My husband Ed is obsessed wanting to see me with other men. Just married a year. During the year have been with men 20 to 60 in age. At work I am a good girl but the men there think I am a slut. I don't understand there thinking. Once Ed visited the office, we kissed, tweaked my nipple, talked and then he spoke with two of my coworking men as they looked at me from across the way. I looked up at them too. Then my husband came back to my desk and said that they could see under my skirt, they saw my pussy. I 'm not always careful they way I sit. When he conveyed this to me his cock was getting hard and asked me to go to the WC with him. Told Ed had work to do. He didn't care he needed to go to the WC with me. He teased me, letting his hand wander between my thighs. It felt sexy. Ed knew my weak spots. Not to have a scene I rose from the chair and went to the WC and entered a cabin. Yeah I wanted him. My short skirt came up, took off my crotchless panties. Ed had his cock out and sucked him into my hungry slutty mouth. I sucked and sucked fondling his balls too. He shot his load quickly into my mouth, over my face, on my blouse, when the door opened and the two men Ed spoke where watching us stroking there cocks.
"Take care of them you fuck slut" Ed demanded. Fuck them. I wasn't going to do it but Ed held me down on the toilet seat, rolled up my skirt to my waist.
"Spread your legs bitch NOW"
Sam came between my legs and shoved his cock into my wet pussy. I don't know why but I wanted to be fucked. Ed watched and stroked with the other man, as both of them gave me a facial.
Why why has Ed made me a slut. I am weak.
"Take care of them you fuck slut" Ed demanded. Fuck them. I wasn't going to do it but Ed held me down on the toilet seat, rolled up my skirt to my waist.
"Spread your legs bitch NOW"
Sam came between my legs and shoved his cock into my wet pussy. I don't know why but I wanted to be fucked. Ed watched and stroked with the other man, as both of them gave me a facial.
Why why has Ed made me a slut. I am weak.
