Sitting alone at a table in the hotel restaurant wearing the vivid orange silk halter, braless, was unsettling. I hadn't worn anything so revealing in over ten years. That morning, Sam texted me to dress sexier than usual. “What,” I replied, “my jeans and a sweater not sexy enough for you?”

“You’re sexy enough for me in anything you wear,” he replied. “But tonight is special. I want you to feel as sexy as you really are.”

From the moment I entered the hotel lounge, I was not feeling sexy. I was self-conscious and uncomfortable with the attention I got from the men at the bar. I feared trying to look sexy for Sam was too slutty for the Hampton Lounge. I had long grown used to my breasts attracting attention, but with my bare midriff and them on display with my suddenly stiff nipples, I was way outside my comfort zone and thinking I probably should have kept on the cable-knit sweater I wore out of the house until I was in the hotel room with Sam. Vainly, I had wanted to see his expression when he first saw me dressed as I dared.

Sex with my husband was mundane, safe, and sexually conservative, good enough, I always thought. Then, after years of friendship with Sam Caldwell and his wife, I fell in love with Sam and he with me, upending my life.  I became his secret lover, willing and eager to do anything he asked. His perverse desires were shocking and yet compelling. I could barely think of anything but Sam.

In one month I lost ten pounds, dropping to a size four and even one bra cup size. For the first time, I truly loved how I looked. At thirty-eight years old, I felt sexier than ever. Sluttier too. Before Sam, before that very evening at the Hampton Inn, I had always dressed conservatively. Uncomfortable with men leering, I wore clothing as armor.

It was easy for Sam and me to arrange this first overnight together. Using the excuse of an early flight to a builder's convention, Sam booked a room at the Airport Hampton Inn. He and his wife often did the same for early flights when they traveled together, since their home is almost two hours away.

My excuse was that I would be spending Monday and Tuesday with my sister, an hour further beyond the airport. She expected me on Monday morning, but I drove down Sunday night to meet Sam at the Hampton Inn.

I arrived before Sam. His text said he was still fifteen minutes away, so I went into the lounge and ordered a glass of Chardonnay to settle my nerves. The restaurant bar was half-filled with guys and a few women, watching a football game on a couple of widescreens. Half the tables were occupied, more than I expected for a Sunday night.

When the bartender placed the glass in front of me, he said it was courtesy of the two men at the end of the bar. I looked over at them; they were handsome enough. My involuntary smile at their flattery flashed before I could control it, but I held my card toward the bartender. “Tell them thanks, but my husband will be here shortly.”

He waved off my card. “No worries, already done, their pleasure,” he said, lifting his gaze back to mine on the last word.

Rather than feeling creeped out, I was surprised that I actually felt flattered, and even a bit comforted by the attention from the two men. It did make me feel sexy and tingly. I smiled to myself, sure that was exactly what Sam wanted me to feel. I smiled at them, and when they smiled back, I enjoyed feeling myself grow damp with the confident thought that I could rock their worlds, both of them at the same time. It was a new and different Jane that Sam had created.

When Sam finally did appear, apologizing for taking the time to check in first, I jumped up and gleefully threw my arms around his neck and kissed him generously. I admit I was putting on a happy show for the men at the bar, fully aware I was revealing the skin of my back to them. Sam took my arms to look at me and just said, “Wow.”

I told Sam about the two guys buying my wine, and when he turned to look at them, they simply lifted their glasses in a gracious, good-natured toast.

I was ready to go to the room with Sam, but he ordered an apple pie with vanilla ice cream to share, a couple of coffees, a bourbon for Sam, and another wine for me.

When the waitress left, Sam produced two small wrapped boxes. The smaller of the two looked like a ring box. When I unwrapped it, Sam said, “Sorry, it can’t be a ring.” When I opened it, there was a single blue pill nestled into the cleft.

“What is it? I won’t do drugs with you, Sam.”

“It’s not for you, well, it’s kind of for both of us, but I take it.”

“Is it…?”

“Viagra.”

I reached over and placed my hand on his. “Sam, you certainly don’t need that!”

“I hear it doubles the pleasure. I want this night to be memorable.”

“It’s always memorable with you,” I said, lifting the pill out of its place in the ring box and holding it up between thumb and finger, before holding it out to Sam. “Well then, here’s to twice the pleasure!”

Sam took the pill and swallowed it with a sip of bourbon. Then he slid the other box closer to me. It was bigger, rectangular, the size of a heavy book, wrapped in the same dark paper as the ring box. When, after tearing into it, I lifted the lid, I gasped. The sight of the three highly polished stainless steel butt plugs nestled into custom depressions on red velvet was both frightening and beautiful.

They were only about three or four inches long, but varied in thickness from about a finger width to nearly the diameter of Sam’s cock. That one was bulbous, shaped like an Ace of Spades. It made me shiver.

I felt something brush past my hair. One of the two men from the bar walked by, headed back to his seat from the direction of the men’s room. I worried he saw the open box of plugs. When he reached the bar, he leaned toward his friend, saying something, and they both laughed, so I assumed he had. I didn’t care. Sam didn’t seem to have a concern, and when the guy looked back at him, Sam just grinned.

I realized that Sam was proud to be seen with me. It was our first time in public. All of our time together since the affair began had been in private secrecy. He was showing me of, and I liked it.

“You really like being seen with me?”

“Of course, any man would, you’re gorgeous and sexy.”

“And you really do want to fuck my ass?”

“A new sensation. It’ll be good, and yes, I want all of you.”

“We can try, I guess.  I’ve loved all of the sensations you’ve given me so far, and I do want to give you all of me, but I did let Tom try once, and it hurt so bad from the pressure that I made him stop before it even went in. And you’re so much bigger than him!”

“You do have a tight little rosebud, but Tom just didn’t know how to unlock it. Trust me, we will both have so much fun with your ass.”

For some reason, what Sam said, and the teasing way he said it, sent a shiver of thrill down my spine and a tingle to my pussy. I liked it, and I wanted to tease him back. “I’m just glad you showed up when you did, because if those two men at the bar had time to buy me two more glasses, they might have whisked me off to their room before you arrived!”

“You wouldn’t have gone anywhere without me.”

“I don't know, sitting here like this was getting me pretty worked up...but no, of course not.”

“Hmmm, then again, you did share your spit-roast fantasy with me.”

“Oh, yeah, that one, but…. “

“You really responded to my teasing about it…you remember, how I kept saying how I was gonna share you with my friends while I was fucking you, how two or three of us would ravage your body at the same time. It made you crazy!”

“But I knew you were just teasing.”

“Did you? Really? It sure had an effect. I never saw a woman orgasm so powerfully.”

“You did make me feel particularly slutty.”

“You like it when I make you feel slutty, don’t you?”

“I love being your slut.”

“Come on, slut, let’s go to our room.”

We kissed in the elevator, three floors. No one was there when the doors opened, so I rubbed my hand over his crotch and told him I was going to suck his cock as soon as we got to the room.

When the room door closed behind us, I sank to my knees and sprang his beautiful cock from confinement and into my mouth before it was even fully engorged. I worked him hard, taking him deep. I made my throat vulnerable, no hands wrapped on his shaft for protection, my fingers hooked into the pockets of his trousers, and trusted him not to hurt me too much as he laced his fingers into my wavy hair.

Being our fifth time together, Sam knew how to use me, how I liked it, rough enough to make my eyes water with carefully controlled strokes. As my throat adjusted, I took him deeper, challenging his restraint. I knew he was trying to hold off, but I was doing my best to undo him. It wasn’t long before I could feel him begin to tremble, almost like a buzzing he couldn’t stop.

Then he lost himself, swelling bigger, pushing harder into the constriction of my throat. I wrapped a hand around his base, but in his excitement, he pushed harder, pinching my fingers against my face until I pulled my hand away, allowing him deeper and deeper into my throat. I moved both hands to his hips and held firm, opened wide for him to face-fuck me.

“I’m cumming.” He grunted and erupted in my throat. Huge gobs of pungent paste gagged me before I pulled back. More cum exploded into every nook and cranny of my wet, willing mouth, waking all of my senses as his potent virility subsided.

I rolled back to sit on the floor and smiled up at him like a warrior princess, victorious and proud. I swallowed, still too shy to open my mouth to display my prize.

I held out a hand for Sam to help me up. When I turned toward the bathroom, Sam pulled me back into his arms and kissed me. I’ve grown to love how he kisses me after I blow him. More than sharing, it’s respect. “Where are you off to?” He kissed me again before giving me a chance to answer.

“I’m going to the bathroom to change into something sexy.”

“Everything you wear is sexy.”

“You always say the nicest things.”

“Maybe I’ll go down to the bar and see if those guys are still interested,” he teased.

I turned and looked at Sam with a scowl, catching his teasing grin as he zipped himself back in place.

“That’s not funny!”

“Might never have an opportunity like this to live out that fantasy you have of being spit-roasted ever again.”

“It’s just a fantasy, I’m sorry I told you. I don’t want anyone but you.”

“Until a month ago, this was just a fantasy.”

“Touché,” I said, and closed the bathroom door behind me.

I wasn’t long in the bathroom. I folded my jeans and top and slid my panties in between the layers of the small pile they made. I checked my makeup and stepped back to check myself in the full-length mirror, inspecting my smooth pussy, having gotten my first waxing on Friday to surprise Sam.

Seeing myself hairless down there was still strange to me, but I liked it. I turned this way and that, enjoying my reflection without the usual self-criticism. I touched myself, my index finger splitting the already dewy seam of my lips. My sensations were heightened, and everything felt good. When I brought the crisp taste to my tongue, my confidence grew.

I slipped the satin nightie over my head and looked again. I liked the way my modest nipples showed through. I decided to put my. panties back on, just to have another layer of tease. More than satisfied with how I looked, I opened the door and walked into the bedroom. Sam was gone.

I opened the outer door and looked both ways down the empty hallway. In a bit of a panic, I went to the nightstand to grab my phone and sat in the corner chair. I texted Sam: “Where did you go?”

“I’m trying to talk the bartender into selling me a bottle of wine.

“Why wouldn’t he?”

“Rules and regs, but he’s relenting, large tip magic.”

“I like your large tip." I texted, "Hurry and get it back up here to me.”

When I heard the key card beep, I stood as Sam entered. He smiled and strode over to me and picked me up, cradling me in his arms before he even kissed me. “You look gorgeous!” He did a dizzying pirouette that had me hanging on and laughing before he dropped me onto the bed.

I loved the control Sam took when he grabbed my ankle and pulled me to the side edge of the bed, causing my nightie to ride up. He immediately pulled my panties down the length of my legs, exposing my newly shaved pussy to him. He stood looking at it with an ankle in each hand.

“Gorgeous”, Sam finally said quietly.

“Really? You like it?”

“I love it. So sexy. What does Tom think?”

“He won’t see it. If he does, I’ll just say I wanted to try something new, for him.”

Sam nodded and kissed his way up the inside of my thigh. A trail of five kisses led his lips to my weeping vagina, where he kissed me repeatedly and pulled on my plump pussy lips with his before gliding the tip of his tongue along my slit. Up and down he went again and again, pushing his tongue in deeper each time.

I relaxed with my head on the pillow as Sam ate me with casual, random movements of his tongue, more like a man really enjoying himself than one attempting to get me off. I enjoyed it very much, but knew I would soon need his cock inside me. Instead, he began using his fingers on me. Oh God, how I needed his touch. My body responded immediately. Moments later, he rolled and guided me onto my hands and knees. When he touched me again, his hands were slick with some kind of oil. His fingers worked me as no one had ever before, gliding over my folds, pushing into my vagina. The sensations were like a drug.

“Oh God! What are you doing to me?” I yelled as euphoria overwhelmed me. My legs, then my whole body, began to shake. I felt so in love as my orgasm shuddered through me.  Just as it subsided, he slipped a finger into my ass, slick and easy, giving me more surprise than pain. He moved around and kissed me while slowly pushing and pulling his finger in and out. He pulled back from the kiss and smiled, holding up the thinnest of the butt plugs, not much bigger than his finger, gleaming chrome, glistening with lube.

I smiled and nodded. Sam removed his finger and slid the plug in. No pain, actually just pure pleasure to have the absence of his finger replaced. He again pushed his fingers into my wetness, and then his face. He licked my bare pussy from behind. My sensitivity made me jump a little. I squealed and rolled away onto my back, giggling and laughing.

“I worried while you were gone that you might bring one or even both of those guys from the bar back up with you.”

“Worried?” He lifted his face away to ask that one-word question, and I emitted a sharp laugh at his wet, shiny face. He smiled and slid two fingers into my needy cunt.

“Concerned.”

“They were gone, game over.”

“Game over?”

“The football game was over, and the place was empty except for the bartender. It closes in a few minutes, at ten on Sundays.”

“No wine?”

“It’s coming with room service, I ordered snacks too.”

Sam pushed his fingers back into me as he brought his tongue against my clit. Flicking it, chasing it in circles, flicking it again, all the while twisting what felt like three fingers into and out of me. At first, my body resisted, distracted by some aspects of what he was doing. I wanted his cock in me, I begged him to fuck me already. He was insistent with his mouth, and before long my body gave in.

My hands moved to Sam’s hair, then to my breasts, and then back to his head, pulling him into me, and the waves kept coming, and suddenly, with little warning, I was cumming. I heard myself making strange squeaking sounds before I came back to earth, hornier for cock, more distraught and ravenous than ever before.

There was a knock at the door: “Room Service."

My eyes opened in panic.

Sam stood, snatched my satin nightie off the bed, and tossed it onto my breasts. “You get it, I gotta piss. It’s on the room, just sign.”

I pulled the nightie on over my head and took a step toward the closet for a robe, then decided I was fine. It was a man’s voice, but I felt so sexy in the nighty that I wanted someone to see, and I opened the door a little.

It was the bartender from earlier, holding a tray of wine and glasses, plus two covered dishes.  I opened the door wide. He walked to the back of the room and set the large tray on the table by the window. I signed the check, adding a nice tip.

I heard the bathroom door open and turned to see Sam walk out naked. My eyes went straight to his cock, half-mast, still prominent. I gasped, shocked at his openness. I looked up to see him smiling as he walked towards us at the back of the tiny room.

“I see you’ve met Alex.”

“The bartender, you know him?”

“Only just since trying to get him to sell me a bottle of wine. Room service was the workaround. Also told him it may be worth his while to come up and help me with your fantasy.”

“What fantasy?”

“You know, we talked about it earlier, the one you told me about a couple of weeks ago.”

“My spit roast fantasy? You told, um, you told the bartender about my spit roast fantasy?”  I said in one of those stern attempts at whispering, which wasn’t a whisper at all.

“The name is Alex, and no, he didn’t tell me, but you just did,” the bartender, Alex, said.

Suddenly, I felt foolish and silly and stopped talking. Sam came up behind me and placed his big hands on my upper arms.

“Isn’t she something? Just look at her, she really walked into that one…” he nuzzled into my hair and kissed my neck a few times while pulling my shoulders back, “…but somehow it just makes her even sexier.”

“She does have nice titties,” the bartender said with a grin.

“Not titties, TITS as she once corrected me,” Sam said as he brought his hands up around me and cupped them through the satin material. “These are indeed TITS,” he said, juggled them once, and just as I was ready to grab his arms to remove his hands, he let go. With his fully hard cock nestling between my satin-covered ass cheeks, Sam reached around me and guided the bartender’s hands to my breasts. “Here, feel for yourself.”

I was aghast, trapped between the two men, feeling more sexually objectified than ever before. It was humiliating but also perversely exciting.

“You’re right, mate, these are fine tits indeed!”

Everything about me froze but my heart, fluttering like a parakeet’s. Sam moved his hands back to my shoulders. He lightly kissed my neck and whispered, “I love you. You belong to me. You are mine. You’re mine to share.”

With a sudden gush of excitement, my vagina, that whore of a cunt, betrayed all my concerns about abandoning my self-respect and the jeopardy of losing Sam’s. My knees grew weak at the way the two men were handling me. My nipples rushed to push against the touch of the bartender’s thumbs strumming over the silky barrier covering them.

When I felt Sam’s hands grow heavier on my shoulders, my knees buckled, and I sank down onto them, fully embracing what I was about to do despite the alarms going off in my head. I steadied myself with my hands against the bartender’s chest, sliding down as I went to actively undo his belt. I wanted to be cool, demure, but I found myself impatiently gnawing on the prominent ridge of his cock through the black fabric of his trousers.

When his trousers dropped, and I pulled down his boxers, I was surprised to see no pubic hair, manscaped.  It was a first for me. It struck me as respectful, and that this guy liked receiving blow jobs. My second thought was his strong masculine musk, stronger than Sam’s ever was, but somehow enticing. My next thought was that none of the few guys I had been with before I met Sam, including my husband, had impressive tools. I didn’t know what I was missing until I met Sam. So now that the very next cock I see, while different, was almost as impressive and beautiful, I felt it was unfair to have been so deprived. Sam’s is straight and thick; this new one is thinner, with an upward-sweeping arch to his left and a prominent helmet. I smiled to myself at how objective I had suddenly become about cock. These thoughts flashed through my head as glimpsed, fleeting images.

Without much more than an upward glance at the bartender’s face, I opened and slid my lips over the head. The feeling of the strange cock felt exciting, and I tightened the embrace of my lips. I leaned forward, forcing the spongy head along the roof of my mouth with the pressure of my tongue as I engulfed more of the bone-hard shaft.

When the bartender moaned and uttered an “Oh Christ,” Sam lifted me by my hips back onto my feet in a pike position. I knew what he wanted. I was ever so ready. When he folded the bottom of my nightie onto my back, my pussy gushed again. I widened my stance. The guilt swirling in my head disappeared as Sam’s thick cock slid smoothly into my wet opening, replaced by visuals of my fantasy coming to life. I was overwhelmed by the familiar stretching sensation, but pictured myself being spit-roasted. My mouth opened wide in a moan around the bartender’s plunging shaft. When Sam suddenly pulled back on my hips to ram his cockhead violently against my cervix, the cock in my mouth sprang free.

The spastic haste of the bartender’s urgency to get his cock back in place caused it to slap both sides of my face, making me laugh before finally succeeding.  I was back to being fully spit-roasted. Just the idea of what I was doing almost swept me away until I felt the bartender’s cock throb in my mouth. When Sam’s pace increased. I grew concerned for my new silk nightie. I suddenly stood up, releasing both cocks amid groans of disappointment. “I don’t want cum stains on this.”

I slid it over my head and tossed it toward the upholstered chair in the corner.

The bartender said, “Breathtaking.”

The word made me tingle, pause, and straighten a little prouder.  When I began to drop back down to my knees, Sam scooped me off my feet into his arms. “Sexiest woman I’ve ever known,” Sam said. “We’re doing this on the bed.”

Before Sam could pivot towards the bed, the bartender caught my ankle with his hand and said, “Not until I have a taste,” and, looking at Sam, “May I?”

He sank to his knees and forced his face between my reflexively closing legs. His tongue found me, and my legs instantly relaxed open onto his shoulders. He licked me like a Labrador, weirdly sloppy at first, but quickly pointed his tongue and won me over, pushing into me one moment but going back to flicking my clit many more. With the bartender supporting my bottom half, I began kissing Sam as I lay suspended and lost in his strong arms. It all felt so weird, held like a bride about to be carried over the threshold, naked, kissing my man while another man, a stranger, was going all sloppy on my pussy, but I wasn't gaining orgasm. Only a minute or two passed before I began asking Sam, between kisses, to fuck me. Another minute or so passed before I reached down to wrap my hand around Sam’s cock and started to beg for it.

The bartender heard me, too, and stood. I laughed a little at the sheen now glistening on his face in the soft yellow light, before Sam flung me in a short, flat spin onto the bed mattress. I bounced on my back across the king bed, and Sam was on me. His cock, as straight and hard as a galvanized pipe, filled me in one thrust. Its thickness was so welcome, so full, and so needed. He braced himself over me on straight arms and drove his gorgeous length into me with the growing momentum of a steam locomotive! My knees spread wide and my heels hooked behind his thighs. Sam’s cock felt massive and better than ever.

There was extra force in each of Sam’s thrusts, urging my naked body across the bed. Euphoria washed over me from the way he looked at me. I took my hands from my breasts and stretched my arms over my head to the edge of the bed as I completely and unselfconsciously opened myself to him. I felt beautiful and sexy and free. A few more thrusts had my arms dangling back in midair with my head at the edge of the bed.

I had not forgotten about the bartender, so I was not surprised when he stepped between my outstretched arms to enter my view from overhead. My hands went to the backs of his thighs. He cupped the sides of my heaving breasts and squeezed each hard enough to hurt, before pressing them together. He leaned in, and his cock loomed over me like a derrick and settled between my breasts directly below Sam’s face. Sam stopped thrusting with his cock buried deep, filling me.

The bartender’s balls and ass were right in front of me. Instinctively, I pulled his cheeks apart for a better look. Hairless, tightly puckered, and dark, his ass pucker looked tight and enticing, and before I meant to, I was making circles around it and over it with my tongue. Another first for me and not repulsive in the least! The bartender stroked his cock between my tits a few times before he pulled back to offer the head of his cock to my lips.

I looked around the bartender’s shaft at Sam, and he gave me a good thrust and a smile. I kept my eyes locked on his and opened my mouth. Then I tipped my chin up, let my head drop back, pulled on the backs of his thighs, and took the bartender’s cock deep into my open mouth. Then Sam gave me another powerful thrust and the stranger pushed his cock all the way to my throat. It hurt, but I didn’t gag. He paused for a moment, then pushed his cock deeper. With his cock, so very alive and throbbing in my throat and his balls on my nose and eyes, I was barely aware of Sam’s cock paused halfway in my pussy.

My brain flashed the term “spit-roast”, the term Sam gave my fantasy when I first described it to him. It suddenly seemed ludicrously appropriate. I wondered if I would be able to roll onto my stomach as if really on a spit, but there was no chance I was about to move; I was living out the fantasy. I remained still as the bartender began to fully fuck my face. My mouth and throat commanded all of my attention.

Sam evenly and smoothly pushing and pulling in and out of me felt almost distant and detached as the bartender’s hairless tool took control of my mouth and brain.

It should have been awful. I gagged hard a couple of times, and my eyes were stinging with tears. It could have been awful, but it wasn’t. I was wonderfully overwhelmed by the sensations of Sam stretching my pussy, the butt plug in my ass, the strange cock in my mouth, and the hands of both men on my tits and everywhere. It was all good, so very good.

“Jesus! Your wife is some kind of woman.”

“She never ceases to amaze me,” Sam said without correction. It made me feel good.

“She may be the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen.”

“Best sex I’ve ever had.”

“I never even saw a pornstar love it like this.”

It did not matter that sometimes their strokes were in sync and sometimes not, because when the two men started talking about me, I was touching heaven.

“It’s hard not to love someone so beautiful.”

“How long have you two been married?”

“Twenty years for me, about eight for her.”

The bartender stopped thrusting, with me just sucking on his cock head. “To different people?”

“Yup.”

“Better yet! What a slut. Simply gorgeous. Look at those big tits move like they’re floating. Look at those beautiful legs. Look at her take our cocks!”

The effect of being taken by two men, being controlled, used, and talked about that way caused me to surrender even more completely. They seemed to sense deepening submission and used me more roughly, as if in competition to own me. It was like a drug. For as much as I clung to control, it was slipping away. It felt good, deliriously good.

I was completely at their mercy. Hands were all over me, squeezing my breasts, circling my clit, rolling and pinching my nipples, gripping my neck. Impossible to keep track, it was dizzying, my focus fractured. One second the stretch of my pussy around Sam’s cock was my foreground, the next second it was the bartender’s cock in my throat commanding my attention.

The bartender pulled out, and a flood of my own saliva followed, covering my face, occluding my vision, clogging my nostrils. I gasped for air. The bartender gave me only a moment before he slid his cock back into my throat, smooth as silk. Sam, like a metronome, never missed a beat.

The orgasm fluttered first in my abdomen. I could tell it was going to be big by the way the sensation spread to my chest. It felt like my breasts swelled before my brain went euphoric. Suddenly, it was all cunt clenching and spasms. My legs straightened and began to quiver and shake uncontrollably. My toes curled, then pointed, and curled again. I felt tossed and twisted into an avalanche of exquisite agony. The intensity was so much that I wanted it to stop, but I was literally on a spit of straight, rigid cock, one in each end of me.

With both hands, I pushed against the bartender’s thighs. He didn’t budge. I moaned and pushed harder, but he pushed back and ejaculated ferociously, deep. I tried to swallow, but choked and gagged. I pushed with all my strength, and he was out. I coughed, sending another cascade of phlegm and sperm onto my face.  I continued to orgasm and quiver around Sam’s cock, momentarily still as the bartender finished on my face, adding to the mess I made of myself.

Out of the fog of orgasm, I became aware Sam was moving again, fucking me hard in full, bold strokes, desperate to finally fill me with his cum. I spread wider and put my hands on his ass and urged him into me. “Yes! Fuck me hard! Cum inside me! I want it!”

I orgasmed again as Sam came. When my clenching vagina pushed him out, I rolled fetally onto my side, then stomach, whimpering from the tired grip of my extended orgasm. I gradually grew aware that my face was in a mess of saliva and semen on the sheet. I shifted slightly to a dry spot closer to Sam. He put his arm around me.

“You okay, Jane?”

“Ahummm.”

“Everything you fantasized?”

“So much more, You?”

"Sexiest thing ever."

Sam moved his hand down my back and pushed on the butt plug, which, amazingly, I had forgotten. He began gently toying with it in and out. It felt good.

“Where’s the bartender?”

“He left without a word.”

“Nice hairless cock,” I teased.

“Only the best for my love,” Sam said. Then he slowly pulled the butt plug free. It felt so weird to be gone, but it wasn’t for long. He immediately began working the mid-sized one into my ass. There was only slight discomfort before the fattest part popped in. Then, it felt so very good.

Suddenly, Sam slapped me on the ass, hard.

“Hey!”

“Go clean yourself up, slut.”

That hurt more than the slap. Then I realized he was playing, changing the game.

“What? You whore me out but don’t want to kiss me?” I taunted as I sat up.

He grabbed me roughly by the arm and pulled me in for a hard, passionate kiss.

“I love that you’re my whore. I love you more than you know.”

I started to cry even before I saw myself in the bathroom mirror. My emotions were a torrent, happy, yet sinking in mere seconds from the mountaintop elation of being the adored object of sexual pleasure of two men. I looked completely wrecked, hair, makeup, caked semen. I couldn’t believe Sam had kissed me.

The shower felt good. I pushed and pulled on the butt plug, thinking I might take it out, but it felt good. I was beginning to think it might actually feel good to take Sam back there.

I dried my hair. I was about to apply lipstick but put it down. I just wrapped myself in a towel and walked out to find Sam still awake. He was sitting propped up on the pillows. The covers were tented.

“Wow,” I said, “That pill is really something.”

“I guess, but our night is still young, and just lying here thinking how the sexiest woman I have ever known was bringing her virgin ass back to bed surely would have had that effect all on its own.”