At work the next morning, Darla was still buzzing from the night before. She could barely sit still. Her legs bounced nervously under her desk, and a permanent smile tugged at her lips no matter how hard she tried to hide it.

Darla couldn’t wait to tell Margie everything—especially that Fred had finally agreed to meet her Friday night. That thought alone sent a little thrill through her. She wanted more with Fred, something dirtier, something that would push them further than they’d ever gone. And she hoped Margie was the one who could take them there.

As soon as Darla had a moment, she ducked into the breakroom. There was Margie, as effortlessly alluring as ever, casually stirring her coffee; she was a vision of temptation that nearly knocked the breath out of her.

Margie looked over at Darla and smiled. “Well, well, look who it is—my sexy little newlywed. You’re practically glowing, sugar. Don’t tell me…” She leaned in closer and gave Darla a playful smirk. “You did it.”

Darla couldn’t contain the giggle that bubbled up, her face flushed instantaneously. She grabbed a mug and poured a coffee, trying to hide her nerves. “Margie—shh.” She looked around, leaning in closer, and whispered, “Yeah. I did.”

Margie’s eyes widened. “And?”

Darla let out a long, shaky breath as she nervously stirred her coffee over and over. “Jesus, Margie, it was so hot. He came so hard. I mean…like, really hard. I’ve never seen Fred like that.”

Margie gave a low, sultry chuckle, clearly revelling in the moment. “Told you, sugar. Put that mouth to work, and men will worship you.”

Darla couldn’t help but smile, her cheeks still ablaze. “Yeah, you were spot on.”

“I always am about these things,” Margie took another sip of her coffee, then eyed Darla over the rim of the cup with a sneaky grin. “So, what did he say about me?”

Darla was so excited to share the news with her. “You’re not gonna believe it,” she whispered, leaning closer. “Dinner. Friday night. At our place.”

Margie raised her brows in surprise. “Huh. I didn’t think he’d cave that quickly. Fred must have really loved your sweet mouth!“ she chuckled again, a little louder this time.

Darla’s voice dropped to an even lower whisper. “But… what are we actually gonna do? I mean…how does it start, how…” and her voice trailed off.

Margie’s fingers brushed against her wrist—tingles raced up Darla’s arm. “Shhh, sugar, we don’t do anything you’re not ready for,” she whispered, her voice low and soft. “No pressure. Just…exploration. I’ll guide you. You’ll know what feels right.”

Darla swallowed hard and drifted toward Margie without even meaning to, already caught in that little spell Margie cast oh so well. She nodded, holding on to the counter to steady herself.

Then a smirk crept onto Darla’s lips, still a little nervous but curious. “Something tells me it’s gonna feel really right.”

Margie winked. “Friday, then. I’ll bring the wine.”

For Darla, the rest of the week was a blur. By Friday morning, she was like a tightly wound coil—restless, distracted, practically squirming in her chair at the thought of the evening ahead.

When Darla got home from work, music played while Fred tidied up their small apartment. They moved around the apartment like a couple of teenagers before their first sleepover—straightening, checking, and laughing nervously.

Darla slipped into a push-up bra, a tiny thong, and a simple sundress that clung to her petite frame perfectly. Fred wore jeans and a collared shirt. They looked damn fine and ready for their special dinner.

The second Fred saw Darla, his eyes widened. “Wow, babe…” He pulled her in and kissed her neck, his hands cupping her ass with both hands, squeezing hard.

She laughed, rubbing the thick bulge straining against his jeans. “Someone’s ready for some fun.”

“I want you so bad, babe,” he shot back, sliding his hand under her dress. His fingers immediately found her soaked panties. “Look who’s talking.”

Darla shivered, her hips grinding into his touch. “Ohh god that feels good—but we can’t—she’s almost—”

Just then, the doorbell blasted through the apartment.

They both froze for a second, then Fred gave her ass one last firm squeeze, and he went to answer the door.

Margie swept in like she owned the place, wearing a low-cut sundress that hugged every curve of her luscious body. She carried a bottle of wine in one hand and that patented sinful smile on her lips.

Darla made the introductions; her voice cracked. “Fred, this is Margie. Margie, my husband, Fred.”

Margie gave him a long, appreciative once-over, as her grin widened. “Well, well. So this is the famous Fred.” She winked at Darla. “You did well, sugar. He’s a looker.”

Fred rubbed the back of his neck, his ears turning bright pink. “Uh… thanks?”

“Oh, don’t be modest,” Margie said, kissing Darla’s cheek before brushing a teasing peck along Fred’s jaw. “You’ve got a handsome man, Darla… good thing you’re learning how to keep him…”

She paused, smirked. “Satisfied.”

Dinner didn’t feel awkward—Margie made sure of that. She kept everything light and easy, focusing on Fred, steering the conversation seamlessly from casual work talk to some small-town gossip and a couple of wild stories from Margie’s past that had Fred laughing hard. Little by little, he started to relax.

The couple of bottles of wine they drank certainly helped ease the tension, and so did Margie’s tits practically spilling out every time she moved.

When they finished dinner, Margie suggested they move to the living room to enjoy the cake and coffee; her tone was casual but intentional.

They settled onto the couch, with Darla tucked in close to Fred. Across from them, Margie crossed her legs with a deliberate slowness, her dress sliding up just enough to tease. Fred tried not to look —but he couldn’t help himself. His eyes followed her every move.

Margie caught it instantly and smirked. “So,” she drawled, “How’d my girl do with lesson one?”

Fred blinked, trying to play dumb. “Lesson one?”

“Oh, Freddie boy,” Margie giggled, dipping her fork into the cake, licking frosting off slowly. “You know, when your beautiful wife took your cock in her mouth.”

Fred dropped his fork. Darla’s face went crimson. “Jesus, Margie…” she whispered.

Margie chuckled, not the least bit ashamed. “What? You told me how much you loved watching him cum all over those pretty tits.”

Fred’s head snapped toward Darla. “Babe… you told her?”

Darla hid her face in her hands. “Not exactly like that…” she mumbled, her voice was muffled against her palms, which were now fully covering her face.

Margie arched a brow. “Don’t be shy about what you want.” Her eyes noticed the bulge forming on the front of Fred’s pants, then she glanced slowly at Darla. “You’re both so horny right now you’re ready to explode.”

Darla’s breath caught. “Margie, we…”

“Stop, fighting it,” Margie interrupted. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

Fred gave Darla a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “She’s not wrong,” he admitted.

Margie grinned. She was downright pleased with herself. “Mmm… that’s what I thought.” She settled back in her seat, her dress rode up even further, showing more of her legs with every movement.

“You two love each other—And that’s so sweet,” Margie said, clicking her tongue, giving them a sly, wicked smile. “But love’s only part of it, sugar. You need lust to make it great.”

Fred swallowed hard; his voice was soft but wanting. “We want to… I don’t know if we’re ready.”

Margie reached over, her hands warm and steady as she rested them on Fred and Darla's knees. “Sugar, you're ready. You both are. You’re just scared of your own hunger.”

Margie leaned back, licking her fork one last time before setting it down. Her eyes lit up with pure lust. “So,” she purred, “The only question is… are you ready for lesson two?”

Darla was hesitant, practically stumbling over her words, nervous about what she was agreeing to. She looked over at Fred, cheeks flushed, and said softly, “I… I think so. We want to. Just… what do we do?”

Margie’s voice dropped into a low, naughty drawl. “Lesson two’s easy, sugar. Be open-minded. No holding back. Let yourselves be a little naughty.”

Margie looked them over from head to toe; the truth was written all over their faces. The teasing, the control—every bit of it had them hooked. They didn’t just want more. They were aching for it.

“Ready,” she whispered, not expecting either of them to object, then she stood up and slid her fingers under the thin straps of her sundress, pushing them off her shoulders in one slow, teasing glide. “You can tell me to stop if you want,” she added with a grin that made it clear she wasn’t stopping for anything.

Fred and Darla stared at her, wide-eyed, glued to every move she made.

Margie slid her dress slowly down her body, catching on her hips before it finally dropped to the floor. They both froze, their breath caught, and their eyes grew even larger.

Margie stood before them in pale lace lingerie that left nothing to the imagination. Her bra cups strained over her big tits, her nipples hard enough to poke straight through the lace. Her arousal was clearly evident by the wet spot on the front of her panties, which was impossible to miss.

Marge grinned—a slow, wicked, confident smile spreading across her face. “Looks like you both like what you see,” she murmured. She stepped closer, her voice dropping into a low, teasing growl. “Let’s start nice and slow.”

Neither Darla nor Fred said a word. They just nodded, still taking in how fast this was happening. Margie felt that same pull in her body—she wanted it just as much as they did.

She looked right at Darla and said, her voice low and easy, “Good. Now your turn, sugar… get those clothes off.”

Darla hesitated for a second, then glanced over at Fred, then back at Margie. Her hands trembled as she slid the straps of her dress off her shoulders. The fabric fell to her waist, and the lamplight caught the simple white cotton bra she wore, which framed her perfect little breasts.

“Come on, sugar,” Margie coaxed—gently, but with a firmness that made it clear it wasn’t a suggestion. “Let's see those titties.”

Darla drew in a slow, deep breath, trying to steady the nerves that hummed under her skin. Then she stood and reached behind her back, unclasping her bra. Her tits spilled free—perky, firm, her nipples already hard like they’d been waiting for someone’s hands. She stepped out of her dress next, letting the fabric slide down and pool at her feet.

Margie gave her a slow, knowing smile—soft, confident, the kind that said keep going. That look alone pushed Darla forward. She hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her cotton panties and eased them down her legs, sliding them off until she stood completely naked.

Margie’s eyes moved over her entire body in a slow, greedy sweep, tracing every line of Darla’s tight, young body. Her gaze dropped between Darla’s thighs, lingering on the trimmed strip framing her pussy perfectly, her folds glistening and slightly parted.

A rough, hungry grin tugged at Margie’s mouth. “Fuck… you look unbelievable, sugar.”

“All right, Fred,” Margie said, her voice low and sure. “Your turn, sugar. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Fred hesitated—until Darla leaned in, her voice soft but steady. “It’s okay, babe. Go on.”

That was all Fred needed—a little encouragement. He pulled his shirt over his head, shoved his jeans down, and stood there in just his boxers. The outline of his cock pressed clearly against the fabric, it was thick, hard and impossible to miss.

Margie’s eyes widened and dropped instantly to the bulge in his underwear, before a slow, wicked grin spread across her face. “Oh wow… would you look at that,” she said. “You didn’t tell me your man was built like that.”

Darla’s smile flickered—nervous, but undeniably proud.

Fred pushed his boxers down, and his cock sprang free—it was thick, long, and throbbing in the warm light.

Margie let out a low, surprised giggle, shaking her head. “Holy shit, sugar… You’re a lucky girl. That’s a beautiful cock.”

She stepped closer, her eyes moving between them, her voice dropping to a low, inviting purr. “God, the two of you are so delicious. Now, Freddie boy…let me show you how to make your wife melt.”

Margie leaned in and, without hesitation, cupped Darla’s tits like she’d been wanting to do it all night. Her hands closed around those warm, perky mounds with a full, greedy squeeze that dragged a sharp gasp out of Darla.

“God, sugar,” she rasped, her thumbs brushing over her nipples. “I fuckin' love these tits. They’re made to be worshipped.”

Darla froze, her face flushed, her breath unsteady. She wasn’t used to being touched by a woman—and the shock only made the heat between her legs even hotter. Her nipples hardened instantly as Margie rolled them between her thumb and fingers. Then she gave them a sharp pinch, and Darla let out a helpless squeal.

Margie’s mouth replaced her hands, closing over Darla’s hardened nipples with a hot, wet hunger. Her tongue moved in slow, deliberate circles—sucking, licking—before she gave each nipple a quick, teasing bite that sent sharp pulses straight through Darla’s entire body.

Fred couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Watching Margie pleasure his wife had him so turned on, he was standing there stroking his cock without even realizing he was doing it.

Margie stopped teasing Darla’s breasts and slowly moved up her body, kissing along her neck, then her cheek, until her face hovered just inches from Darla’s mouth. Close enough to feel Darla’s breath—warm, shaky, and hungry—against her lips.

Darla didn’t hold back. The moment Margie’s mouth touched hers, she kissed her back hard. Their tongues met, and they fell into a wet, messy make-out. It was clear that both women were desperate for more.

When Margie pulled back, they were both still breathing hard from the kiss. Darla let out a moan as she looked at Margie, her body shaking. Whatever doubt she’d had was gone—they were both past the point of stopping now.

Margie smiled at her and said, softly, “Relax, sugar.” Her hand drifted down Darla’s stomach, her nails tracing slow, teasing circles down her body.

Margie paused just above her pussy and looked up, flashing a little grin. Darla felt it — this was the moment they were completely crossing the line. Her body moved before she could even process. Her legs fell open for Margie; she needed her touch; she desperately wanted whatever came next.

Margie didn’t make her wait. She slid her fingers between Darla’s folds, slow and sure. The heat hit her right away. Darla was dripping for her.

“Jesus,” Margie rasped, eyes flicking up at Fred. “Your wife’s so fuckin' wet.”

Darla’s legs opened wider, her breath catching as Margie’s fingers traced the thick, wet folds of her outer labia. Her touch was slow and sure, exploring every slick inch of Darla’s pussy, drawing out a soft, helpless sound from her throat.

Darla cried out, her voice raw, her whole body shaking. “God—yes… right there,” she moaned, desperate and breathless, pushing her hips into Margie’s fingers, needing more of her touch with every trembling pulse of her body.

Margie’s mouth wandered lower, licking and kissing her way down as her fingers explored Darla’s pussy. She took her time, letting the anticipation simmer, dragging warm, open-mouthed kisses across Darla’s stomach. Each slow kiss, each soft lick made Darla twitch a little harder, her body giving itself over to her and begging for more.

Margie settled between her thighs and paused, breathing in the sweet, musky scent coming off her dripping pussy. Darla opened up for her without even thinking. She slid her fingers into Margie’s hair and tugged gently, pulling her down toward her aching, desperate pussy.

Margie looked up at Darla and smiled. “I’ve wanted to eat this pussy for so long.”

She leaned in and blew gently across Darla’s pussy, the cool air making her shiver and gasp. Then Margie’s mouth followed, her tongue dragging slowly from the bottom of her slit to the top, savouring the wetness spilling onto her tongue like warm honey.

Darla cried out, her hips jerking helplessly as a rush of slick heat spilled down onto Margie’s chin. “Oh god—Margie, yes, fuck yes, eat my cunt!” she gasped, her voice shaking.

Margie’s tongue pushed deeper, flicking over her entrance before sliding up and circling her clit with perfect, steady pressure.

She kept her tongue on Darla’s clit while she slid two fingers inside her tight, wet hole. Margie found that soft, perfect spot and worked it over and over. Darla grabbed Margie’s hair harder, grinding shamelessly against her mouth; she was now completely lost in the pleasure.

“Margie, YES lick me fuck yes,” Darla cried out, her voice raw and shaky.

Fred’s cock throbbed, every stroke syncing with the obscene sounds of Margie fucking Darla’s wet cunt with her fingers. He couldn’t look away—his wife was spread open, while Margie’s mouth was devouring her pussy.

Darla was right on the edge; her cries turned into ragged, desperate moans as she arched up, skin flush and glistening, she was unravelling completely under Margie’s hungry mouth. The pressure built fast—too fast. Her pussy clenched hard around Margie’s fingers, her thighs shaking as she sucked in a desperate breath.

“Oh god—Margie, I’m… I’m gonna—fuuuuck,” Darla gasped, her voice cracked.

Margie circled her clit with her tongue, sucking harder, her fingers driving faster into Darla’s soaked pussy, each thrust louder and dirtier than the last.

“Fuckin' cum for me, sugar,” she murmured, her voice low and commanding.

That did it. Darla snapped.

Her hips bucked wildly, cries spilling out of her raw and helpless. “Yes—yes—FUCK YES—YES—I’m cumming!”

Her orgasm hit her hard. Darla’s whole body seized, her pussy clenching around Margie’s fingers in tight, desperate pulses as wave after wave tore through her. A hot gush flooded out of her; it soaked Margie’s mouth and hand while she held her steady and worked her through every fierce, shaking second of it.

Darla was still breathing hard, her breath broke in sharp, uneven bursts as she came down from the high. Little aftershocks twitched through her legs, her eyes wide and glossy. She licked her lips and looked down at Margie between her thighs.

Her voice came out rough and shaky. “Margie… god, that was—oh my god,” she breathed, every nerve still raw and aching for more.

Darla was so sensitive that every soft stroke made her whole body jolt. Margie just grinned and leaned in again, giving her tender, swollen pussy a few slow, teasing licks that sent quick, sharp twitches through Darla’s legs. Only after she’d tasted every last bit did Margie finally pull back.

Her mouth glistened with Darla’s release as she looked up, eyes dark and wicked with satisfaction.

“Sugar… you taste so fuckin' good.”

Margie was so lost in Darla’s pussy—that she barely remembered Fred was even there. When she finally glanced up, he was stunned, his cock throbbing.

Margie rose onto her knees. She wrapped her hand around his thick, hard cock, teasing him with every slow, teasing stroke. His cock jerked in her grip, already leaking pre-cum, and she could tell he was right on the edge, ready to blow if she pushed him any further.

“Mmm… Lesson three—we’re going to put this big cock to work,” Margie said with a sly, naughty grin.