u/Red-Rhino55

We invited both of them over.

They showed up around eight. A few drinks, some normal conversation, the usual “how’s everyone doing” small talk that felt almost ridiculous given what we all knew was about to happen. My wife was in a short robe with nothing underneath. When the conversation died down she stood up, untied it, and let it fall open.

She looked at me, then at them, and dropped to her knees.

I hesitated for maybe two seconds. Then I got down on the floor right next to her.

We sucked their cocks together.
It was messy and hot and better than I’d even imagined when she first brought it up. She took my friend’s cock into her mouth while I wrapped my hand around the other guy’s and leaned in. The first time I felt him on my tongue my wife made this soft, encouraging little sound and reached over to stroke the base while I worked the head.

Then we switched. She pulled off one and guided me to it, kissing me first so I could taste him on her lips before I took him into my mouth.
We traded back and forth like that for a long time.
Sometimes side by side, each of us focused on one of them.

Sometimes sharing the same cock—licking up opposite sides, taking turns sinking our mouths down on it, kissing around the head.
She held them together at one point so we could both lick and suck them at the same time. When one of them got close she looked at me and simply said, “Take it.” I did. He came on my tongue. She immediately pulled me into a deep kiss and shared it, then went to the other one and finished him the same way so I could watch.

After that they pulled her to the couch and the real fucking started.
I stayed close the entire time. One of them would bend her over and slam into her from behind while the other fucked her mouth. They’d switch. They’d spank her ass and call her a good fuck while I watched and stroked myself. At one point they both pushed into her—one in her pussy, one pressing into her ass—and she came so hard her legs gave out. I was right there, holding her, feeling her shake between them.

When they were done using her for a while she reached for me. She was dripping, marked, completely wrecked in the best way. She pushed me onto my back, climbed on top, and rode me while both of them watched. One of them stepped closer and she sucked him clean while she kept grinding on my cock. I came inside her with the taste of them still in the air and her mouth full of someone else.

I fucked up.

Last night I was in bed scrolling on my phone while she was in the shower. Just browsing nudes on Reddit, like I sometimes do when she’s not around.

She walked out in her towel, saw the screen, and just stood there.

Just looked at me for a long second, then said, real calm:
“Okay.”

She got dressed in a tight little black dress I hadn’t seen in months, put on makeup, and left without another word. I sat there like an idiot for almost three hours.

Around 1 a.m. the door opened. She came in smelling like cologne that wasn’t mine, hair a little messy, lipstick gone. She kicked her heels off, climbed onto the bed still in the dress, and straddled my lap like nothing had happened.

“You wanted to look at other women’s bodies,” she said. “So I went and used mine.”

Then she told me everything.
She’d gone to a bar about twenty minutes away. Sat alone, ordered a drink, didn’t have to wait long. Some guy in his early thirties—taller than me, broader, the kind of confident that doesn’t need to try hard—started talking to her. She told him she was married. He didn’t care. She didn’t either.

They left together after two drinks. His place was close. She said the second the door closed he had her against the wall, mouth on her neck, hands already under the dress. No slow build. He pulled her panties aside and felt how wet she already was, then just pushed inside her right there in the hallway.

She described it in that low, steady voice she uses when she’s serious. How thick he felt. How he didn’t ease in—just filled her in one hard thrust and started fucking her against the wall like he owned it. She said her legs were shaking by the time he carried her to the bed. He put her on her knees, face in the sheets, and took her from behind. Hard. Deep. She said he kept one hand in her hair and the other gripping her hip hard enough to leave marks.

She came once like that. Then he flipped her over, pushed her legs up, and kept going. She said she could feel every inch, the way he stretched her, the wet sounds, the way he talked to her the whole time—calling her a good little married slut, telling her how tight she was, how her husband was an idiot for looking at pictures when he had this at home.

She came again while he was still inside her. Then he pulled out, flipped her onto her stomach, and finished across her lower back and the top of her ass. She said she just lay there for a minute after, feeling it cool on her skin, before she cleaned up enough to put the dress back on and come home.

She was still sitting on my lap when she finished talking. Looking right at me. Waiting.
I didn’t know what the fuck to say. My heart was hammering and my cock was so hard it hurt. She felt it. She smiled—small, mean, satisfied—and said:
“Next time you want to look at other women, just remember what I can go do about it.”
Then she got up, went to the bathroom, and started the shower like it was any other night.

So I’ve always been straight and never wanted to do stuff with a guy. But there’s something about being a cuck that makes me want to suck dick and maybe even swallow cum.

It seems like other cucks end up doing this kind of thing. But I’m not sure how to feel. Should I go through with it?

She came out of the bathroom after her shower, hair still damp, and crawled into bed with me. We started slow. Kissing. Hands roaming. The kind of unhurried touching we haven’t really done since this whole thing started.

Then she swung a leg over me, sank down onto my cock, and started riding me in long, deep strokes. She leaned down so her mouth was right next to my ear.
And she started talking.

“I keep thinking about how they used me,” she whispered, hips rolling. “The way they spanked my ass and called me a good fuck… I loved it. I loved knowing that you love it too.”

I groaned and gripped her hips. She kept going, voice low and steady even as she took me deeper.
“I loved being full of both of them. Feeling one of them come inside me while the other was still hard and waiting.

“I want them to do it again,” she murmured. “I want them to bend me over and smack my ass until it’s red while you sit there and stroke your cock. I want them to take turns filling me up until it’s running down my thighs… and then I want you to fuck me after, just like this, so you can feel how sloppy they left me.”
Her pace picked up. She was getting close, but she didn’t stop talking.

“I want you to watch me suck them. I want you to see the spit running down my chin when they face-fuck me. And when they’re done using my mouth, I want to come over to you and kiss you with the taste of them still on my tongue. Would you like that? Tasting them on me while you’re inside me?”

I was throbbing inside her. She clenched around me and kept going, voice turning even dirtier.
“I want to be their fucktoy while you watch. I want them to talk about how good my married pussy feels. I want them to tell you how tight I am while they’re buried in me. And I want you hard the entire time, knowing that when they’re finished I’m going to crawl to you and beg for your cock too.”

She sat up then, hands on my chest, riding me harder, tits bouncing, eyes locked on mine.
“Next time they come over I want you to help them. Hold my legs open. Tell them to fuck me harder. Slap my ass while one of them is inside me. Call me a good fuck right along with them. I want to hear it from all three of you.”

That was it for me. I came hard, gripping her hips, burying myself as deep as I could. She kept riding me through it, grinding down, and a few seconds later she came too—moaning loud, clenching around me, still whispering filthy little promises about what she wants them to do to her next time.

Afterward she collapsed onto my chest, both of us sweaty and out of breath. She kissed my neck and let out a soft, satisfied little laugh.

“I meant all of it,” she said quietly.

Earlier in our relationship, my wife did the usual thing where she told me I was the biggest and best she’s ever had. That’s probably a tale as old as time for the most part, and I thought that internally. I also knew she had a couple marriages and her self described hoe phase, so I knew she had to have had a lot of cock.

I’m like 6 inches hard, and kind of doubted that I could be her biggest, let alone her best.

As we’ve spent more time together and had our fights, she’s told me that she has had bigger and better than me, and said it kind of a demeaning way, like she’s probably had a lot bigger and better.

Of course this kind of makes me feel inferior, but turned on in a weird way because I’ve always gotten off to thinking of her being with other guys.

Not sure what to think of myself for this.

Yesterday my friend texted her. Not the usual flirting. A direct question:
Would you be up for a threesome tonight? There’s a surprise guest. Someone you already know. No pressure.

She showed me the message. We talked about it for a while. She was curious more than anything—especially about who the surprise might be. I told her it was her call. She sat with it for maybe ten minutes, then typed back:
Okay. I’m in.

She asked what she should wear. I told her to keep it simple. She walked out of the closet in one of my old t-shirts and nothing else. No bra. No panties. No shorts. The shirt was long enough to cover her at a glance, but every step made it clear there was nothing underneath—bare ass and pussy on full display whenever it rode up. When she turned around and poked it out, I got rock hard.

“You’re going like that?”
She just nodded, already flushed.
I drove her.
The whole ride she kept one hand on my thigh, quiet, already breathing a little faster. Before we left the house she’d asked if I wanted updates through the night. I told her no. I wanted her to just go, stay as long as she wanted, and tell me everything the next day when I picked her up. No texts. No videos. Just the full story after.

When we pulled up to his place I parked across the street so I could see the front door clearly. She leaned over, kissed me, and said, “I’ll text you when I’m ready tomorrow.” Then she got out and walked up his driveway, the t-shirt shifting with every step so that her bare ass kept flashing into view.

He opened the door before she even knocked.
She stepped into him and kissed him right there on the porch—slow and deep. His hands slid straight down and he groped her bare cheeks with both hands, spreading them a little, right there under the porch light while I watched from the car. She pressed closer and I saw his fingers dig in harder, one hand slipping between her legs for a second. Then he pulled her inside and the door shut.

True to what I’d told her, my phone stayed silent all night.
I sat at home knowing exactly what was probably happening and forcing myself not to reach out. Midnight passed. 2 a.m. 4 a.m. I finally fell into a restless sleep around 5, phone still in my hand.
At 9:47 a.m. my phone buzzed.
Ready babe

That was it. Two words.
I drove back over. She came out, still wearing only the t-shirt, hair a complete mess, walking like she’d been thoroughly used. The second she got in the car I could smell sex on her—strong, obvious, not just one man. She got in, smiled and kissed me, and then leaned her head back against the seat and closed her eyes while I drove.

We got home. She walked through the front door, pulled the t-shirt off over her head, and stood there naked in the living room for a second—fresh bruises on her hips, bite marks on her tits, dried cum on her stomach, her inner thighs, and the corner of her mouth. Then she took my hand and led me to the bedroom.

We lay down together. She curled into my side, head on my chest, one leg thrown over mine, and started telling me everything in a quiet, tired voice while I held her.

When she stepped inside, she immediately recognized the other guy sitting on the couch. He was a mutual friend—someone we’d both known for years, someone she’d seen out with different girls before. She was clearly surprised, but she was excited that he was the surprise guy.

They all talked for a bit. Caught up. The usual “how have you been” stuff, a few jokes, some comments about how long it had been since they’d all been in the same room. My friend explained that he’d mentioned the situation and that the other guy was more than down if she was. She asked a couple of questions, laughed at something one of them said, and for a few minutes it almost felt like a normal hangout.

Then the conversation naturally died down.
She looked at both of them for a second, still smiling… and then she reached down, pulled the t-shirt up over her head, and dropped it on the floor. Completely naked. Still smiling.

That was all the invitation they needed.
She dropped to her knees right there in the living room and sucked my friend first while the other guy watched and stroked himself. Then she switched. She took turns on both of them, messy and eager, letting them pass her back and forth until her eyes were watering and spit was running down her chest. They pulled her to the couch after that. My friend bent her over the armrest and fucked her hard from behind while she sucked the other guy’s cock. She came once like that, moaning around him.

They took her to the bedroom next.
She lost track of the exact order after a while. One of them would fuck her while she sucked the other. Then they’d switch. She rode my friend while the other guy knelt behind her and played with her ass and tits. At one point they had her on her back with her head hanging off the edge of the bed so one could fuck her throat while the other pounded her pussy. She came so hard her legs cramped.

My friend came inside her first.
The other guy pulled out and finished across her tongue and face.
They gave her a short break, made her drink some water, then started again.

She took both of them at least twice more. My friend filled her a second time while she was on her stomach. The other guy made her ride him reverse so my friend could watch his cum get pushed deeper every time she sank down. Near the end they had her on her knees between them again. She stroked them both, switched between their cocks with her mouth, and let them finish on her tongue and tits, making her really messy.

She fell asleep between them sometime after 3 a.m., still sticky, still full.
When she woke up around 9:30 they were both already hard again. She sucked them each for a few minutes as a goodbye, then put the t-shirt back on and texted me.

She told me all of it while we cuddled—her voice soft, her body warm and heavy against mine, fingers absently tracing patterns on my chest. Every so often she’d pause, press closer, and then keep going with the next detail.
By the time she finished, the room was quiet again. She tilted her head up and kissed me and told me how she loves me, ans thanked me for letting her be adventurous.

Yesterday my friend texted her. Not the usual flirting. A direct question:
Would you be up for a threesome tonight? There’s a surprise guest. Someone you already know. No pressure.

She showed me the message. We talked about it for a while. She was curious more than anything—especially about who the surprise might be. I told her it was her call. She sat with it for maybe ten minutes, then typed back:
Okay. I’m in.

She asked what she should wear. I told her to keep it simple. She walked out of the closet in one of my old t-shirts and nothing else. No bra. No panties. No shorts. The shirt was long enough to cover her at a glance, but every step made it clear there was nothing underneath—bare ass and pussy on full display whenever it rode up. When she turned around and poked it out, I got rock hard.

“You’re going like that?”
She just nodded, already flushed.
I drove her.
The whole ride she kept one hand on my thigh, quiet, already breathing a little faster. Before we left the house she’d asked if I wanted updates through the night. I told her no. I wanted her to just go, stay as long as she wanted, and tell me everything the next day when I picked her up. No texts. No videos. Just the full story after.

When we pulled up to his place I parked across the street so I could see the front door clearly. She leaned over, kissed me, and said, “I’ll text you when I’m ready tomorrow.” Then she got out and walked up his driveway, the t-shirt shifting with every step so that her bare ass kept flashing into view.

He opened the door before she even knocked.
She stepped into him and kissed him right there on the porch—slow and deep. His hands slid straight down and he groped her bare cheeks with both hands, spreading them a little, right there under the porch light while I watched from the car. She pressed closer and I saw his fingers dig in harder, one hand slipping between her legs for a second. Then he pulled her inside and the door shut.

True to what I’d told her, my phone stayed silent all night.
I sat at home knowing exactly what was probably happening and forcing myself not to reach out. Midnight passed. 2 a.m. 4 a.m. I finally fell into a restless sleep around 5, phone still in my hand.
At 9:47 a.m. my phone buzzed.
Ready babe

That was it. Two words.
I drove back over. She came out, still wearing only the t-shirt, hair a complete mess, walking like she’d been thoroughly used. The second she got in the car I could smell sex on her—strong, obvious, not just one man. She got in, smiled and kissed me, and then leaned her head back against the seat and closed her eyes while I drove.

We got home. She walked through the front door, pulled the t-shirt off over her head, and stood there naked in the living room for a second—fresh bruises on her hips, bite marks on her tits, dried cum on her stomach, her inner thighs, and the corner of her mouth. Then she took my hand and led me to the bedroom.

We lay down together. She curled into my side, head on my chest, one leg thrown over mine, and started telling me everything in a quiet, tired voice while I held her.

When she stepped inside, she immediately recognized the other guy sitting on the couch. He was a mutual friend—someone we’d both known for years, someone she’d seen out with different girls before. She was clearly surprised, but she was excited that he was the surprise guy.

They all talked for a bit. Caught up. The usual “how have you been” stuff, a few jokes, some comments about how long it had been since they’d all been in the same room. My friend explained that he’d mentioned the situation and that the other guy was more than down if she was. She asked a couple of questions, laughed at something one of them said, and for a few minutes it almost felt like a normal hangout.

Then the conversation naturally died down.
She looked at both of them for a second, still smiling… and then she reached down, pulled the t-shirt up over her head, and dropped it on the floor. Completely naked. Still smiling.

That was all the invitation they needed.
She dropped to her knees right there in the living room and sucked my friend first while the other guy watched and stroked himself. Then she switched. She took turns on both of them, messy and eager, letting them pass her back and forth until her eyes were watering and spit was running down her chest. They pulled her to the couch after that. My friend bent her over the armrest and fucked her hard from behind while she sucked the other guy’s cock. She came once like that, moaning around him.

They took her to the bedroom next.
She lost track of the exact order after a while. One of them would fuck her while she sucked the other. Then they’d switch. She rode my friend while the other guy knelt behind her and played with her ass and tits. At one point they had her on her back with her head hanging off the edge of the bed so one could fuck her throat while the other pounded her pussy. She came so hard her legs cramped.

My friend came inside her first.
The other guy pulled out and finished across her tongue and face.
They gave her a short break, made her drink some water, then started again.

She took both of them at least twice more. My friend filled her a second time while she was on her stomach. The other guy made her ride him reverse so my friend could watch his cum get pushed deeper every time she sank down. Near the end they had her on her knees between them again. She stroked them both, switched between their cocks with her mouth, and let them finish on her tongue and tits, making her really messy.

She fell asleep between them sometime after 3 a.m., still sticky, still full.
When she woke up around 9:30 they were both already hard again. She sucked them each for a few minutes as a goodbye, then put the t-shirt back on and texted me.

She told me all of it while we cuddled—her voice soft, her body warm and heavy against mine, fingers absently tracing patterns on my chest. Every so often she’d pause, press closer, and then keep going with the next detail.
By the time she finished, the room was quiet again. She tilted her head up and kissed me and told me how she loves me, ans thanked me for letting her be adventurous.

Yesterday my friend texted her. Not the usual flirting. A direct question:
Would you be up for a threesome tonight? There’s a surprise guest. Someone you already know. No pressure.

She showed me the message. We talked about it for a while. She was curious more than anything—especially about who the surprise might be. I told her it was her call. She sat with it for maybe ten minutes, then typed back:
Okay. I’m in.

She asked what she should wear. I told her to keep it simple. She walked out of the closet in one of my old t-shirts and nothing else. No bra. No panties. No shorts. The shirt was long enough to cover her at a glance, but every step made it clear there was nothing underneath—bare ass and pussy on full display whenever it rode up. When she turned around and poked it out, I got rock hard.

“You’re going like that?”
She just nodded, already flushed.
I drove her.
The whole ride she kept one hand on my thigh, quiet, already breathing a little faster. Before we left the house she’d asked if I wanted updates through the night. I told her no. I wanted her to just go, stay as long as she wanted, and tell me everything the next day when I picked her up. No texts. No videos. Just the full story after.

When we pulled up to his place I parked across the street so I could see the front door clearly. She leaned over, kissed me, and said, “I’ll text you when I’m ready tomorrow.” Then she got out and walked up his driveway, the t-shirt shifting with every step so that her bare ass kept flashing into view.

He opened the door before she even knocked.
She stepped into him and kissed him right there on the porch—slow and deep. His hands slid straight down and he groped her bare cheeks with both hands, spreading them a little, right there under the porch light while I watched from the car. She pressed closer and I saw his fingers dig in harder, one hand slipping between her legs for a second. Then he pulled her inside and the door shut.

True to what I’d told her, my phone stayed silent all night.
I sat at home knowing exactly what was probably happening and forcing myself not to reach out. Midnight passed. 2 a.m. 4 a.m. I finally fell into a restless sleep around 5, phone still in my hand.
At 9:47 a.m. my phone buzzed.
Ready babe

That was it. Two words.
I drove back over. She came out, still wearing only the t-shirt, hair a complete mess, walking like she’d been thoroughly used. The second she got in the car I could smell sex on her—strong, obvious, not just one man. She got in, smiled and kissed me, and then leaned her head back against the seat and closed her eyes while I drove.

We got home. She walked through the front door, pulled the t-shirt off over her head, and stood there naked in the living room for a second—fresh bruises on her hips, bite marks on her tits, dried cum on her stomach, her inner thighs, and the corner of her mouth. Then she took my hand and led me to the bedroom.

We lay down together. She curled into my side, head on my chest, one leg thrown over mine, and started telling me everything in a quiet, tired voice while I held her.

When she stepped inside, she immediately recognized the other guy sitting on the couch. He was a mutual friend—someone we’d both known for years, someone she’d seen out with different girls before. She was clearly surprised, but she was excited that he was the surprise guy.

They all talked for a bit. Caught up. The usual “how have you been” stuff, a few jokes, some comments about how long it had been since they’d all been in the same room. My friend explained that he’d mentioned the situation and that the other guy was more than down if she was. She asked a couple of questions, laughed at something one of them said, and for a few minutes it almost felt like a normal hangout.

Then the conversation naturally died down.
She looked at both of them for a second, still smiling… and then she reached down, pulled the t-shirt up over her head, and dropped it on the floor. Completely naked. Still smiling.

That was all the invitation they needed.
She dropped to her knees right there in the living room and sucked my friend first while the other guy watched and stroked himself. Then she switched. She took turns on both of them, messy and eager, letting them pass her back and forth until her eyes were watering and spit was running down her chest. They pulled her to the couch after that. My friend bent her over the armrest and fucked her hard from behind while she sucked the other guy’s cock. She came once like that, moaning around him.

They took her to the bedroom next.
She lost track of the exact order after a while. One of them would fuck her while she sucked the other. Then they’d switch. She rode my friend while the other guy knelt behind her and played with her ass and tits. At one point they had her on her back with her head hanging off the edge of the bed so one could fuck her throat while the other pounded her pussy. She came so hard her legs cramped.

My friend came inside her first.
The other guy pulled out and finished across her tongue and face.
They gave her a short break, made her drink some water, then started again.

She took both of them at least twice more. My friend filled her a second time while she was on her stomach. The other guy made her ride him reverse so my friend could watch his cum get pushed deeper every time she sank down. Near the end they had her on her knees between them again. She stroked them both, switched between their cocks with her mouth, and let them finish on her tongue and tits, making her really messy.

She fell asleep between them sometime after 3 a.m., still sticky, still full.
When she woke up around 9:30 they were both already hard again. She sucked them each for a few minutes as a goodbye, then put the t-shirt back on and texted me.

She told me all of it while we cuddled—her voice soft, her body warm and heavy against mine, fingers absently tracing patterns on my chest. Every so often she’d pause, press closer, and then keep going with the next detail.
By the time she finished, the room was quiet again. She tilted her head up and kissed me and told me how she loves me, ans thanked me for letting her be adventurous.

Yesterday my friend texted her. Not the usual flirting. A direct question:
Would you be up for a threesome tonight? There’s a surprise guest. Someone you already know. No pressure.

She showed me the message. We talked about it for a while. She was curious more than anything—especially about who the surprise might be. I told her it was her call. She sat with it for maybe ten minutes, then typed back:
Okay. I’m in.

She asked what she should wear. I told her to keep it simple. She walked out of the closet in one of my old t-shirts and nothing else. No bra. No panties. No shorts. The shirt was long enough to cover her at a glance, but every step made it clear there was nothing underneath—bare ass and pussy on full display whenever it rode up. When she turned around and poked it out, I got rock hard.

“You’re going like that?”
She just nodded, already flushed.
I drove her.
The whole ride she kept one hand on my thigh, quiet, already breathing a little faster. Before we left the house she’d asked if I wanted updates through the night. I told her no. I wanted her to just go, stay as long as she wanted, and tell me everything the next day when I picked her up. No texts. No videos. Just the full story after.

When we pulled up to his place I parked across the street so I could see the front door clearly. She leaned over, kissed me, and said, “I’ll text you when I’m ready tomorrow.” Then she got out and walked up his driveway, the t-shirt shifting with every step so that her bare ass kept flashing into view.

He opened the door before she even knocked.
She stepped into him and kissed him right there on the porch—slow and deep. His hands slid straight down and he groped her bare cheeks with both hands, spreading them a little, right there under the porch light while I watched from the car. She pressed closer and I saw his fingers dig in harder, one hand slipping between her legs for a second. Then he pulled her inside and the door shut.

True to what I’d told her, my phone stayed silent all night.
I sat at home knowing exactly what was probably happening and forcing myself not to reach out. Midnight passed. 2 a.m. 4 a.m. I finally fell into a restless sleep around 5, phone still in my hand.
At 9:47 a.m. my phone buzzed.
Ready babe

That was it. Two words.
I drove back over. She came out, still wearing only the t-shirt, hair a complete mess, walking like she’d been thoroughly used. The second she got in the car I could smell sex on her—strong, obvious, not just one man. She got in, smiled and kissed me, and then leaned her head back against the seat and closed her eyes while I drove.

We got home. She walked through the front door, pulled the t-shirt off over her head, and stood there naked in the living room for a second—fresh bruises on her hips, bite marks on her tits, dried cum on her stomach, her inner thighs, and the corner of her mouth. Then she took my hand and led me to the bedroom.

We lay down together. She curled into my side, head on my chest, one leg thrown over mine, and started telling me everything in a quiet, tired voice while I held her.

When she stepped inside, she immediately recognized the other guy sitting on the couch. He was a mutual friend—someone we’d both known for years, someone she’d seen out with different girls before. She was clearly surprised, but she was excited that he was the surprise guy.

They all talked for a bit. Caught up. The usual “how have you been” stuff, a few jokes, some comments about how long it had been since they’d all been in the same room. My friend explained that he’d mentioned the situation and that the other guy was more than down if she was. She asked a couple of questions, laughed at something one of them said, and for a few minutes it almost felt like a normal hangout.

Then the conversation naturally died down.
She looked at both of them for a second, still smiling… and then she reached down, pulled the t-shirt up over her head, and dropped it on the floor. Completely naked. Still smiling.

That was all the invitation they needed.
She dropped to her knees right there in the living room and sucked my friend first while the other guy watched and stroked himself. Then she switched. She took turns on both of them, messy and eager, letting them pass her back and forth until her eyes were watering and spit was running down her chest. They pulled her to the couch after that. My friend bent her over the armrest and fucked her hard from behind while she sucked the other guy’s cock. She came once like that, moaning around him.

They took her to the bedroom next.
She lost track of the exact order after a while. One of them would fuck her while she sucked the other. Then they’d switch. She rode my friend while the other guy knelt behind her and played with her ass and tits. At one point they had her on her back with her head hanging off the edge of the bed so one could fuck her throat while the other pounded her pussy. She came so hard her legs cramped.

My friend came inside her first.
The other guy pulled out and finished across her tongue and face.
They gave her a short break, made her drink some water, then started again.

She took both of them at least twice more. My friend filled her a second time while she was on her stomach. The other guy made her ride him reverse so my friend could watch his cum get pushed deeper every time she sank down. Near the end they had her on her knees between them again. She stroked them both, switched between their cocks with her mouth, and let them finish on her tongue and tits, making her really messy.

She fell asleep between them sometime after 3 a.m., still sticky, still full.
When she woke up around 9:30 they were both already hard again. She sucked them each for a few minutes as a goodbye, then put the t-shirt back on and texted me.

She told me all of it while we cuddled—her voice soft, her body warm and heavy against mine, fingers absently tracing patterns on my chest. Every so often she’d pause, press closer, and then keep going with the next detail.
By the time she finished, the room was quiet again. She tilted her head up and kissed me and told me how she loves me, ans thanked me for letting her be adventurous.

Yesterday my friend texted her. Not the usual flirting. A direct question:
Would you be up for a threesome tonight? There’s a surprise guest. Someone you already know. No pressure.

She showed me the message. We talked about it for a while. She was curious more than anything—especially about who the surprise might be. I told her it was her call. She sat with it for maybe ten minutes, then typed back:
Okay. I’m in.

She asked what she should wear. I told her to keep it simple. She walked out of the closet in one of my old t-shirts and nothing else. No bra. No panties. No shorts. The shirt was long enough to cover her at a glance, but every step made it clear there was nothing underneath—bare ass and pussy on full display whenever it rode up. When she turned around and poked it out, I got rock hard.

“You’re going like that?”
She just nodded, already flushed.
I drove her.
The whole ride she kept one hand on my thigh, quiet, already breathing a little faster. Before we left the house she’d asked if I wanted updates through the night. I told her no. I wanted her to just go, stay as long as she wanted, and tell me everything the next day when I picked her up. No texts. No videos. Just the full story after.

When we pulled up to his place I parked across the street so I could see the front door clearly. She leaned over, kissed me, and said, “I’ll text you when I’m ready tomorrow.” Then she got out and walked up his driveway, the t-shirt shifting with every step so that her bare ass kept flashing into view.

He opened the door before she even knocked.
She stepped into him and kissed him right there on the porch—slow and deep. His hands slid straight down and he groped her bare cheeks with both hands, spreading them a little, right there under the porch light while I watched from the car. She pressed closer and I saw his fingers dig in harder, one hand slipping between her legs for a second. Then he pulled her inside and the door shut.

True to what I’d told her, my phone stayed silent all night.
I sat at home knowing exactly what was probably happening and forcing myself not to reach out. Midnight passed. 2 a.m. 4 a.m. I finally fell into a restless sleep around 5, phone still in my hand.
At 9:47 a.m. my phone buzzed.
Ready babe

That was it. Two words.
I drove back over. She came out, still wearing only the t-shirt, hair a complete mess, walking like she’d been thoroughly used. The second she got in the car I could smell sex on her—strong, obvious, not just one man. She got in, smiled and kissed me, and then leaned her head back against the seat and closed her eyes while I drove.

We got home. She walked through the front door, pulled the t-shirt off over her head, and stood there naked in the living room for a second—fresh bruises on her hips, bite marks on her tits, dried cum on her stomach, her inner thighs, and the corner of her mouth. Then she took my hand and led me to the bedroom.

We lay down together. She curled into my side, head on my chest, one leg thrown over mine, and started telling me everything in a quiet, tired voice while I held her.

When she stepped inside, she immediately recognized the other guy sitting on the couch. He was a mutual friend—someone we’d both known for years, someone she’d seen out with different girls before. She was clearly surprised, but she was excited that he was the surprise guy.

They all talked for a bit. Caught up. The usual “how have you been” stuff, a few jokes, some comments about how long it had been since they’d all been in the same room. My friend explained that he’d mentioned the situation and that the other guy was more than down if she was. She asked a couple of questions, laughed at something one of them said, and for a few minutes it almost felt like a normal hangout.

Then the conversation naturally died down.
She looked at both of them for a second, still smiling… and then she reached down, pulled the t-shirt up over her head, and dropped it on the floor. Completely naked. Still smiling.

That was all the invitation they needed.
She dropped to her knees right there in the living room and sucked my friend first while the other guy watched and stroked himself. Then she switched. She took turns on both of them, messy and eager, letting them pass her back and forth until her eyes were watering and spit was running down her chest. They pulled her to the couch after that. My friend bent her over the armrest and fucked her hard from behind while she sucked the other guy’s cock. She came once like that, moaning around him.

They took her to the bedroom next.
She lost track of the exact order after a while. One of them would fuck her while she sucked the other. Then they’d switch. She rode my friend while the other guy knelt behind her and played with her ass and tits. At one point they had her on her back with her head hanging off the edge of the bed so one could fuck her throat while the other pounded her pussy. She came so hard her legs cramped.

My friend came inside her first.
The other guy pulled out and finished across her tongue and face.
They gave her a short break, made her drink some water, then started again.

She took both of them at least twice more. My friend filled her a second time while she was on her stomach. The other guy made her ride him reverse so my friend could watch his cum get pushed deeper every time she sank down. Near the end they had her on her knees between them again. She stroked them both, switched between their cocks with her mouth, and let them finish on her tongue and tits, making her really messy.

She fell asleep between them sometime after 3 a.m., still sticky, still full.
When she woke up around 9:30 they were both already hard again. She sucked them each for a few minutes as a goodbye, then put the t-shirt back on and texted me.

She told me all of it while we cuddled—her voice soft, her body warm and heavy against mine, fingers absently tracing patterns on my chest. Every so often she’d pause, press closer, and then keep going with the next detail.
By the time she finished, the room was quiet again. She tilted her head up and kissed me and told me how she loves me, ans thanked me for letting her be adventurous.

So I decided to take the first steps and my wife has ran with it.

I showed her nudes to one of my closest friends and he asked if he could fuck her I told him yes if she’s cool with it. When I talked to her, she was hesitant at first but then went along with it.

Since then, they’ve fucked on 3 separate occasions now. Both days last weekend, and last night he took her on a date and then fucked her at his place.

Things are moving pretty fast. And I am enjoying it but also wondering where this may lead us.

I don’t even know how to start this without sounding like I’ve completely lost my mind, so I’ll just say it:
Last night my wife went on a date with the same friend who’s already fucked her twice in our house. She left around 7. She didn’t come home until almost 1 a.m. And when she did, she still had his cum inside her.

We’ve been escalating fast. First I showed him her nudes. Then I watched him fuck her on our couch. Then she spent the next day sexting him. Then I invited him back, laid out purple lingerie for her, and watched her answer the door in it and fuck him in our bed. Then she sucked me off and swallowed before we fell asleep.

But this was different.

A couple days ago he texted her and asked if he could take her out. Properly. Dinner, drinks, the whole thing. She showed me the message. I told her to say yes.
She got ready in front of me. Black dress, no bra, the kind of thong that disappears under the fabric. She let me watch her put on makeup and pick out heels. Before she left she kissed me, told me she loved me, and said she’d text updates.

She did.

First text was a photo of her drink at the restaurant, his hand visible on the table near hers.
Second was a bathroom mirror selfie—dress pulled down just enough to show one tit, captioned He keeps staring.
Third, about an hour later: We’re leaving. Going to his place.
After that the messages slowed down, but they didn’t stop.

She sent a photo of her dress on his bedroom floor.
Then one of her on his bed in just the thong, legs open, fingers spreading her pussy so I could see how wet she already was.

Then a short video—his thick cock sliding into her from behind while she looked at the camera, biting her lip, the wet sound of him pushing deep clearly audible. The caption was just Wish you were here watching.

I sat on our couch with my cock in my hand the entire time, heart pounding, checking my phone like an addict. She kept sending little updates between rounds.

He just bent me over the edge of his bed and fucked me so hard I could barely stay on my feet. I came with his hand around my throat.

He made me ride him so he could watch my tits bounce. I came again with him that deep.
He flipped me onto my back, pushed my knees to my chest, and railed me until I was shaking and drooling. He won’t stop. He keeps telling me how good my married pussy feels.

He just came inside me for the first time! So fucking deep. I can feel it leaking out already.
He’s hard again. He’s fucking me slow this time, making me feel every inch. I can’t stop moaning.
Second load. Still inside me. He told me to keep it in on the drive home.

Around 12:40 she texted: On my way home. Still full of him. Legs are shaking.
She walked through the door a little after 1. Hair messy, lipstick gone, that same black dress slightly wrinkled and clinging to her. She looked wrecked in the best way—flushed cheeks, glassy eyes, thighs still a little slick. The second the door closed she kissed me hard, and I could taste him on her tongue. She didn’t even make it to the bedroom before she was pulling my cock out and telling me everything in a low, hoarse voice while she stroked me.

How he barely touched his food at dinner because he kept his hand high on her thigh the whole time, fingers occasionally brushing under the hem of her dress. How the second they got inside his place he had her pressed against the door, dress shoved up, two fingers already buried in her while he told her how much he’d been thinking about her cunt since the last time.

How he bent her over the arm of his couch first and fucked her hard and fast until she came with her face in the cushion. How he then took her to the bedroom, ripped the thong off, and made her ride him so he could watch every bounce and every expression. How he flipped her onto her back, folded her in half, and pounded her so deep she started crying from how good it felt. How he came inside her the first time with a groan and stayed buried until he softened, then got hard again while still inside her and fucked her slow and filthy the second time, whispering how he loved pumping her full while her husband waited at home.

How she came so hard on that second round that her legs were still trembling when she got dressed.
She was still dripping when she climbed on top of me and sank down onto my cock, his cum making everything wetter. She rode me hard, whispering every remaining detail—how his cock felt thicker when he was about to finish, how he made her push it back in with her fingers after the first load so it wouldn’t leak out too fast, how he’d told her to text him the second she got home so he could know she’d kept him inside her the whole drive.

I came harder than I had in weeks, buried in her while she kept talking.
Now it’s the next day. She slept naked, with that post-sex glow she only gets after a really good fuck.

There’s a faint bruise on her hip from his grip and a little dried cum still on her inner thigh.

I should probably feel jealous. Or insecure. Or like I’ve let this go too far.
Instead I’m hard again, already thinking about the next time she leaves the house to go see him… or maybe someone else.

I don’t even know how to start this without sounding like I’ve completely lost my mind, so I’ll just say it:
Last night my wife went on a date with the same friend who’s already fucked her twice in our house. She left around 7. She didn’t come home until almost 1 a.m. And when she did, she still had his cum inside her.

We’ve been escalating fast. First I showed him her nudes. Then I watched him fuck her on our couch. Then she spent the next day sexting him. Then I invited him back, laid out purple lingerie for her, and watched her answer the door in it and fuck him in our bed. Then she sucked me off and swallowed before we fell asleep.

But this was different.

A couple days ago he texted her and asked if he could take her out. Properly. Dinner, drinks, the whole thing. She showed me the message. I told her to say yes.
She got ready in front of me. Black dress, no bra, the kind of thong that disappears under the fabric. She let me watch her put on makeup and pick out heels. Before she left she kissed me, told me she loved me, and said she’d text updates.

She did.

First text was a photo of her drink at the restaurant, his hand visible on the table near hers.
Second was a bathroom mirror selfie—dress pulled down just enough to show one tit, captioned He keeps staring.
Third, about an hour later: We’re leaving. Going to his place.
After that the messages slowed down, but they didn’t stop.

She sent a photo of her dress on his bedroom floor.
Then one of her on his bed in just the thong, legs open, fingers spreading her pussy so I could see how wet she already was.

Then a short video—his thick cock sliding into her from behind while she looked at the camera, biting her lip, the wet sound of him pushing deep clearly audible. The caption was just Wish you were here watching.

I sat on our couch with my cock in my hand the entire time, heart pounding, checking my phone like an addict. She kept sending little updates between rounds.

He just bent me over the edge of his bed and fucked me so hard I could barely stay on my feet. I came with his hand around my throat.

He made me ride him so he could watch my tits bounce. I came again with him that deep.
He flipped me onto my back, pushed my knees to my chest, and railed me until I was shaking and drooling. He won’t stop. He keeps telling me how good my married pussy feels.

He just came inside me for the first time! So fucking deep. I can feel it leaking out already.
He’s hard again. He’s fucking me slow this time, making me feel every inch. I can’t stop moaning.
Second load. Still inside me. He told me to keep it in on the drive home.

Around 12:40 she texted: On my way home. Still full of him. Legs are shaking.
She walked through the door a little after 1. Hair messy, lipstick gone, that same black dress slightly wrinkled and clinging to her. She looked wrecked in the best way—flushed cheeks, glassy eyes, thighs still a little slick. The second the door closed she kissed me hard, and I could taste him on her tongue. She didn’t even make it to the bedroom before she was pulling my cock out and telling me everything in a low, hoarse voice while she stroked me.

How he barely touched his food at dinner because he kept his hand high on her thigh the whole time, fingers occasionally brushing under the hem of her dress. How the second they got inside his place he had her pressed against the door, dress shoved up, two fingers already buried in her while he told her how much he’d been thinking about her cunt since the last time.

How he bent her over the arm of his couch first and fucked her hard and fast until she came with her face in the cushion. How he then took her to the bedroom, ripped the thong off, and made her ride him so he could watch every bounce and every expression. How he flipped her onto her back, folded her in half, and pounded her so deep she started crying from how good it felt. How he came inside her the first time with a groan and stayed buried until he softened, then got hard again while still inside her and fucked her slow and filthy the second time, whispering how he loved pumping her full while her husband waited at home.

How she came so hard on that second round that her legs were still trembling when she got dressed.
She was still dripping when she climbed on top of me and sank down onto my cock, his cum making everything wetter. She rode me hard, whispering every remaining detail—how his cock felt thicker when he was about to finish, how he made her push it back in with her fingers after the first load so it wouldn’t leak out too fast, how he’d told her to text him the second she got home so he could know she’d kept him inside her the whole drive.

I came harder than I had in weeks, buried in her while she kept talking.
Now it’s the next day. She slept naked, with that post-sex glow she only gets after a really good fuck.

There’s a faint bruise on her hip from his grip and a little dried cum still on her inner thigh.

I should probably feel jealous. Or insecure. Or like I’ve let this go too far.
Instead I’m hard again, already thinking about the next time she leaves the house to go see him… or maybe someone else.

After her shower she walked into the bedroom, saw the purple set laid out on the bed, and just smiled. Didn’t ask any questions. Just put it on while I watched—sheer purple bra that barely contained her, matching thong, garter belt, the thigh-highs clipped in place. She turned in front of the mirror once, adjusted the straps, then looked at me.

“You want me to answer the door like this?”
I nodded.
When the knock came she didn’t hesitate. I stayed back in the hallway so I could see everything. She opened the door in that purple lingerie, hair still a little damp, looking like she’d been put together just for him. His eyes went straight down her body and stayed there. He stepped inside without a word. She didn’t say anything either—just took his hand and led him past me, straight down the hall to our bedroom.
I followed.

She dropped to her knees in front of him before he’d even finished taking his shirt off. She tugged his pants and boxers down together, wrapped her hand around his cock, and looked up at him with that same hungry little expression from the night before. Then she took him into her mouth.

No teasing. No slow build. Just wet, eager suction, her head bobbing, one hand stroking what she couldn’t fit, the other resting on his thigh. The wet sounds filled the room. He groaned and slid his fingers into her hair, but he didn’t need to guide her—she was already taking him deep, eyes watering a little, clearly enjoying every second of it. I pulled my own cock out, stroking while I watched my wife worship his dick like she’d been thinking about it all day (because she had).

She pulled off with a wet pop, stroked him a few times while she caught her breath, then looked at me.
“You still good?”

“Yeah,” I said, voice rough. “Keep going.”
She stood, unclipped the garters, and pushed the thong down her legs. Then she climbed onto the bed on all fours, looking back over her shoulder at him. He didn’t need another invitation. He got behind her, rubbed the head of his cock up and down her already-slick pussy, and pushed in with one smooth thrust.

She moaned loud—louder than last night—and pushed back onto him immediately.
He started fucking her hard and deep, hands gripping her hips, the purple bra still on so her tits swayed inside the sheer cups with every thrust. She met every stroke, rocking back against him, moaning and talking dirty between breaths.

“Fuck—yes—just like that—don’t stop—”
He reached under her, rubbed her clit while he pounded her, and she came fast, body shaking, face pressed into the sheets. He didn’t slow down. He kept fucking her through it, then flipped her onto her back, hooked her legs over his arms, and drove back in. The angle made her cry out. She reached up, grabbed the headboard, and held on while he railed her, the wet slap of skin loud in the room.

I stroked myself harder, watching her take him like she couldn’t get enough. Her eyes kept finding mine between moans, glassy and excited, like she wanted me to see exactly how much she was loving it.
He lasted longer than last night. Changed positions twice more—her on top riding him hard, then back on her knees again—before he finally pulled out, stroked himself, and came across her tits and stomach with a low groan. She stayed there looking up at him, chest heaving, covered in his cum, the purple bra still half-on and pushed up above her breasts.
Nobody spoke for a few seconds. Just heavy breathing.

He eventually got dressed. She walked him to the door still in the lingerie, cum still drying on her skin, and kissed him goodbye like it was the most natural thing in the world. I heard her tell him to text her when he got home.

After he left we didn’t talk much at first. She took a quick shower, then came back to bed still a little damp. I was lying there hard again, still wound up from watching. She noticed, smiled, and without a word crawled between my legs, pulled my cock out, and took me into her mouth. She sucked me slow and deep, eyes on mine the whole time, until I came hard across her tongue. She swallowed every drop, then climbed up, kissed me, and curled into my side.
We fell asleep like that—her head on my chest, my arm around her, the smell of sex and her shampoo still in the room.

Now it’s the next morning. She’s still asleep next to me, one leg thrown over mine. The purple lingerie is in a small pile on the floor. Her phone is on the nightstand, already lit up with a couple messages from him that I haven’t opened yet.
I keep replaying the whole night. The way she answered the door. The way she sucked him. The way she fucked him like she couldn’t get enough. And then the quiet, almost tender way she took care of me before we fell asleep.

After her shower she walked into the bedroom, saw the purple set laid out on the bed, and just smiled. Didn’t ask any questions. Just put it on while I watched—sheer purple bra that barely contained her, matching thong, garter belt, the thigh-highs clipped in place. She turned in front of the mirror once, adjusted the straps, then looked at me.

“You want me to answer the door like this?”
I nodded.
When the knock came she didn’t hesitate. I stayed back in the hallway so I could see everything. She opened the door in that purple lingerie, hair still a little damp, looking like she’d been put together just for him. His eyes went straight down her body and stayed there. He stepped inside without a word. She didn’t say anything either—just took his hand and led him past me, straight down the hall to our bedroom.
I followed.

She dropped to her knees in front of him before he’d even finished taking his shirt off. She tugged his pants and boxers down together, wrapped her hand around his cock, and looked up at him with that same hungry little expression from the night before. Then she took him into her mouth.

No teasing. No slow build. Just wet, eager suction, her head bobbing, one hand stroking what she couldn’t fit, the other resting on his thigh. The wet sounds filled the room. He groaned and slid his fingers into her hair, but he didn’t need to guide her—she was already taking him deep, eyes watering a little, clearly enjoying every second of it. I pulled my own cock out, stroking while I watched my wife worship his dick like she’d been thinking about it all day (because she had).

She pulled off with a wet pop, stroked him a few times while she caught her breath, then looked at me.
“You still good?”

“Yeah,” I said, voice rough. “Keep going.”
She stood, unclipped the garters, and pushed the thong down her legs. Then she climbed onto the bed on all fours, looking back over her shoulder at him. He didn’t need another invitation. He got behind her, rubbed the head of his cock up and down her already-slick pussy, and pushed in with one smooth thrust.

She moaned loud—louder than last night—and pushed back onto him immediately.
He started fucking her hard and deep, hands gripping her hips, the purple bra still on so her tits swayed inside the sheer cups with every thrust. She met every stroke, rocking back against him, moaning and talking dirty between breaths.

“Fuck—yes—just like that—don’t stop—”
He reached under her, rubbed her clit while he pounded her, and she came fast, body shaking, face pressed into the sheets. He didn’t slow down. He kept fucking her through it, then flipped her onto her back, hooked her legs over his arms, and drove back in. The angle made her cry out. She reached up, grabbed the headboard, and held on while he railed her, the wet slap of skin loud in the room.

I stroked myself harder, watching her take him like she couldn’t get enough. Her eyes kept finding mine between moans, glassy and excited, like she wanted me to see exactly how much she was loving it.
He lasted longer than last night. Changed positions twice more—her on top riding him hard, then back on her knees again—before he finally pulled out, stroked himself, and came across her tits and stomach with a low groan. She stayed there looking up at him, chest heaving, covered in his cum, the purple bra still half-on and pushed up above her breasts.
Nobody spoke for a few seconds. Just heavy breathing.

He eventually got dressed. She walked him to the door still in the lingerie, cum still drying on her skin, and kissed him goodbye like it was the most natural thing in the world. I heard her tell him to text her when he got home.

After he left we didn’t talk much at first. She took a quick shower, then came back to bed still a little damp. I was lying there hard again, still wound up from watching. She noticed, smiled, and without a word crawled between my legs, pulled my cock out, and took me into her mouth. She sucked me slow and deep, eyes on mine the whole time, until I came hard across her tongue. She swallowed every drop, then climbed up, kissed me, and curled into my side.
We fell asleep like that—her head on my chest, my arm around her, the smell of sex and her shampoo still in the room.

Now it’s the next morning. She’s still asleep next to me, one leg thrown over mine. The purple lingerie is in a small pile on the floor. Her phone is on the nightstand, already lit up with a couple messages from him that I haven’t opened yet.
I keep replaying the whole night. The way she answered the door. The way she sucked him. The way she fucked him like she couldn’t get enough. And then the quiet, almost tender way she took care of me before we fell asleep.

For anyone who didn’t see the first post: I showed my friend nudes of my wife recently. He told me he wanted to fuck her. I said yes. She went along with it. I invited him over. She answered the door in a tight crop top and tiny booty shorts with nothing underneath. I watched him fuck her on our couch until he pulled out and came in her mouth.
I loved every second of it. Still do.

But today has been… different.
I woke up hard, replaying everything. She was already in the kitchen making coffee like it was any other Sunday. Kissed me good morning. Asked how I slept. Acted completely normal. I almost started to think maybe the night before had been this intense, private thing we’d just quietly put away.

Then I later noticed her phone has been going off more than normal today.

I didn’t say anything at first. Just watched her. She kept checking it every few minutes. Small smiles. Sometimes she’d bite her lip. Once she actually laughed under her breath and turned the screen away when she noticed me looking.

I couldn’t take it anymore. She was on the couch scrolling, and I sat down next to her.
“You talking to him?”
She didn’t even try to hide it. Just turned the phone so I could see.
It was him. Their thread was long.
He’d texted her this morning: Still thinking about last night. The way you looked when I came in your mouth.

She’d sent back: I keep replaying it too. My jaw was a little sore this morning 😌
Then a photo. Not full nude, but close. Her in the same crop top from last night, pulled up just enough to show the underside of her tits, no bra, nipples hard. She said - Wore this again today. Thought you’d like it.
He’d replied with a dick pic. Hard. Same cock that was inside her less than twenty-four hours ago. Fuck. I want to see more.

She’d sent another. This time the booty shorts, pulled to the side, bare pussy, two fingers spreading herself. Still a little swollen from you.
I felt my cock throb reading it.
She watched my face while I scrolled. “You mad?”
I shook my head. “No. Show me the rest.”
There was more. A lot more.

Him telling her how good her pussy felt. Her admitting she came harder with him than she had in a while. Him saying he wants to come back. Her saying she wants that too.

At one point she sent a voice note. I played it. Her voice low and a little breathless: “I can still taste you. I keep thinking about how you grabbed my hair and just used my mouth. I want you to do it again.”
I handed the phone back, heart pounding, cock fully hard.
She looked at me. “You still okay with this?”

I nodded. “Yeah. More than okay. Keep going.”
She smiled, that same little smirk from the photos I showed him before, and started typing again. A few seconds later her phone buzzed. She showed me the screen.

Him: Tell your husband I said thanks for sharing. And tell him I want another round soon.
She looked at me, waiting.
I took the phone, typed back myself: He says you’re welcome. And he’s already hard thinking about watching again.

She hit send, then climbed into my lap, still holding the phone, and kissed me while it kept buzzing with more messages from him.
We stayed like that for a while, her grinding slowly against me while she kept texting him. Eventually she pulled back, eyes dark, and said, “We should send him new pictures.”
I didn’t hesitate. “Let’s give him some.”

She stood up, pulled the crop top off, then pushed the booty shorts down and kicked them aside. Completely naked in the middle of our living room in the middle of the afternoon. I grabbed my phone.

First shot: her standing in front of the window, full frontal, tits out, nipples still hard, one hand resting lightly between her legs. Same pose as the original photo I’d shown him months ago, only now she looked freshly fucked and a little smug about it.

Second: I had her turn around, bend over the arm of the couch—the same spot he’d bent her over last night—and look back at the camera while she spread her ass with both hands.

Third: her on her knees on the rug, looking up at me, mouth open, tongue out. I told her to hold the pose while I stepped closer and rested the head of my cock on her tongue for a second so it was in the frame.
I sent all three to him from her phone, no caption, just the photos.
His reply came fast.

Fuck. You’re killing me. When can I come back?
She looked at me, still on her knees, waiting for my answer.
I took the phone again and typed:
In two hours. Come over.
Three dots appeared almost immediately.
I’ll be there.

I told her to take a shower.

While she was in there I went to our bedroom, opened the top drawer, and pulled out the purple lingerie set she’d bought last year and only worn once. Sheer purple bra with little lace details, matching thong, and the garter belt that clipped to the sheer thigh-highs. I laid it out carefully on the bed—bra on top, thong beneath it, garters and stockings to the side—so it would be the first thing she saw when she came out.

I could already picture her in it. Could already picture the look on his face when she opened the door.
So now it’s late afternoon on the day after. She’s still in the shower. The purple lingerie is waiting on the bed.

I’m writing this while I wait, cock already hard again, counting down until she takes his dick again.

So yeah. This happened last night and I’m still buzzing from it.

I’ve known this guy for years. Good friend. Solid. We hang out, watch games, talk shit, the usual. A few months ago, after a few drinks, I showed him some photos of her. Naked ones. The first was a full-frontal shot—her standing in our bedroom, tits out, hard nipples, shaved pussy on full display, looking straight at the camera with that little smirk she gets when she knows she looks good. The second was her bent over the bed, looking back over her shoulder, ass pushed out and spread just enough that you could see everything. The third was her on her knees sucking my cock, eyes up at the camera, lips stretched around me. There were a couple others too—one of her in the shower with water running down her body, another of her lying back with her legs open, fingers spreading herself. He stared at every single one for a long time. Told me she was hot as fuck. I laughed, but the way he looked at those pictures stuck with me. I kept thinking about it.

Last week he brought it up again. We were sitting in his car after a game. He got quiet, then said it straight: “I’ve been thinking about those pictures. I want to fuck your wife.”

No joke. No nervous laugh. Just the words.
My stomach dropped and my cock twitched at the same time. I sat there for a second, then heard myself say, “Okay.”

He looked at me. “You serious?”
“Yeah. If she’s down… fuck yes. You can.”
We talked about it more. Boundaries. How it would work. I told him I’d talk to her. He said he’d wait.
I talked to her two nights later. She was quiet at first, asked a lot of questions. Was I sure? Did I actually want this? I told her the truth: that the idea had been living in my head since I showed him the photos, and hearing him say it out loud made me hard as hell. She thought about it. Then she said yes. The way she said it—soft, a little excited—made my pulse jump.
So yesterday I texted him: You free tonight? Come over. She’s good with it.

He showed up around seven. My wife answered the door in a tight black crop top that barely covered the underside of her tits and a pair of tiny gray booty shorts that hugged her ass like a second skin. No bra. No panties. I could see the outline of her nipples through the thin fabric and the way the shorts rode up between her cheeks when she turned. He took one look at her and I watched his eyes darken. We ate, drank a few beers, put on a movie none of us were really watching. The air felt thick the whole time.

Everyone knew why he was really there. I was already half-hard just knowing what was coming, and every time she moved I caught another flash of skin.
At some point she got up to get another drink and when she came back she sat on the couch between us. Conversation got looser. She kept touching his arm. He started looking at her the way he’d looked at those photos—hungry, focused. My heart was pounding. I could feel how ready I was for this.

Eventually I got up to take a piss. When I came back they were closer. Her hand was on his thigh. His was on the back of the couch behind her, fingers brushing the bare strip of skin between her crop top and shorts. They both looked at me.
She said, quiet, “Still okay?”

I nodded, voice rough. “Yeah. Do it. I want to watch.”
She kissed him. Right there on the couch. Soft at first, then deeper, hungrier. I watched, cock straining in my pants, and I couldn’t stop staring. He looked at me once over her shoulder and I just nodded again, harder this time. “Go on.”
They didn’t stop.

He pulled the crop top up over her tits and they spilled out, nipples already hard. He was on them immediately—mouth, hands, sucking and squeezing like he’d been waiting months for it. She moaned into his mouth and I felt that sound in my own dick. He shoved the booty shorts down her thighs; they were so tight he had to work them off. She kicked them away and spread her legs. She was already wet, bare pussy glistening. He dragged his fingers through her, then pushed two inside while he kept sucking on her nipple. She arched and gasped.

I sat there with my hand on my cock through my jeans, breathing hard, watching my wife get fingered by my friend like she belonged to him for the night.
He got his pants down. His cock was thick, already leaking. She reached for it, stroked him a few times, then looked at me one last time before she guided him to her entrance. He pushed in slow at first, stretching her, and the sound she made—half moan, half whimper—made my whole body tense. Then he started fucking her.

Deep, steady strokes that made her tits bounce and her mouth fall open. She wrapped her legs around him and pulled him in harder. The wet slap of skin filled the room. I pulled my cock out and stroked it while I watched him bury himself in her over and over. She kept looking at me between moans, eyes glassy, like she wanted me to see every second of it.
He flipped her onto her knees, bent her over the arm of the couch, and slammed back into her from behind. The angle made her cry out. He grabbed her hips and fucked her harder, the sound of his body hitting hers loud and filthy. She reached back and spread herself for him, taking every thrust. I could see his cock disappearing into her, shiny with how wet she was.

She came hard—body shaking, moaning loud, pussy clenching around him. He didn’t stop. He kept pounding her through it until she was trembling and begging in that broken voice she only gets when she’s completely gone. Then he pulled out, grabbed her by the hair, and turned her around. She opened her mouth without being told. He stroked himself twice and came hard across her tongue and lips, thick ropes of it, some of it spilling down her chin. She stayed there on her knees looking up at him, mouth open, swallowing what she could while the rest ran down her body.

When he finally stepped back, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, still breathing hard, looking wrecked and satisfied.
Nobody said much after that. He got dressed. I walked him to the door still half-hard, still buzzing. We shook hands and bro hugged.

My wife took a shower. I sat on the couch staring at the wet spot on the cushion, cock still sensitive, replaying every thrust and the way she’d looked with his cum on her tongue.

Now it’s the next morning and I’m writing this because I need to put it somewhere. I’m still turned on. Still a little stunned. She acted normal at breakfast. Kissed me on the cheek like nothing happened. Asked if I wanted more coffee. But when she walked past me I could still smell him on her skin for a second, and my stomach flipped all over again.
I keep replaying it. The way she looked at him. The way she took him. The way she opened her mouth for his load while I watched and stroked myself.

I showed him the photos—full frontal with her tits and pussy on display, bent over showing off her ass, on her knees sucking my cock, and a couple more.
He told me he wanted to fuck her.
I said yes.
Then I invited him over, let her answer the door in a crop top and booty shorts with nothing underneath, and watched him wreck her until he came in her mouth.
And fuck… I loved every second of it.

My wife gave me her passcode on her phone and I got curious about what may be in her photos & vids. She was taking a shower at the time, so I had privacy to explore. Scrolled past the usual shit until I found a video that looked interesting. Timestamped from before we were together.

It’s her. On her knees. Looking up at some guy I don’t know. She’s sucking him off like she’s starving for it. Slow at first, then deeper, spit running down her chin, eyes watering a little but she never looks away from him. One hand on his thigh, the other wrapped around the base. She moans around him when he grabs her hair. The camera angle is from his POV, so it’s mostly her face, her mouth, the way her lips stretch, the way she pulls off to catch her breath and then goes right back down like she misses it.
She looks… incredible.

Not just “hot for a video.” The specific way her eyes get glassy, the little smile she gives him right before she takes him deeper, the way her tongue works the underside when she pulls back. She’s into it. Really into it. The same soft little whimpers she makes when she’s worked up with me are in that video, just pointed at someone else.

I watched the whole thing. Twice. Then I put the phone back exactly where it was and sat there for a long time.

I’m not even sure what I’m feeling — the gut punch of shock or the fact that I got hard watching it. Because she looked so fucking good. Better than all the porn I’ve seen. Natural, hungry, beautiful. The way her hair fell across her face, the flush on her cheeks, how focused she was on making him feel good.

We have a good sex life. She still looks at me like that sometimes. But seeing the proof that she used to look at him like that, and hearing those same sounds for someone else, is messing with my head in a way I didn’t expect.

I haven’t said anything. Don’t know if I will. Part of me wants to pretend I never saw it. Another part wants to ask her about it, or ask her to do it again while I watch.

Anyone else ever find something like this and just… freeze? Or am I the only one sitting here replaying how perfect her mouth looked wrapped around another guy’s cock?

I took my wife out for drinks on a Friday night, just the two of us looking to blow off some steam. She walked out of the bedroom in that tight white dress—the thin, almost see-through one that clung to every curve. No bra. No panties. The fabric was so sheer you could make out the dark circles of her nipples and the shadow between her legs if the light hit her just right. I told her she looked fucking incredible. She just smiled, spun once so the hem rode up her thighs, and asked if I was sure I was ready for whatever the night brought.

We found a spot at a crowded downtown bar. Music loud, bodies packed in. After a couple of rounds she was already swaying in her seat, that dress riding higher every time she crossed and uncrossed her legs. Guys were staring. I leaned in and told her she could dance with anyone she wanted. No limits. She kissed me hard, eyes already scanning the room, and whispered that she loved how free I was letting her be.

She didn’t wait long. A tall guy with tattoos asked her to dance and she was up in a second, pressing herself against him on the floor. I watched from the bar, nursing my drink, watching that white dress mold to her ass as she ground on him. Then another guy cut in. Then a third. She was laughing, letting hands roam over her hips, her waist, the sides of her tits. The dress left nothing to the imagination under the strobes—nipples hard, the outline of her pussy clear every time someone pulled her close.

I gave her space. Let her play. An hour later I went looking for her to see if she wanted another drink. Found her in a darker corner near the back, half-hidden under a high-top table. Kneeling. That same white dress hiked up around her waist so her bare ass was on display for anyone who glanced over. Her head was bobbing between some stranger’s spread legs. He had one hand on the back of her neck, guiding her. She was sucking him deep, and pulled back several times for air, only to dive back down on it. Her free hand was between her own legs, fingers working herself while she took him.

I stood there longer than I meant to. She looked up once, eyes glassy, and saw me. Didn’t stop. Just kept going, slower now, like she wanted me to watch every inch of him disappear past her lips. The guy never even noticed me. When he finally finished she swallowed, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, and stood up. The dress fell back into place, still transparent, still showing everything. She walked over to me like nothing had happened, kissed me with the taste of him still on her tongue, and asked if I wanted to stay for one more dance. I couldn’t say no.