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Thoughts On Her Surrender - 2, A Week with Her Dom

~~~Part two is a second attempt to convey my excitement and angst during one of our week-long visits with her Dom, Dave. The first was a compilation of experiences from our past with him, written days after a visit in the past in a fit of heightened lust as I recovered. This is a more specific account after a much later visit when Dave pushed my submission further than I ever expected. L was more than enthusiastic and played her part with a wicked, yet seemingly joyful attitude while watching me squirm. It was more serious on the surface, challenging me to accept that I may have lost not her devotion as my wife, but possibly a piece of her sexuality and partial rights to her body in some new and very permanent way. For some reason I still don't completely understand, I found my submission and sacrifice surprisingly arousing. I never owned her body or her sexuality, but still, giving up a piece of it, seeing the eagerness and hunger in her eyes, the way her body responded to a variety of men with no reservation or hesitation at her Dom's whim at times tossed at me like tiny daggers, was both startling and helplessly arousing for me. So, here's the week, from notes I took at the time during the night in hours of seclusion as he fucked my wife two floors above me. ~~~



~ The Call ~


Months pass. Work, stress, and all the daily crap from a fucked up world that erodes the best of us. The residuals. The heated memories of the last visit. Almost undetectable. Over time, sinister.

Travel. Missionary sex, once or twice a week. Cumming is an effort sometimes. Maybe she's even faking. I fail now and then, and she knows it. My fading memories give way to lurking perversions that fill the empty space. She's turned inward with little or no room for fantasies. Cold, hard reality fills her empty space, and she won't let me in. Until...

"I fucked a guy at lunch today." Her story. He hits on her at a local cafe. Sits right down. Tells her he can't help himself, she's beautiful. Says she needs to be spanked for thoughts of cheating. Dirty little wife, bored with her husband, looking for sex with a guy like him, a guy who gets her wet with words. She tells me like she's slapping me across the face with it.

"It was like he could read my mind," she tells me. I imagine she tightens her fingers around his hand when he takes it, there, in the open, on the table they share. Then standing, her lunch unfinished, she goes with him, still holding his hand. She's said three words to him. Maybe five. But mostly just listens to him read her mind.

"He wanted me to beg for it, and I did. He wanted me to say I like cheating on you. I told him I cheat whenever I want. All the time. Whenever I find a man I can't say 'no' to. A man like him. Saying it out loud - hearing my words in that hotel room - made me crazy. Even after we came, after an hour, I wanted more. I sucked him before we left and he wiped his come all over my cheek and told me to wear it home. But I cleaned it off before I came home. I was afraid someone would see. I wanted to wear it though. So you could see it. He told me I'm not married when I'm with him. He made me believe him. I wanted to do whatever he said, to be his even after I left."

It was a Saturday afternoon when she told me. We went to bed and fucked. She pummeled me with details. Each one a tiny grenade.

"I cheated on you with him. Some guy I didn't know. I wanted to wear his cum on my face so you could see it. I wanted you to know how bad I can be. I never wanted to be a slut that much, ever. God, I loved it. Every second of it. I even thought about not telling you, just to make it hotter. But I couldn't help myself. I want you to know what a slut I was."

It wasn't her usual teasing. There was intentional venom in her voice. So much pouring out of her I couldn't tell where it came from or why.

Minutes after, lying there, panting, staring at the ceiling, she seemed to be dazed. But electric with energy. Boiling over with a bizarre mixture of sex and rage. She had meant to hurt me, at least for the time it took to tell her story. And maybe also while she was fucking him. Lashing out with frustration and the need for control. Control over everything that was suffocating our fantasies, our fun, and our fucking.

I knew it was time to make the call. We both knew it was time again. Time to go back down the rabbit hole. Tine to visit Dave.



~ Day One ~

The same rules apply. She stops and undresses without being told, just inside his front door, handing each piece of clothing to him as she gets naked. Me on my knees beside her, offering her to him. Sleeveless cotton top pulled over her head as she stretches. Bare breasts thrust forward and out.

I remember the men on the plane staring as we made our way down the aisle. The guy next to her pretending to read. Unable to stop glancing at her tits and nipples. Bare, tantalizing cleavage teasing him. The deep V of her top quicksand for a man with a hardon. I imagined how much he wanted to put his hands on her. To fuck her. She flirted a little. I closed my eyes and turned my head away. Pretending to doze. Taking notes. Knowing the guy's getting her wet for Dave.

I undo the top button for her and she unzips the new skin-tight jeans. I'm kneeling there, eye level as she works her fingers inside the waist, inching them over her hips. She's shaved herself this time before we left. When I caught her doing it, she said she wanted me to see, wanted me to know how much she wants to be his.

Now, just inside his door, I stare as she reveals it to me. Slightly swollen and moist. Ready for him so soon. Flaunting her naked pussy inches from my face. No doubt proud she's wet for him. She looks down at me, into my eyes. A little smile for me. Showing me how much she needs this. How she loves it.

She doesn't wait for him to touch her, to kiss her. She goes to him and sucks him - long, slow, deliberate motions. Cupping and probing his balls gently with her fingers. It's done with patience, yet determination. Determined to drain him. To drain him in front of me. To surrender her role as my wife in front of me. Already playing his willing toy.

Faint sucking sounds, her drool wetting his shaft. I watch the lips I kiss so often surround and grasp his cock, sealing against it, twisting and sucking. It's clear what she wants - to milk him dry, to take his semen, every drop. She wants to show me how completely he owns her, and how completely she wants to be owned. When he comes, I never see a drop. She takes all of him and gulps it. Even he's surprised by her greediness. For the very first time, she doesn't gag or choke. I'm stunned.

He takes her rings. More than see it, I sense it - she's completely naked now. Unmarried. The sparkling gold and diamond symbols in his hands. He threads them onto a thin gold chain and fastens it around her neck. A reminder. To me. To her. To anyone who see them. Marriage on hold. Hungry for sex. Just ask. But no strings.

Dinner is like so many others. His favorite restaurant. Them as a couple. Me across the table watching for her reaction when his hand disappears in her lap, then between her legs, hidden by the scarlet table cloth. It seems practiced by now, but I see her eyes widen just a little, for a second, likely when his fingers touch her pussy or enter her. There. In public. I love the way her breasts rise just after. A sudden deep breath, but not quite a gasp.

"How much of her are you willing to give?"

A serious question from him to me. She glances at him, then stares at her plate. Sober. She's quiet, so I answer.

"To give? What's that mean?"

"I mean how much of your wife are you willing to give?"

I'm not sure how we can do more than we have for him. And I tell him. "She's always yours while we're here. How can I do more than that?"

He smiles at me, then presses harder into her crotch, making her squirm.

"Maybe we can show you."

He reaches behind her neck and unfastens the thin, gold chain. Her wedding ring falls into his other hand, waiting at the open V of her blouse. The gold band melts into his fist, the chain dangling from his hand like something lost and forlorn. Something captured. A neglected scrap of a meal hanging from the mouth of a smug, satiated predator.



~ Day 2 ~

The day passes quickly. Her naked in and around the pool. Me watching her every move. She seems aggressive, panther-like, her stride a little longer, her hips swaying a little more. She moves more slowly. Deliberately. Provocatively. Her breasts seem to sway and jostle a little more when she walks. Or is it just my imagination? And then there's her ever-present smile. Not a fun smile. Teasing. Threatening. Hinting at something nasty. I worry. I always worry. And that makes me imagine that her eyes narrow, her teeth predatory through her wide grin.

He pushes an extra scotch at me at the evening meal, and I think nothing of drinking it. She cleans the table while he leads me downstairs to my room.

"Let's talk - just for a little while," he promises. "L has some unique needs this weekend. Now, I know you've seen her with a lot of men, and in a fair amount of erotic play here. Some of it wasn't even "play", exactly - but I think you know that.

"Her mood is different this weekend. She's anxious, frustrated, even somewhat angry. Maybe a little at you, but also about things she can't or won't tell you. She really does want to take something from you here, I think. She wants to own more than her half of your relationship for once. And she wants to make it sting while she's doing it. Think of it like this - her claws are out and she's starved for satisfaction - or at least total satisfaction on her own terms."

I still don't get why she's off the rails. Or at least why she'd blame me for any of it. He says it's not just me. That it's everything. Life, stress, sex - all boiling up to the surface.

"All you have to do is give her what she wants," he tells me. "Let her slice off a part of you that you ordinarily wouldn't want give up. Allow her to fuck with your head, for real - she has to know she's doing it. And that she can see your loss when she looks into your eyes."

He asks for my shirt, pants, underwear and socks, and I give them up to him. He doesn't stare. Thankfully. I'm a little buzzed from the scotch, and a bit worried about what I might have to give. I imagine L's voice in my head - "drama queen". So, I let the scotch do its thing and give up the drama. He puts the cuffs on me, then a blindfold, and marches me up the stairs, my hands behind my back, and my knees a bit wobbly.

He leads me down a long hallway to room where he seats me on a hard, wooden chair. He fastens my ankles to the chair legs with another set of cuffs. There are soft footsteps in front of me. The presence of several people. Still and quiet for a while. I imagine an unseen audience, and I dread it.

I hear breathing in the room, and a slight rustle now and then, but the room stays quiet for a while. Only breathing and hints of movement across from me. Is it five minutes or fifteen? Or more?

Someone lifts my blindfold and moves away. The room is pitch black. Not a speck of light or a faint shadow.

The darkness lifts, very slightly. A lamp overhead comes slowly to life, showing a faint outline across the room. I squint. It's large and bulky, squarish, then more rounded. More light. And a little more.

L sits in a large leather chair at the opposite corner of the room. Her feet are propped up on a stool in front of her, heels together, knees spread wide. A thin, white, nearly transparent nightgown is pulled up to her waist, enough to show a bit of her lower belly. The light seems to be focused on the ******* lips of her pussy, now slightly moist and red. She shrugs her shoulders and the top collapses, ******** her breasts, now cradled by the crumpled fabric. She's staring at me. A look of determination on her face - or is it revenge? But for what?

I hear the door when he enters. He walks to her, stares, and she looks up at him. He's tall, pale, athletic, and muscular. Already erect. Young - so hard and ready. His cock juts upward, long and veiny, with a flared, angry head. It barely bounces or sways when he walks.

He steps between L's legs after she lowers her feet off the stool, and she stares at his cock. Nothing else. Not his face. Not his stomach or ass that she claims to love. He leans in and guides his cock into her, effortlessly, like he's burying it in warm butter. She's so wet and ready for him. When he's inside, he presses against her and the chair reclines, letting him put his weight into the thrust, sinking to the root.

No one says a word. He simply fucks her. She puts her legs around him and pushes with her hips, up when he thrusts, relaxing when he retreats. I catch her glance over at me, just for a spilt second. Fearless, feral. She explores his chest and stomach with her hands, then pulls his face close and kisses him. It's a boyish face, sharp features, a slight grin that boasts good looks and a healthy ego. A wife-fucker. He's getting off on that. And, I suspect, knowing I'm watching.

Her deep kiss urges him on. He fucks her harder, and her legs cross and tighten over his back. Her hands on his ass. Pulling him into her. Holding him close and deep. Like she never wants him to pull out of her between strokes. Raising her hips off the chair into him like she's part of him. Hungry pussy. Starved for strange, young cock.

As in the darkness before, I lose track of time. Do they fuck for five minutes or thirty? It seems to go on and on and on. Desperate, quiet fucking, except for her little gasps and a tiny, short moan now and then. Silently taking my wife, most likely knowing the helpless, half-naked man across the room is her husband. Maybe it's what gets him off. What gets L off too.

She comes first, with quiet restrained moans that grow to a prolonged louder one, her small hips frantically jerking into him, taking all of him, greedy for his long, hard cock. He takes longer. She cradles his face in her hands and stares into his eyes as he works. Then the tiny whisper. "Come in me."

He does, back arched, grunting and pumping, until the orgasm ends, much more quickly than L's. When he pulls out of her he wipes his cock over her chest. Rubbing her nipples with the flared head. Wet, sticky remains from inside her. Her breasts glisten with it, thick and stringy when he lifts his cock. He presses it to her lips and she cleans him. Sucking brings it only halfway back to life. But she keeps trying until he pulls away.

She looks up at him. Her eyes. Proud. Demanding. Insatiable. He's quiet, stoic, staring at her spent body. Inspecting her. Taking in the meat he fucked. Wife-meat. Her pussy his trophy. Used wife-meat. She glances at me, just to make sure I'm watching. It's a look of retribution. Revenge. Payback. But again, for what?

He turns to leave. Stops in front of me. Just stands there. Hands on his hips. Cock still half-hard and pointing at me. He doesn't have to speak. He looks down at my dick - it's erect, but feels so insignificant and useless compared to the meat that just made my wife cum. I know my place here. Even from across the room, L makes sure of that.

He looks back over his shoulder, through the darkness, at L. She stares back at him, and I see a faint tremor pass over her lower belly. A tiny, single spasm ushers a slow trickle out and down along her swollen pussy. It disappears slowly under her, between her legs. I wonder how many more times he'll fuck her. How many more times she'll want to be fucked. But she's not mine here. I still want her though, so much, in that moment. Her spent, sticky body so open and delicious. Yet so far away across the darkness. So hungry and ready. But so not her husband's wife any longer.

He leaves and the room goes dark again. I can hear her breathing. Recovering from her orgasm. I know she can feel it. The cool, wetness between her legs. Puddling beneath her. Does she imagine the juices flowing from her alive with his sperm? Teaming with predators once inside her? Could she imagine it the ultimate submission to an Alpha, welcoming his sperm, even greedy for it? Having him leave a living part of himself in her as proven claim to his territory? And an intentional insult to me? Ignoring our condom rule is a slap in the face.

Disturbing thoughts. The scotch, the sensory deprivation of the surrounding darkness, and his words - "How much of her are you willing to give?", all conspire to twist, distort, and confuse. Time passes so slowly in the dark.

Again, is it five, or fifteen minutes that passes? Or maybe even thirty? What's she thinking, there in the dark? Is she curious? Satisfied? Excited? Maybe even triumphant that I'm locked up, helpless to participate or interfere while she comes on a stranger's hard, young cock? She can be like that here. Bathing in the power. Almost cruel as time passes. Unmarried. Led to push her boundaries. Wildly celebrating an escape to another place and time where consequences no longer matter and pleasure is everything. Her bad girl running wild. Flailing. Off the rails. Not the girl I married. Now finally an unpredictable, ravenous beauty, born and built for sex.

In the last few minutes of the dark, the irony settles over me. How the innocent young girl I married, the "good girl", sits in a darkened room taking strange cock in front of me. Just a day ago, the cutest, most conventional wife on our street was on a plane with her husband, eager and hungry to give her body to other men at her destination. No one could guess what she is here. What she becomes in Dave's world. Why we both come here. The darkness isn't quite as suffocating and breathing is easier when the light in the ceiling starts to glow again.

Her eyes are closed. I doubt she notices the faint light at first. When she opens them she looks over at me, arches her back and stretches. Arms wide. Breasts thrust upward. Her knees part as she draws her heels up, opening her pussy under the light. I don't find the smile I want. Only a sober stare. She's so red and juicy between her legs, and I notice a towel under her. A wet spot just under her yawning slit.

A brief beam of light when the door opens again. He's stocky. Beefy, and taller than the first. Blond hair glowing in the dim light. His cock long and puffy but not hard. Hanging and swaying as he walks to her. "Like a thick, heavy rope," I think to myself. I'm envious.

I watch him play with her. Lifting her breasts with both large hands. Thumbs circling and pressing into her nipples. She lowers her feet to the floor and spreads wider, letting him in. Closer. Wanting more. Reaching for his cock. But he won't let her touch it. He strokes her face and hair, then forces two fingers into her mouth. Her eyes widen at first, but then she sucks them. Sucks them like candy. His other hand between her legs, playing with her pussy, two thick fingers inside her.

She plays his game, but no sighs or moans. No deep breathing. Just intent on playing. Following his lead. Submitting. I sense wariness in her, or maybe reluctance. Uncertainty. But also a willingness to please.

His cock rises and hardens. Thickens mostly. It swells as he plays with her. She glances down at it over and over. Eyes wide. Uncertain she can take it? It's immense. Maybe thicker than her biggest? I worry again. If it's good, will she want mine again? Or will she always compare? Always wish for one like it? Then, L's voice in my head - "drama queen". More oxygen. Breathe.

He leans into her. The chair reclines. His cock presses against her belly under his weight. He circles her neck with both hands. Fingers move along the back of her neck, then close tighter. Thumbs circling in front of her throat. She arches her head backward, ******** more throat to him. Submitting. Prey to be gutted and eaten by the predator if he chooses. I'm stunned at the scene. Time slows as he toys with her. They barely move. She looks into his eyes and mouths the word. Not even a whisper. But he and I both know what she says. "Please..."

He puts it in slowly. He knows in seconds how tight she is. But she's wet and sloppy and accepts him. Her hands on his hips to guide him. Maddeningly slow. He pushes and holds, pushes and holds. Entering her by fractions. Prying her open. Holding and stretching. Eventually the wrinkle on her brow softens, and her hands relax on his hips. Red marks where her fingers dug into him there. The tension in her thighs and belly vanishes, and he slowly sinks the rest of the way in. She sighs and looks up at him. I hear her ragged little gasp, her awareness that she's taken all of him. A perverse sign of accomplishment. Pursed lips fade and relax. Wide eyes staring up at him with mystical wonder.

He plays with her face, her lips. Makes her suck his finger like a cock. Which she does, eagerly, too eagerly. Both his hands on her neck then. Circling and tightening. Her eyes wide and welcoming. Her hips pinned to the chair under a slab of muscle, his meaty ass and thighs.

So much time passes. Watching her impaled by him, motionless, his cock thick and pulsing, spreading and stretching her insides. Leaving an indelible memory of the fullness. Her opening to it. His conquest of her most intimate place, and that she so willingly surrenders it. This will be with her always. Never forgotten. With other men. With me. He'll always be in her. Always the thick, welcome invader. How can this not be true?

He glides in and out of her. A slow even pace. A hand on her throat, the other supporting him over her. I count the strokes. One, two. Piston-like. A fucking machine. The root of his cock glistening as it leaves her, pulsing and expanding as it reenters. Three, four. Her calves and thighs desperately trying to pull him in. Five, then ten. Twenty, thirty, until I lose count. Tremors rack her body and she screams. Short, frantic, shrill bursts that ring through the room. Not my wife. A woman I don't know. A voice I don't recognize. He pounds her. Faster. Faster. Growling on top of her screams. Plunging to the hilt with each thrust. The time warp again. It seems to go on and on. Their chorus of fucking sounds and climax. A haphazard mix of shrieks, grunts and growls, oblivious to surroundings or observers. Attacking me across the room. I'm shaking, hard, but also feel I'm losing her body to him.

She watches him pry off the condom. Her chest bounding with a breathlessness that defies recovery. Breasts and nipples thrust up into the light overhead. So flushed, nipples angry red and hard. Legs spread wide enough to take him again. Wide enough to beg for more. Pussy red and dripping. Her head falls to one side, toward me. Staring at me. Her eyes say, "Look what he did to me - how he fucked me. Not like you do. So much better."

He holds the condom inches from her face. The tip weighted with his cum, it swings like a pendulum. The opening is immense.

"You want this, don't you?" he says to her.

She can barely answer. Can barely breathe. God her tits are beautiful like that - pushed upward so high and firm with each breath.

"Yes," she whispers.

He puts the opening to her lips. She closes them around the gaping, open end, arches her neck, and drinks. He holds the tip in the air above her and squeezes the semen down along the length of it into her mouth. I see her reach out to hold his cock while she drinks from the condom. Simply testing the weight of it as she cradles it in her hand. Fondling it with her fingers like it's a loving pet. I've never seen her more submissive, rabid, and defiant, all at the same time. A scene burned into my memory for life.

He turns his head to look at me while she drinks. Helpless in my chair.

"Maybe I should do it again - leave all that in your wife's pretty little pussy?" he tells me.

She stares at his bare ass as he walks to me. Standing in front of me. Drapes the empty condom over my leg. Meaty cock swinging triumphantly between his legs. Even deflated, it's huge. Unbelievably thick. He wants me to look at it. Wants me to remember it entering her, stretching my wife. How much she loved it. I feel small. Helpless. Beta. Not even beta. It works. I'm all that in the moment. In the no-man's land between fantasy and reality. Feeling my way between the darkness and the light, now literally as the room dims again.

L's breathless, throaty voice in the dark.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

After a few seconds hesitation, she answers.

"Good."

***

I should know better. It's always like this. She has a second sense of when I'm teetering on the edge. Seeing her inner slut freed isn't a common thing for me. Or for her. Letting go, being that slut in the moment is what she's tried so desperately to achieve. And it's my fantasy. Always has been. In her usual way, she's surpassed what she's put her mind to. She's surpassed me as well at pushing the envelope and existing in the present, no matter what the game. She knows keeping me off balance is what I love about her, so she's learned that game to perfection as well. That she can be so slutty and then so grounded astonishes me. Then she can blur the line between fantasy and reality again in an instant.

Her "Are you okay?" grounds me. But her final response, "Good", is laced with an obvious mix of satisfaction and power. Not every bit the kind concern I first expect. It twists me around. Promises nothing. And keeps the door open and waiting. The door.

I hear it open and close. Footsteps across the room to where L sits. Shuffling and a muffled voice. Minutes pass. Finally, a very dim light come to life. The chair where she sat is empty.

Dave enters the room and uncuffs me. He has another scotch for me and I welcome the first swallow. "L and I are going out for a while," he says. "It will give you time to think about what more you have to give. I'm sure you saw how much she enjoyed tonight. She was able to detach herself from you. See herself not as your wife, enjoying the sex for the sex alone. She lowered you to a bystander, as though you were nothing to her. Not permanently, I'm sure - but she is that woman now, as often as she wants to be."

I tell him none of it is new, and it's what we come here for. I'm fine. I've given no more of her than usual when L wants sex with someone else. Except letting the guy come in her. Breaking our agreement. Doing it, using it almost as a weapon, is disturbing. He says it's her decision, not a weapon, even if it feels like one to me. A decision I have no say about. Her body. Her pussy. Her need to both submit and control at the same time.

"Have you ever considered that your place in her sex life may be shifting? Not only that she may take lovers more often, and have sex with them more than she does with you, but that in her mind, in all honestly, she prefers them to you. Sex with you becomes a duty, a kind of "maintenance" for your marriage. The real heat, and the only sex that completely satiates it comes from other men. New men who fill her fantasy world. What if giving more of her meant accepting your place as a provider of maintenance sex? Taking less of a role in your involvement with who she fucks? The when, why, and how of it all? Taking a step down. Giving up that small piece of her that you imagine keeps you on an equal plane with her other lovers. She'd never tell you, but maybe she wants that."

I'm surprised to find L using the shower in my basement bedroom. I stare as she towels herself, and she smiles at me. A warm smile. I try to juggle the image of her squeaky-clean body against the one just a while ago that was leaking a stranger's sperm. I mean, what the fuck? Should I ask, or scold her about letting him come in her? She's soft and sweet now. Such a delicious sight. I really want her. I'll do anything to have her. To feel her pussy clench my dick like she did the others.

I'm sitting on the edge of the bed, and she sits beside me, still naked. She unfastens my belt and pants and fishes for my dick. I'm so hard for her. Surprised she's putting the condom on me. Part of the game, I guess.

"You deserve this after everything today," she tells me. "Did you enjoy it? It got you excited, didn't it?"

I told her it did. I also asked about taking the guy's cum in her. Whether it was planned. Whether she had worried about it.

"I didn't know he was going to do it, but I did want it. He was so young and cute. Such a great body. For a few minutes I just didn't care about our rules or anything else. After that I wanted you to see him cum in me. I just, well, liked throwing it in your face. I don't know why. Actually, for a second or two I imagined how cute our baby would be if he got me pregnant. Still, I wouldn't want it to go that far. Neither would you, right?"

I'm speechless, and really hard, and she seems to like that. Likes making me hard thinking of him fucking her. His sperm inside her. Playing with my balls and stroking me. Such a satisfied smile.

"Hmmm - I think you liked giving me to them, didn't you? I think you liked seeing him cum in me too, didn't you?"

I tell her I did. I reach for her breast and cup it in my hand.

"Nooo - you don't get to do that here. You know that. You know why, don't you?"

I tell her yes, that she belongs to him here, and she says I'm right. But she wants me to tell her. To say it while she strokes me. I tell her.

"I can't have you here. You belong to him. Only he can touch you, and fuck you."

"That's right. Almost right. Men Dave brings here for me own me too. Anyone can have me but you here."

"Yes," I tell her. "Everyone except me. Everyone can fuck you except me. I know that. I love seeing them slide inside you. And when you cum with them. But it's hard sometimes, not having you afterwards."

"I know that, Don. I mean, I can see that. So I decided to help you out, just this one time. Just keep telling me how much you want them to fuck me."

I close my eyes and go on. But not for long before I cum while I imagine her with his cock spewing into her. Her moaning and cumming under him.

She slides the condom off. Holds it up to look at my load. Then asks me to come with her. We go upstairs and find Dave in the kitchen. He watches her. Amused? Pleased? Playing his game? She empties the condom onto a saucer, then puts it in the microwave.

"We can't have your sperm here when there's so much to enjoy from other men, Don. Yours can't be allowed to compete."

She hits the button and fries it. Expanding at first, then bubbling before turning to a small crust. Killing my sperm. Obliterating every last one before it may find its way into her. Her pussy's only for other men's' sperm. I get the message.

Dave takes her up to his bed and I put the plate in the dishwasher. I know he'll fuck her tonight. I just don't know how many times. Or if he'll use a condom.



~ Day 3 ~

She makes breakfast for us the next morning in fuck-me heels and one of Dave's unbuttoned dress shirts with nothing underneath. Serves us eggs with hot sauce. Bacon. Spicy tomato juice with just a hint of vodka. Dave's even made her a better cook.

Their night out may forever remain a secret - at least that's how they're playing it. L shoots me a grin now and then, just to tease me. She's fresh and sexy, exaggerating the way she sways her hips, making sure her breasts fall out of the shirt as she leans over to fill my glass. All smiles and suggestive energy. I find myself thinking of her not as my wife, but as this irresistible woman I want to fuck. A woman who likely gets a lot of great cock. One I have little chance with here.

He's planned a beach day for us. A new bikini for L. And this tiny Speedo looking thing for me. We dress in my basement bedroom. L's hot pink bikini barely covers her, just short of scandalous. Still, I can see the indent of her slit and the swell of her pussy lips beneath it.

They talk about L and her men on the twenty minute drive. Which cocks she liked the best. What she liked about the "mystery room" with unknown strangers. I'm surprised at how candid she is. Dave brings that out in her. Describing how each cock felt. Comparing orgasms. I'm hard in the Speedo, and worried about how I'll hide it.

It's a Saturday. The beach is teaming with young girls oiled to perfection and hunky guys strutting their stuff. Families are scattered in between. Toddlers and teens scurrying back and forth from the water, ignored by their parents. It's crowded. Almost chaos.

Dave turns the car and drives east. The main beach fades away. We pass home after home on stilts. Pink and green stucco. Swimming pools and tennis courts. On the right, towering sand dunes open now and then to reveal miles of emerald water just beyond. It's paradise, on a normal day.

We drive for another thirty minutes, past twenty story condos, even taller dunes topped with scattered sea oats, until we pull into a small parking space at the side of the road. There's an open pavilion with picnic tables, and beyond, limitless, open blue water.

As we carry a few large beach towels and cooler from the car, I'm a bit flustered by how much skin L is showing. In the sunlight, she seems almost nude to me. So much soft ivory skin for anyone to see, to gawk at, to want to fuck. I get hard in the Speedo and find a place to sit in the pavilion to hide it. L notices, sits beside me, and runs her finger up and down the bright blue bulge of my cock, grinning. I look up and down the beach, hoping no one shows up. We're alone, so far.

We follow Dave onto the beach, put down our towels and cooler, and relax. Dave wants her to get wet, so she pads to the water and wades in to mid-thigh. He's in up to his chest and motions her to follow into deeper water. When she's next to him, I see his hands fondle her under the water. She's laughing, moving closer to him, happy to let him play with her.

I'm hard again, kind of proud of it, actually. I lay there on my towel with my boner rising up beneath the Speedo, not a care in the world. Until I'm invaded by five or six guys charging down a nearby sand dune. They're yelling and barking, probably a little *****. I cover myself with a spare towel, but they continue down the beach fifty yards where they rush to the water and dive in.

I look back where L and Dave were having their fun. They're up to L's shoulders in the water, kissing and pawing each other, still unnoticed by the guys. As they make their way back to our towels, L's adjusting her bikini bottom, tugging on the front to keep it above her pussy. She doesn't notice the top has climbed up, ******** wet, firm lower curves of ******* flesh. I look down the beach, but the guys are still in the water, oblivious to what might tempt them to pay us a visit.

Back on our towels, Dave's loose trunks can't quite hide the remains of his erection, and L is still tugging at her top and bottom to stay decent.

Dave looks over at her and asks, "That the first time you've cum under water?"

She thinks for a second.

"Yes - well, at least like that." She's grinning ear to ear.

He teases her for a while. How she almost lost her bikini. That he thinks it was on purpose - that she wants to show off her body. That maybe he should make her take off her top - or maybe even get naked right here on the beach. She goes sober, thinking he might actually do it. Wondering if she might dare, here in public. He lets it pass, and she lies back, more serious. Then her smile returns and she's up on one elbow facing me.

"Would you want me to do that, Don? Go topless here in public?"

I return a smile and tell her I'd love to see her naked on the beach. She tells me, "in your dreams".

The guys down the beach are noisier now, passing around a football, kicking up sand. They're all tanned and slim, used to the beach in summer. L's looking now. Aware we're not alone. No way she's going topless now.

"They look thirsty," Dave says out of the blue. "Why don't you offer them a few beers?"

L says, "Umm, I don't think so. Not like this." She's still tugging on her top which seems to have shrunk after drying in the sun.

"No - I mean both of you. You can't carry enough by yourself. And Don, you should introduce yourselves. Make some new friends. Show off your pretty wife. Maybe watch her flirt a little. You'd probably like that, wouldn't you, L?"

***

Reluctantly, we carried six beers down the beach, soon drawing their attention. Of course they stared at L for twenty yards before we got close enough to speak. I introduced L and myself and offered them the beer. They were appreciative - obviously overly enthusiastic. Popping the tabs, all attention fixed on L. Suggesting she sit with them. Complimenting her bikini - and all too soon her body. L went with it. Smiling. Flirting. Dividing her attention equally between each one of them. And ignoring me as I stood there and watched.

"You know, you should be careful about bringing your wife around guys like us," one of them told me, grinning. "We might just persuade her to party with us later."

It was a familiar scenario - one I had struggled with from the time L and I dated. This time it was six players against one husband, and I had no idea what to say. I saw L grinning as well, and I was frozen in place. The awkward husband of a sexy wife. A sexy wife who liked what she saw.

L and I stood over them as they sat in the sand, trading suggestive innuendos, L holding her own in the midst of six horny guys.

They kept teasing her. Hitting on her. Tempting her. All eyes on her body, each mouth open and thirsty for her as they made repeated innuendos about their cock sizes and how great they were at fucking.

"You should come back with us, L. There's a party tonight. You won't mind, right?" they asked me, all still joking with wide grins.

L looks at me.

"Well, would you mind?"

Lots of laughter at my expense. L smiling at me, curious about how I'd answer. My answer is involuntary - an uncontrollable growing erection.

They guys stared at me in disbelief.

"Woahhh - I think he's good with it," one of them jokes.

L goes to her knees and traces the outline of my cock with her finger. The guys are silent and wide-eyed. She squeezes my erection through the Speedo and pumps it a little. I have no idea what's going on.

L unfastens her top and shrugs it off. She's still on her knees facing them as they sit in a half-circle around her.

"You really should know I'm not that easy, guys. Not that I don't get a little on the side now and then. Still, this is what the right guy could be getting tonight. The right guy."

L peels my Speedo down a little and takes my dick in her mouth. The guys are deadly quiet. She sucks me for a few seconds. Cups my balls in her hand. Licks me from tip to root, and does her swirly thing with as much of me as she can take in her mouth. I want to cum like a porn star, but I don't. Shock, stage fright, and too little time. She puts me back in my Speedo, stands up, puts on her top, and surveys the guys like she's inspecting meat at the market.

"Enjoy the beer, guys," she says with her sexiest grin. She takes my hand and we walk away.

Dave has been watching, but wants L's story when we get back. She lies down beside him, throws a bare leg over his, and kisses him on the cheek.

"You were right - they were really thirsty," she tells him. I see her eyes close, her lips grow into a satisfied smile, and her face nuzzle Dave's neck. That's all she said.

Neither of us has any more to tell him. Every bit of credit is L's. No way I want to take any of it away from her, and it seems like sharing more than we had between us would do just that. Dave pushed us in the right direction, but it was all L when it really counted. She played all of us like she controlled every grain of sand on the beach.

I wonder what the guys thought as we walked away. Is she wife, siren, ballbuster, or *****? We don't hear a word from them on our walk back. They're gone by the time we reach our place on the beach by Dave. It's quiet. He strokes her breast and stares at the sky, deep in thought.

Later, she and Dave go in the water again and L jerks him off. I can't really see it, but I can tell by the way she's moving her arms in the chest-deep water. His hands are groping her under her top, which can be seen by anyone who might happen by. But no one does. They continue to play a while after he cums. Her arms now around his shoulders. He hoists up to eye level while they kiss. It's long, deep, and intense. Endless, it seems. I'm getting hard again.

For once I'm completely at ease with the intimacy. Excited by it, in fact. I don't care that she might have feelings for him, that she's comfortable with him as a sex partner. He's become a trusted friend of sorts. Respected. It's not unreasonable that she loves intimacy with him. Just as she loves it with me. That's the point, I think. I'm not threatened by it. Because I know she loves me. I know that with certainty by now. Watching them kiss like lovers is an amazingly beautiful sight. And I know her nipples are hard and her pussy's wetter than the water around her.

***

We stop at the main beach on our way back. It's a popular crab house with an outdoor patio and elevated pier that runs over the beach and water. L starts to put on a T-shirt and shorts over her bikini before Dave tells her to stop.

"I'm not sure they'll let me in there like this," she says.

He suggests wearing the T-shirt without her top under it, tied in a knot just below her breasts. "You won't need the shorts - I'm sure no one will notice," he says. She eyes him with trepidation, then complies. L always complies when it's Dave.

The restaurant isn't formal. We see lots of skin inside, but all with tops and shorts. L draws a lot of attention just getting to the front door. Yes, her top is covered, but the tiny bikini bottom just below her bare belly has a lot of guys staring. They seat us and we order drinks and assorted appetizers. L gets less attention seated, although her breasts and nipples are clearly outlined under the damp T-shirt. I'm happy about that. Dave's happy about that. And I see a few others near us are as well.

Our server is a tall, slim, suntanned girl with tits right out of Playboy. Her halter top guarantees everyone looks, and I'm sure it helps with her tips. Dave and I try not to stare, but L notices anyway.

"Well, I guess you're both glad we stopped here," she complains, grinning.

Dave and I just grin back and nod. The girl is drop-dead gorgeous. This is going to be an amazing meal.

Except before we can get our second drink, her shift is over and she's leaving. Of course her replacement is a young college guy who can't keep his eyes off L. She beams with revenge. Smug little smiles to Dave and me. I offer to go find the girl to make sure she gets her tip. L clutches my hand and says, "Don - she'll be fine without you watching out for her." I tell L that the girl might be able to afford more clothes if she has more money, but she isn't buying my joke. Her look says she's serious, so I let it go. Sigh. Did I say the girl was drop-dead gorgeous?

Bent on revenge, L flirts with our waiter constantly, and he flirts back like Dave and I aren't there. The guy's tall and lean, heavily tanned, with black hair and a short beard. Right out of a men's fashion magazine. Open shirt, tanned chest, good cheekbones and a toothy smile. Do they clone these people here? He's exactly L's fantasy dream guy. And - I guess it's payback time.

L sits up when he's at our table, pushes her chest out, not afraid of showing what she has at all now. She gets up to use the rest room and wiggles by him, her bikini-clad ass a thing of beauty. He doesn't miss a second of it, and waits for her to wiggle by again when she returns. I'm loving it, and almost forget about Miss Playboy Tits.

"I saw what you did," I tell her.

"What? I didn't do anything..." She's all grins and nipples.

"So, do you want him?" I ask.

"Him? Him who, Don?" An unsuccessful wide-eyed innocent look from her.

I give in. "OK - we'll just watch you work."

"You'd like that, wouldn't you? Me seducing him? Watching us fuck?"

I glance around to see if anyone hears her, and Mr. Tanned Chest is right behind me at the next table. He turns to look at us just at that instant, with a grin that tells me, "Yes, I'm going to fuck your wife."

I've had a few drinks, I've already bought L's fantasy, and I'm beyond embarrassment. I put my hands out, palms up, look right at him, and tell him, "So...?".

The guy doesn't flinch. He looks at L, never stops smiling, and repeats my "Sooo...?"

L says, "I guess you heard everything. Did you hear everything?"

He says he has. And then another "So...?"

L answers with, "I guess you could come home with us, if you really want to..."

She knows he wants to fuck her, but she loves to hear them beg. I can't believe her body language, pushing her tits out, arching her back, playing with the silverware on the table in front of her like she needs to keep her fingers busy somewhere else. She's almost overdoing it. Venturing into shameless slutting in front of the guy. I'm afraid it's too much - that she'll scare him off. Instead, he just stares as though she's put him in a trance. How does she always know what bait to use?

His shift isn't over for hours, not until midnight.

"But I'll see if I can get off early," he says to L, again like Dave and I aren't there. I think that, yes, "getting off" early is exactly what he wants tonight. I keep the pun to myself.

We stay another hour, he comps us dessert, Dave gives him the address, and he follows us home.

There are brief pleasantries. Other stuff that's lost to my memory. L leads him downstairs to my basement bedroom, and I take the sofa. Dave and I watch TV for a while, just to give them time to "bond", or whatever. I suppose it's supposed to let Mr. Tanned Chest feel like it's just another night. That we're not at all interested. But he knows L's my wife. It must be a bit surreal to him. Or maybe not. He seems cool with all of it. He has all night long.

Dave goes upstairs to bed. I toss and turn on the couch for a while before sneaking down the stairs to listen. The door's open a crack. Not sure whether he agreed to it or L just knew I'd want to peek.

My eyes adjust, and she's riding him, telling him how good his cock feels. Even better than her husband's. That seems to push his button. He rolls her over and fucks her fast and hard. She pulls herself up to put her arms around him. Wants to sit in his lap. Both glued together, tits against his tanned chest. Clutching him with her arms. Chin on his shoulder. Quiet whispers in his ear as he pumps his hips against hers. Pumps his cock into my wife's tight little pussy.

I back away from the door and play with myself. Lose touch of time and the space around me. And bump the door open as I stumble against it. L looks over at me. My zipper down, my dick in my hand. Then he looks too. Fucking hell.

"Come on...come in. You can watch." L's soft voice bringing calm to an awkward situation. Mr. Tanned Chest doesn't say a word, but nods and motions me in. I can't move at first. Frozen there with my dick out.

"It's OK, Don. Really. Sit."

I go in, trying to be invisible, and take a seat across the room.

"You want to watch him fuck me, don't you Don?"

L still has her arms around him, both of them upright as she sits in his lap facing him with his cock inside her. I've watched men fuck her before, but this is different. I'm not sure why. But I feel like it's the first time. Very strange. But good strange. I nod, and manage a quiet, "Yes".

She kisses him, and they're fucking again. Quietly, then grunting and gasping. She rolls over and spreads her legs, and he's inside her in a second. She's so wet. A couple of thrusts and I see his cock's just as wet. He's not thick, but very long - using all of it to stroke her pussy. In and out, slow then fast. Teasing her. Torturing her until she uses everything she knows.

I can't believe what she's telling him. Not like her at all.

"Oh god, you feel so good inside me. It feels sooo good. Please don't cum yet. Show him how you fuck me. Show my husband how to fuck me. Please..."

I can't hold back and cum while she's saying it. A monstrous orgasm. Almost a seizure. And they keep fucking.

I sit in wonder. Spent. Listening to her beg him to fuck her. Feeling like a drained spectator after a sports event where both teams are my favorites and I can't decide who to cheer for but it's over and now I have to go home.

She stops begging, whimpers a few times, the lets out a long moan. Clawing at him. Thrusting her hips into him. Eyes closed, Head back. Every muscle under her moist, pale skin rigid and trembling in the semi-darkness. I'm not even sure when her orgasm lets up. In time her body softens a bit but she's still clutching him. Staring up into his eyes. Hands on his ass. Nipples hard for to him like they're reaching up to him for more.

And they just keep fucking. She's limp and sweaty, still caressing his arms and chest as he pumps in and out her. It ends with his groan, cock buried to the hilt inside her, then her mouth on his, muffling the sounds he makes. She's into this guy, kissing him deeply for so long. Taking his mouth while his orgasm fades into collapse.

They stroke each other in afterglow. Still welded together on the bed. I've had enough and make my way upstairs to sleep. Tossing and turning. Reliving what I'll never forget. Kissing. Fucking. Begging him to show me how to fuck her. Begging him to cum in her. How fucking amazing it is to have her as my wife.



~ Day 4 ~


I wake the next morning on the sofa to sounds of L making breakfast. Feeling like I had about two hours sleep. Still with fresh memories of L kissing him and moaning. And a screaming morning hard-on.

Not sure if Mr. Tanned Chest is there in the kitchen, so I sneak downstairs to shower and shave. Thirty minutes later I'm eating breakfast with L and Dave. I ask about her new friend, and L tells me "Marc" left early, but said to thank me. I have to smile at that and tease her a little. "Thank me for fucking you?" She teases right back. "Oh - that was much more than fucking..."

Dave asks if I enjoyed watching them, and I assure him I did. He just smiles. L is unusually quiet and leaves to shower the remains of Marc off her.

"She tells me last night was special," Dave tells me.

"I guess - I could tell she really enjoyed herself."

"I think it may have been more than that, Don. Tell me - did you sense something different? A special chemistry between them? That maybe it was more than just sex?"

I'm stunned that L has told him so much so soon. Dave wasn't watching. But he knows more than I do about their "chemistry."

"Remember what we talked about? That you may give up the part of her that, in your mind, keeps you an equal to her lovers in her bed. At least in an intimate sense? Did you feel some of that last night? That she gave more of herself to Marc than she has her other lovers? Not just her body, but her, well, should we say "soul"? Did you sense she robbed you of a piece of your intimacy together and gave it to him? Even if was only for a few hours?"

It's not a comfortable feeling, but he touches on why I felt like I was seeing her with another man for the first time. I would never have realized it on my own, or admitted it to myself. Images of them together come back to me in that instant. Them as a couple. L so happy, so satisfied as she sits on his cock and kisses him.

But this is what Dave does. He blurs the distinction between the game and reality. He invents, excites, sometimes hurts, teaches, and changes us when all is said and done. Opens another door. Helps us understand a bit more of who we are and why we crave all this. So I'm cautious. Not ready to accept his notion. But it's still there, worming around in my head. Leaving a faint trail of angst as it burrows. Prodding and chewing at my ability to reason. Embellishing those images of L from last night. Excreting a mixture of worry and excitement as it settles in and finds a home.

L comes back downstairs from her shower after Dave and I talk. There are times when I find L exceptionally beautiful. Times when I think maybe she's paid extra attention to her hair or makeup. Not times when she's glamorous, but times when she's so fresh and sexy I can't put my finger on one specific reason why. Carefree. Bright. Bouncy. Delicious.

I ask Dave if we can spend the day in public. Something in me wants to show her off. To see Dave convince everyone she's his wife, or girlfriend, or plaything. She's wearing this little white jumpsuit with tiny pink and blue flowers scattered over it. It's short with an elastic border at the top that clings over her bare shoulders. Gathers at the waist but roomy, hiding much of her figure. Bare legs. Sandals. Playful. Innocent. Wifey.

L looks a bit sheepish.

"Um - well, Marc and I kind of planned to spend the day together, Don."

I check the sinking feeling in my gut with full knowledge that this plays all too well into Dave's narrative. Giving up a piece of her. Being the "maintenance" husband. Had they arranged this to fix the game? I can never tell. Still, it hurts a little - I want to be with her in public today, to show her off. But I commit to rising above the drama.

"He's picking me up in a little while. It'll just be for part of the day. He has to work tonight." L can't hide her excitement.

***

Marc thanks me again at the door when he picks her up. No awkwardness at all on his part. It's like he's dating my sister. He's picked a pink blossom from the neighbor's flower bed, puts it in her hair and kisses her briefly on the lips. I see her nipples rise to small points beneath the cotton jumper. As they walk to his car the morning sun lights up the fabric and displays the outline of her body. She's naked under the blue and pink flowers. I wonder how long it will take for him to put his hands on her. To put his cock in her, again. For her to tell him it's the best cock she's ever had.

He drops her off in the late afternoon. She's quiet, mysterious about where they've been, what they did. She's fresh and bright- eyed, flower still in her hair. He's bought her a necklace. A simple, silver chain with a single white, pink, and blue porcelain flower suspended from it. It matches those on her dress as though it was plucked from it. She fingers it delicately, showing it to me. "Isn't it perfect?" she gushes. I stare at it, her perfect skin beneath it, the cleft between her breasts just under the elastic of the top. I imagine him pulling the elastic down. Sucking on her nipples somewhere in the sunlight where they managed to be alone. Him fingering her wet pussy there, making her cum with his hand. Both L and he excited by her illicit moans in public where anyone might hear.

"He's working tonight, and he's invited us to dinner, on him - you know, where we met. He really wants to do something to thank you before we leave, Don. He's a great guy."

I'm tempted to say, "Yeah, with a great cock." But it seems too crude for some reason. I know she likes him. I'll play. And get a free delicious seafood dinner.

Marc seats us when we get there. It all looks prearranged. A brief kiss for L just inside the door. Her on her tiptoes, hands on his chest for two seconds when she kisses back. He brings a sampler tray before we have a chance to order. His hand on the back of L's neck as he puts the tray in front of us. Affectionate glances and smiles between them.

L has other admirers. A group of men in their fifties at the table beside us steal glances at her. Across the room a guy in his twenties with his date/girlfriend can't keep his eyes off L - his date notices and isn't pleased. Two other waiters look and smile at L each time they pass by. A surfer boy and a jock, more hunky clones here. Friends of Marc's? No doubt.

It's not like there's nothing to see. L's wearing a lacy white top. It isn't scandalous at first glance, but after a longer look scattered openings in the lace reveal the curves of her breasts and the pink of her nipples when the light is right. Her matching white shorts are just tight enough to show she isn't wearing anything under them. She isn't outrageously dressed compared to many of the other girls. But she's a cock magnet tonight. Maybe it's her attitude. She's such a sexy little thing tonight. And she knows it.

Surfer Boy and Jock stop to chat now and then. Just to "make sure we're enjoying the meal". L flirts when they hit on her, but they scram when Marc checks on us. L has lobster - I know it makes her almost as wet as great cock. The meal is wonderful, from appetizers to desserts.

Later we drink for a while at the bar, all on Marc's tab. L's getting buzzed on her third strawberry daiquiri. I'm on my third scotch. Dave encourages me to enjoy - he's driving, and limits his martinis to one per hour.

A local band sets up on a small stage in the far corner and fills the place with reggae. Guys come out of the woodwork to ask L to dance, but she turns them down. Waiters Surfer Boy and Jock wander over now and then to flirt, and she's loving that. She's over her alcohol limit, and promising them, one way or another, more than she's likely to deliver. They see a glimmer of hope though and persist.

L excuses herself to go to the restroom and disappears. For far too long. I circle the room, check outside, and can't find her anywhere. I wander around the parking lot then circle to the back of the building. In the shadows behind a dumpster I see them. Marc has her pressed against the wall. They're kissing endlessly. His hand is under her top, and she's rubbing his cock through his pants. I wait for more, but they stop, say a few words, and he takes her back inside through the kitchen entrance.

Back at the bar, L tells me Marc wants her to go home with him tonight, if that's OK. The music's so loud she has to put her lips against my ear to tell me. I'm fine with it, but want some extra dirt.

"Tell me what the two of you have planned," I answer into her ear through cupped hands. My turn to tease.

She grins. She knows she has my blessing, but I'm still kind of glad she feels she needs to ask. She's against my ear again, as sexy and soft as she can be over the music.

"You know what he did to me last night? Well, multiply that by ten. You can't even imagine..."

The lengths she'll go to tease me back. I smile and nod, wondering if I get to watch again. She's having the time of her life.

"He'll bring me back tomorrow sometime. When we recover..."

I get her evil grin this time. Now I know they'll be alone.



~ Day 5 ~

He brings her back just before noon the next day. Dave invites him in for lunch, and the four of us eat in the lanai near the pool. Marc doesn't ask, but he's clearly confused by Dave's relationship with us. Dave explains - he's L's Dom/friend/lover/mentor. Tells a bit about our history over the years. How I get off seeing her fucked. And how she's become a freer, more open hotwife. Marc seems satisfied. Accepting. But new to all of it. Mostly fascinated from what I can tell. Not a Bull, yet. Just a skillful player.

Marc kisses her goodbye at the door. A long, passionate kiss. He shakes my hand and thanks me again. I gladly accept and tell him he's welcome, any time. He promises to take me up on that.

Before our flight home that evening, Dave asks L about her new friend. The sex. The chemistry.

"Is there something there that's missing with Don?" He asks. "How does the sex compare?"

L looks over at me, serious, confident, but with a hint of "bad girl" in her eyes.

"Well - he was very, very good. So adorable. Such a great body. And this wonderful, reliable penis that just goes and goes. A really nice guy. I guess he's the kind of guy I used to think I'd never get to have sex with. He surprised me. I guess he kind of "won" me the first time I saw he was serious. So yes, some things Don doesn't have. Marc has an instant magic women can't resist."

She stops then, I think after she realizes she's gushing about what I don't have. "But you realize it's not serious, right?" she tells me. "I mean, his friend wouldn't have been there too last night if I'm that serious about Marc."

That she did his friend is a sudden distraction - probably one she meant to use. I'm caught off-guard, surprised and silent.

"I was going to tell you - there just wasn't time yet. It was the other waiter, the guy with all the muscles. You know how much I like that, right? Anyway, I was a little *****, and they both wanted me, and I wanted them, so we did it. I'm not sorry, Don. The sex was great. Just think about all the things I have to tell you when we get home."

Agreed, the sex is one thing, and that she wanted it with both of them made her case for simply wanting cock from two hunky guys. But there is true passion between her and Marc, and I tell her that. I ask her if she'd consider him the ultimate boyfriend. Enough so to be exclusive, at least for a while.

"I suppose I could. Mostly as a fantasy though. We live too far away, and I'm sure he has other women - lots of them."

Dave interrupts.

"But is there something there that could take a part of what you feel for Don? If Marc wanted you for himself? Not love, really. More of a piece of your sex Don would have to surrender to Marc to make you happy?"

She looks like she knows the answer but doesn't want to say it.

"I can't answer that, Dave. I wouldn't want that, intentionally. But I suppose it could happen. I'd never plan it."

She looks at me again, more serious this time.

"Would you want that? Giving him part of me? Does that excite you? Sometimes I can't tell and I don't want to hurt you."

I tell her I want her to be honest, always. And that I won't ever try to control her sex life. I'm not sure if that's even an answer.

I suppose Dave senses an awkward impasse too emotional to dwell on. His thing is leading us right up to the edge, then letting us find our way back on our own over the passing weeks or months.

"Well, something to think about after you get back. I'm sure you'll figure it out, together," he tells us.

"We always do," L tells him, with a reassuring smile. All I can think about is L spreading her legs for all of them, Dave and Marc and Jock, begging them to fuck her harder, her world dissolving into wanton bliss with each orgasm they give her. I've already given so much of her that I can't imagine that someone taking a little more would matter. Thanks to L, I always have enough. Always what I need. What we need.



~Return~

The flight home is uneventful. L wears jeans and a lavender blouse that no one would consider tempting or suggestive. A sign she's my wife again. Just an ordinary, pretty wife. But under the blouse her tiny bra is all black lace and barely covers her nipples. A gift from Dave. And her blouse is open just enough to show it when she bends over to get in her seat. So she still gets looks from a few men on the plane. I wonder what they think. Is she my innocent wife? Or something secretly more provocative underneath? I tell myself they all want to fuck her. But now no one has the balls to hit on her. To hit on my secret hotwife. I take her hand. She puts her head on my shoulder and sighs. I doze, thankful for a smooth flight. And I dream of her tongue in Marc's mouth, her legs wrapped around him, taking the long, slow, prying girth of his relentless cock deep inside her, begging him, thanking him for giving her the kind of sex her husband doesn't.

The plane jolts and shudders on its descent. I wake with L's hand in my lap, gently massaging my erection through my pants.

"You know what we have to do when we get home, don't you?" she whispers in my ear. A line taken from one of my favorite movies. I play along, gladly.

"No, what?" I ask.

"Fuck."
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don_jetman
We're a couple that loves role play, both hotwife and cuckold themed, for over 10 years now. We still spend time with L's very first lover, an accomplished Dom with an active imagination who has orchestrated some exciting and challenging scenarios for us. We do mostly hotwifing, but venture into the cuck theme when our needs lead us there.

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Don Jetman
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