, loud climax she had earlier. This one is smaller, quicker, almost startled, like something inside her snaps and releases all at once. Her breath catches. Her thighs tremble around me. And I feel her react to me.

Her voice breaks into a soft cry. Not loud, or wild, but joyful and a bit suprised. Her whole body shudders with the force of it. And I’m happy. Not just happy, overwhelmed. Filled with a kind of joy that feels too big for my chest.

Emily stirs above me, slowly coming back from wherever her mind had drifted. Her breath is still uneven, her body still trembling in small aftershocks. She touches my aching cock. It’s barely anything, just her hand moving down, just her fingers brushing me with the gentlest, laziest stroke, like she’s not even thinking about it.

The contact is light, almost accidental, but it's enough. My whole body reacts instantly. It happens fast. Embarrassingly fast, beautifully fast, because I’m already overwhelmed, already full, already stretched thin by everything I’ve seen and felt tonight. Her touch is the last spark on a fuse that’s been burning since the moment she climbed above me. I cum hard. On her hand and on my thighs. Emily laughs a soft, gentle laugh and collapses against me again.

David steps back. I can hardly see him from this angle. He’s breathing hard, chest rising and falling, sweat shining on his skin. He looks at us, really looks. at the heap of bodies tangled together on the filthy mattress, at the way Emily is collapsed over me, at the way I’m holding her like she’s the center of my universe.

For a moment he’s silent.Then he laughs.

“Fuck,” he says, shaking his head. “I love you guys.”

The morning is warm and quiet. I wake slowly. Emily is already moving beside me. There’s a charge in her, a kind of anticipation she doesn’t say out loud, but I can feel it in the way she breathes. David is coming over tonight. 

David is my best friend. I'd confessed to Emily my secret fantasy of watching her fuck him. After a lot of soul searching and prayer, Emily had agreed. We were very devout. We'd even been virgins when we married. Emily's experiences with David had opened a whole new universe for us. 

I reach for her without thinking. She melts into me, and for a moment it’s just the two of us, the room gentle and familiar. Since she's started sleeping with David our libidos have soared. We can hardly stop touching each other. 

I slide my hands down her body. Between her legs. She opens enthusiastically. I stroke her softly. Then with increasing pressure and speed. She cums hard against my hand, her legs clenching in pleasure.

I see it when I pull back. Smears of red on my fingertips. My stomach drops.

“Emily…” I whisper.

She looks at me, confused for a second, then her face falls. “Oh. I must’ve started this morning. I didn’t realize.”

I nod too fast, trying to look calm. I've never been comfortable with her period. I keep my eyes on her face instead of my hand, jaw tight, forcing myself to stay close.

“I’m sorry,” she says softly, taking my hand like she’s grounding me.

“It’s okay,” I manage, even though my voice shakes. “I just wasn’t expecting it.

I know my reaction is childish. I know it. I just can't help it. I try to move with a semblance of dignity as I hustle to the washroom to wash up. When I return Emily brushes past me. She doesn't meet my eyes. It feel it like a cold draft.

A few month ago, she would’ve laughed softly, told me it was okay, brushed my cheek and made the whole thing disappear. But she’s different now  stronger, more aware of herself, her body, her boundaries. And I love that about her. I’m proud of it. But it means she doesn’t cushion me anymore. She doesn’t shrink herself to make room for my discomfort.

The bathroom door opens. Emily leans her head out.

"Scott. We're out of tampons up here. Can you grab one from the downstairs bathroom?" She has a strange little smirk. I'm confused. I could have sworn I saw a box earlier. 

I fetch her a tampon from the downstairs bathroom. Hand it to her through a crack in the door. She has the same smirk. If anything, it's wider now. I realize that she's messing with me. Mocking my discomfort.

The morning is awkward. I keep trying to find the right moment to apologize, but I can't quite figure out the words. 

By late afternoon, the silence between us feels like a wall I built without meaning to. When the doorbell finally rings, I flinch. The sound cuts through the quiet like a blade.

David steps inside with his usual easy confidence, smiling like nothing in the world could possibly be complicated. The whole energy of the house shifts around him. Emily straightens, her expression smoothing into something warm and open in a way it hasn’t been with me all day.

“Been looking forward to tonight,” he says. He brushes his fingers across her cheek intimately. Emily leans into the touch momentarily, then steps back and shakes her head. David looks at her in puzzlement. 

“Well…" She takes a long moment to figure out what to say.  "You didn’t get me pregnant this month.” She smirks again. 

My whole body goes rigid. Hearing her saying something so bluntly hits me in the chest. David just blinks, surprised.

“I got my period today." She clarifies. "It's early."

"So?" David seems genuinely puzzled 

"I thought you’d want to cancel.”

David raises an eyebrow. “Why would I do that?”

I watch her hesitate. “You’re… okay with it?”

He shrugs. “It’s normal. Doesn’t bother me.”

The ease in his voice makes something twist inside me. Not jealousy, something quieter, more complicated. He’s calm. Unshaken. Everything I wasn’t this morning.

Emily’s shoulders loosen. I see it happen. Relief. Confusion. A flicker of something I can’t name.

“We’re not having sex tonight,” she says. "I'm not ready for that "

David’s disappointment shows for a moment, but he doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t look away. He just nods. “It’s your call.”

And that, that calm acceptance, makes her look at him differently. I see it. I feel it. 

She turns to him. “Come with me.”

My stomach tightens. I follow them, silent, unsure, the distance between me and Emily widening with every step. She holds David’s hand. She doesn’t look back at me.

The garage feels colder than usual. The air is thick, charged, like something is about to shift again. Emily stands there with David, steady and deliberate, and I feel like I’m watching a moment I don’t fully understand.

She slowly kneels on the cold concrete in front of David. She doesn't say a word. She reaches out and unbuttons his jeans. She pulls his pants and underwear down to his ankles, helps him step out of them. His cock is hard and throbbing. She jacks him off for a moment, then rests his cock against her face. She smiles broadly. Her cheeks glisten with her precum.

She licks the length of his cock. She is giving me a show, making a point. She takes David into her mouth. Then she takes him deep. Into her throat. She'd rewarding him.

David moans and pulls her close. He doesn't know why he's being rewarded. He doesn't care. He just enjoys it. 

She tries to keep throat fucking him, but it's new to her. She pulls back a little, licks the head of his cock, teases him with her lips. He looks at me and smiles.

"She is getting really good at this, eh?" He smirks down at her. "Just like the slut she really is."

If anyone else had called Emily that, she would have been furious. With David, it only made her more enthusiastic. She picks up her pace, her head bobbing frantically now. David grips her hair to steady himself. He groans. Then explodes. His hips buck frantically against Emily's face. She takes it all.

When he is done, Emily looks up at us and smiles. She opens her mouth, sticks out her tongue and shows us David's cum filling her mouth. Then she swallows. 

She gets to her feet.

"Next time," she tells David. "Next time I'll be ready to fuck."