I had business in London anyhow, a very rare occurrence for me, so I decided to mix business with pleasure, and arrange to meet up with a pen-pal. I knew him only as Tom, though I suspected that wasn’t his real name.
He had authored a series of articles on LushStories, mostly involving cuck fantasies. In fact, his name on LushStories was CuckFantasies. For reasons that I can’t fully explain, cuck fantasies (fantasies about being cuckolded, not about Tom) turn me on, and I quite enjoyed his stories. I reached out to him once to comment on his stories, and we began to correspond.
I let him know that I was traveling from the southwest portion of the United States, and would be in the UK for a week or so. I would mostly be busy, but if he wanted to get together for a pint (how very British of me!), I would enjoy meeting him. After a few back and forths, he said that if I could come in to London a day earlier than planned, I would be welcome to stay with him and his wife for the night, then start my business day fresh, instead of straight of the plane.
Stay with him and his wife. Huh. Tom’s fantasies aren’t told in the third person; they are about him and his wife. They are just fantasies. He tells me that she is the only woman he has ever slept with. And while they enjoy an active sex life together, it is – as he says – quite conventional. His fantasies are about his wife having sex with someone else.
For those of us who have cuck fantasies, we think about the fact that some fantasies are best left as just fantasies, and the fact that other fantasies are something we’d like to experience. Most of us with cuck fantasies don’t really want out wives or lovers to have sex with someone else (or maybe we do?). But Tom falls in the other camp; he really does want to know that his wife is with another man.
Making the plane connections I wanted proved to be difficult, so I came in late the evening before Tom had invited me, and grabbed a hotel at the airport. I was, therefore, refreshed and anxious to see a bit of London the next day.
Tom picked me up mid-morning (after a ‘full English breakfast’), and gave me a driving tour of some of the sights. Of course we talked about sex, and his fantasies. I asked if things had changed, and he said that they had not; it was still a fantasy.
Tom had a kink. Well, I know that wanting your wife to have sex with another man is a kink, but he had another kink as well. When I say ‘kink’, please understand that I’m not judging. God knows that I have several kinks of my own (one of which makes an appearance later). This is just a kink that I haven’t personally embraced
He likes to wear women’s underwear.
During our correspondence, Tom told me that his wife was aware of the kink, and didn’t have a problem with it. She had, in fact, bought him some racy lingerie to wear. I think that when he wore it to bed it was a signal that he was randy, but I may be reading too much into what he told me.
I asked what he was wearing under his chinos, and he smiled as he told me it was some of ‘the good stuff.’
He had arranged with his wife, Heather, to meet us for a late lunch, to be followed by walking tour, and a visit to St. Paul’s. She was a delightful woman. Not devastatingly beautiful, but attractive by any reasonable man’s standard. She was tall and thin, small breasts, and a red hair that made me think she might have a Scottish background. She was smart, funny, and engaging. Well, not right at first … at first she was a bit distant, which I took as just being British.
By late afternoon, I had had enough walking, and suggested we stop at a pub for the pint I had promised Tom. It was early for the drinking crowd, so we had no trouble finding a quiet table in the back. We ordered drinks, and Tom excused himself to the gents.
The moment that Tom was gone, Heather turned to me, a serious look on her face. “Look, I’m going to tell you something that you cannot, absolutely cannot, share with Tom. I need your word on it.”
I cautiously nodded my assent.
She went on. “I wasn’t snooping, I swear I wasn’t. My computer had crashed, so I used Tom’s to send some files to a client. His computer was open to ….” She paused, sipped at her drink, and went on. “His computer was open to LushStories. I spent an hour reading stories before I saw that it had emails, which I’m ashamed to admit that I read. Including the emails between you and Tom.”
I stopped breathing. My heart stopped beating. I was frozen.
“Frankly, I had gotten quite turned on by some of the stories, but as you can surely understand, I was shocked by the emails. I decided to simply pretend that I never saw them. Then a couple of months later, Tom told me his friend from southern New Mexico was coming to visit.”
“In the months in between, I had gone from being horrified by Tom’s fantasies, to actually getting … aroused by the idea. When he told me you were coming, I went back to being horrified … and gradually came around to being at least curious. I wanted to meet you, see what you were like. And I’m enjoying you. And I’m willing to … willing to play this out. So …” This time she took a gulp of her drink. “So, if you can figure a way to make it seem like you are seducing me, I will very happily play along.”
Just as the timing in movies is always great, so too was it great for us. Tom was striding towards the table.
It took me a minute to realize that Tom was talking to me, as I was busy processing what Heather had told me. I brought myself back to planet Earth, and chatted for a few minutes when I said it was my time to visit the loo. As I stepped to the urinal, I realized that I had an erection; it took a few minutes for things to subside to the point that I could relieve myself. I used the time for deep breaths, deliberately not thinking about Heather.
Back at the table, I ordered a whiskey. At home, I would have said “on the rocks”, but I wanted to blend in, so … no ice for me. Besides, I didn’t really want to enjoy a great whiskey, I just wanted a little alcohol in my veins.
At that point, I had a goal, but I didn’t have a plan on how to get there. Yet, I found myself talking more to Heather than to Tom, and when I talked with Tom, it was mostly about how lucky he was to be with such a wonderful woman. Yikes! I was flirting with her!
At some point the conversation turned a touch bawdy (a word I would never use in the States, but which seems to fit in here), and both Tom and Heather joined it. After it was clear that talking about things that were at least adult, and perhaps overtly sexual, was okay, I suggested that we find a wine shop and let me buy a couple of bottles of nice wine, then they could show me their house. We retraced our steps to Tom’s car, and headed out.
There was no parking at the wine shop, so Tom said that he’d drive around for a bit, and that Heather and I could go shopping, and he’d meet us out front in fifteen minutes or so.
We whispered to one another in the wine shop, much like two teenagers. I asked if she really wanted to …. I couldn’t bring myself to say “really wanted to have sex with me” or anything so direct. So I asked, “do you really want … to do this.” She responded by saying that she really wanted to kiss me, right then and there, but it seemed that she should kiss me only when Tom knew she was doing it. And that she wanted to see how things went from there. “But,” she added, “going ‘all the way’ certainly seems high on the list of things to do.”
I pondered a course of action. As we cruised the Cabernet Sauvignon section of the wine shop, I told her that we would “play a game” once we got to their place, and that it would help if she not only went along, but that she focused the game on the two of us, excluding Tom. She asked what I meant, and I had to admit that I wasn’t sure, but I was working on an idea. And I abruptly changed topics. “Underwear.” She looked me oddly. “This is a question I never thought I’d ask a woman, but you do have panties that match what you husband is wearing today?”
She blushed deep red. I’m not sure if the blush was because her husband was wearing lingerie, or because she did, in fact, having matching panties, but admitted that she did. I told her that she should change into them after we got to their house. And asked that she take off her bra. She smiled. “I’m not wearing one.” All the better.
I paid for a couple of nice bottles a Cab Sav and a Merlot, and we stepped outside. As we saw Tom pull away from the curb where he had found a parking space and headed towards us, I said, “on the topic of kissing, I hope you like kissing. A lot.”
She smiled, and reached for the door handle of their car.
We parked on the street in residential neighborhood. I got out quickly, opening the front door for Heather, both because I’m a gentleman and because I wanted to whisper something to her. “This will make sense later. In Phase III of the game I’m planning, ask me about the most cringeworthy sex I’ve ever had.”
Her expression didn’t change and she simply responded in a normal voice. “How gallant! Thank you.”
Tom opened the boot, and helped me with my bags; one large suitcase and a carry-one.
Tom and Heather gave me a brief tour of their lovely home, then Heather excused herself to freshen up. Tom and I rummaged through the refrigerator and pantry to come up with snacks to enjoy with our wine. As we worked, I began to explore with Tom whether he really, really wanted to make his cuck fantasies come true.
“Tom, Heather is a delight. And sexy as fuck!” I said.
Tom agreed, sorting chips on to a plate. I decided to be more direct. “If Heather were so inclined, would you really – I mean would you actually want her to be with another man? Because, if so, I’m volunteering.”
Tom smiled, a combination between a lustful look and wistful look. “It isn’t gonna happen; she just won’t go down that road.”
“Work with me Tom. Don’t be such a negative Nelly. If she won’t, she won’t. But what if, what if by some surprise to you, she would. Don’t fight the question, assume she would. Would you want her to?”
Tom, who had been bent over to be in the fridge, stood up, and looked at me, his head cocked at an angle. “She won’t. But as you know better than anyone – well, you are the only one who knows – it’s my fantasy. And yes, it’s a fantasy that I’d love to actually live.”
I smiled. “Well, with your permission, I’m gonna take a shot at it. If at any point, it becomes too real, and you change your mind, start talking about strawberries. That’s our safe word.”
Tom said he didn’t think he’d have the need to talk about strawberries, and that even if the need arose, he wouldn’t.
“Help me a bit. Our conversation at the bar was a bit … sexual. Open the conversation up, and when I suggest an adult game, tell us that your game for it. And later, if I want to ‘act out’ a scene, suggest that I act it out with Heather, and not with you.”
Any chance that Tom had to question what I meant was brushed aside as we heard Heather coming down the stairs, and whisking into the den adjoining the kitchen. Tom and I, his hands filled with a platter of munchies, and mine with a bottle of wine and three glasses, joined her.
She had changed clothes; wearing a knee-length skirt and a simple white blouse. “Wow! You look great!” I exclaimed, as the change from the clothes she had worn for a brisk fall day in London had hidden her charms. “If you don’t mind me saying so, you look – as I mentioned to your husband – sexy as fuck!” Heather gave a sexy wiggle and said that she didn’t mind at all.
The den had a love seat and a recliner, separated by a small table. Tom and I set the food, wine, and wine glasses on the table. Heather had perched on the love seat, and as much as I would have loved to have joined her there, I thought that might be a bit much, so I sat on the edge of the recliner as Tom joined Heather.
I popped the top on the bottle, and filled glasses; Heather proposed a toast to new friends and experiences. I echoed “to new friends and experiences.”
I decided to pick up the conversation where we left off. “Heather, just before we left the bar you were telling us about the guy at work who liked to look down your blouse. How’d that end?”
“It rather ended for him, poor chap. I don’t mind been looked at. In fact, I rather enjoy it at time, if truth be told. But, as you can see,” she said indicating her breasts, “there really isn’t a lot to look at.”
“Balderdash,” I responded, “I’m partial to breasts of all sizes. Whether they spill out of large bras, or barely fill a martini glasses, I enjoy them all. Yours – I suspect – are perfect. Besides, being small breasted means that you haven’t had to fight the effects of gravity.”
Tom echoed the sentiments, saying that Heather really did have exquisite breasts. Heather said that she was surprised that I would talk of such things, as she heard that American’s were really quite sexually repressed. “What?!? I thought that was true about Brits! I mean, we hear that Europeans are a bit less repressed about sex than Americans, but I thought that Brits were uptight that way?”
Tom and Heather both explained that they typically didn’t talk as much about sex as Europeans, they certainly enjoyed it thoroughly. Tom clearly wanted to explore this line.
“Since we’ve been married practically forever, I don’t have any skills in such things. How does a single chap go about finding … finding someone to ….” Tom hesitated, then continued. “Someone to bed?”
I laughed. “That’s hardly my area of expertise. I’m married myself. And, since I’m thousands of miles from home, I’ll confess that I’m not only married, but I have a lover.” Neither Tom nor Heather looked shocked. Heather commented that I was a lucky man. “But,” I continued, “I have watched as other men have tried, some successfully, some not. I saw one guy with a gambit that I’d try if the occasion arose.”
Both Heather and Tom scooted forward and looked interested. “Tell us!” commanded Tom.
“This guy would get an adult conversation going, much like we are having, and then suggest a ‘get to know you’ game. He explained that it had three rounds. I only saw round one, but I’ve imagined what the other two rounds might be like and have imagined my own version of them.”
“Tell us more!” Tom insisted. Heather joined in, right on cue. “Tell us? Hell, let’s play!”
I looked to Tom. “Absolutely! Let’s play!” he said enthusiastically.
I refilled glasses as I talked. “Ok, as I said, three rounds. In each round, each person has three turns, going around the room. In the first round, you get to ask a question. When it’s just two people, it’s obvious, but since it is three of us, let’s say that you have to direct the question to just one of the other two. The goal is to build towards something. I mean, if you’re really out there, your first question might be ‘do you want to get laid’, but that likely won’t work to well, so all questions have to be PG-13. The kicker is this; you can lie when you’re asked a question. You have to tell the truth. And you can’t just say ‘yes’ or ‘no’ – you have to explain all the context.”
Tom told me to tell them about round two.
“Again, each person gets three turns. You get to tell the other person – well, in our case – another person to do something, direct someone, or tell you do something. Again, PG-13. Maybe PG-17, but nothing R rated.”
This time, Heather prompted me to tell them about round three.
“Again, three turns. This time you can ask questions, or direct action, but it can be R rated. If you ask questions, you can insist that the person “act” out their answer.”
We all considered our drinks, and then I asked, “Wanna play?”
They were both in. We decided to take a bathroom break before we started, and between each round.
Round One
We decided to draw cards to see who asked the first question, and then to have the person to our left ask the next question, until we had each asked a question, then let the last person to ask a question ask the next question, and the rotate to right, etc.
Heather drew a Jack of Clubs, Tom the Eight of Hearts, and I drew the Queen of Hearts. I posed my question to Heather. “What’s the best date you’ve been on?” Heather told us about her second date with Tom, which was when she decided that he was the one for her.
Tom, on her left, asked the next question; which he directed to me. “How did you come to find a lover?” I explained that I was traveling a lot to a town a few hours away, and decided to look at the very personal columns. I stumbled across an ad that read “Blonde, 5’ 10” 155 lbs looking for a summer fling. Married man preferred.” I wrote to the email that was provided, was delighted when I got a response, and over the moon when we arranged a date for my next trip. Dinner and drinks turned into a long, delicious kiss, and then we went to my room. That was 25 years ago, and we are still seeing other when we can.
Heather’s turn. “What was your first kiss like?” I squirmed a bit, then explained that I had been in a high school play. After rehearsal one evening, I gave a few of my fellow cast members a ride home. There was lots of talking about kissing, and who was good and who wasn’t. I dropped them off one at a time. Susie was last. She pointed out that I was uncharacteristically quiet on the ride, and asked what’s up. I decided to ‘fess up and tell her I had never kissed a girl. I mean, I had pecked a girl on the lips, but never more than that. As we pulled up to her house, she asked if I wanted to change that. For the next fifteen minutes or so she educated me in the sport of kissing.”
The questions went around the room twice more, similar in tone, each one perhaps a little more personal than the last. After each had asked their three questions, we took a bathroom break, and cracked open the second bottle of wine.
Somewhere in the break, Heather quietly asked me when she should ask about the most cringeworthy sex. I told her during Round Three. Maybe early in the round.
Round Two
Since Heather asked the last question, she got to go first. She asked me if I wanted to kiss her. I of course said I did, but wasn’t sure if that was just curiosity or an invitation. She looked to Tom and asked him if it was okay if she made it an invitation. He nodded his assent, and I went to the love seat, straddled her, and kissed her. It was certainly more than just a brief peck, but less than a 15 minutes make out session. It left me wanting more.
Tom was up next. He asked me if I wanted to kiss her again. And, of course, I did. He assured me it was not just curiosity. I looked to Heather. She simply said, “Yes, please.” Who was I to deny her?
When it was my turn, I explained that given the turn of events I was tempted to ask Heather if she wanted me to kiss her again, but decided that would detract from the game. I turned to Tom. “Tom, I don’t want to embarrass you, so wait until you hear the whole question. My experience is that we all have kinks. Tell me about a kink that you have that Heather already knows about.”
Even though I knew the kink, and even though he knew I knew, he still blushed. “Oh, shit. Umm …” He stalled. Heather put her hand on his thigh, riding a bit higher than necessary for mere reassurance. “It’s okay, babe. Tell him.”
“Ok, ok. I like to wear women’s underwear.” I raised my eyebrows as though I were surprised, but without any judgment. “I know I only get one question, but …” I looked to Heather. “How are you with this?”
She smiled, looking into her glass of wine as she thought. “I was surprised at first, but never … never bothered by it. And then I got into it. I bought him some rather nice things to wear. In fact ….” This time she blushed. “In fact, I helped him pick out what to wear today before he left for the airport to pick you up. And when we got home from our afternoon outing, I put on a matching set.” Tom perked up as he looked at her in amazement.
It was Heather’s turn. She told Tom to show us his underwear. Tom was truly shocked. At first he thought she was joking, but she insisted, and he unbuttoned his chinos and pulled them down enough to see racy black lace underwear, then hurriedly pulled his chinos back up. “No,” Heather said firmly, “lose the slacks.” A pause. “All the way off!!” Tom first took off his shoes and socks, and then took his chinos off.
He was very obviously turned on, the lingerie strained by his erection, with the tip of his penis poking about the waistband. I commented, “Well, we may be past PG 17, but I’m definitely not complaining.”
There’s something you may already know, but if you don’t, you need to know it. Most of us with cuck fantasies have a strong bi-curiosity. We aren’t necessarily attracted to other men, but we are attracted to their cocks. Go figure. I had been turned on by the interaction amongst us, but seeing his cock definitely had an effect on me.
My turn. “Heather, how many buttons on your blouse?”
She counted. “Nine.”
I noted that the number was divisible by three, and told her to undo the top three. She looked to Tom, who didn’t say a word about strawberries, and then unbuttoned them.
Tom’s turn. He liked to follow my lead, and told her to unbutton the next three, which she did.
“Heather, your turn.”
Heather didn’t say anything, but simply unbuttoned the remaining three buttons. Her blouse gaped open, exposing the sides of her breasts, but not the nipples.
It was my turn. I knew what I wanted to do, but thought we should get some clarity from the group. I suggested that we forego the rest of the round, take a break, then being Round Three. Tom assented. Heather said that would be great, but only if she got to go first. Of course; ladies should always go first.
Heather excused herself, and Tom and I looked at each other. He was looking like he was a hungry cat, and had just seen a bird. I asked, “are you sure?” He unconsciously dropped his hand to his lap, and began to run his thumb over the tip of his cock, spreading the pre-cum that was liberally leaking. “Oh, yes, I’m sure.”
When Heather came back, she suggested that we move upstairs for Round Three.
Round Three
“Upstairs,” of course, was their bedroom. Seating was limited to the bed and to a single side chair. Heather sat on the edge of the bed, near the pillows. Tom sat at the far edge of the bed, almost as though he wanted there to be distance between them. I turned the chair around and sat/leaned against the back of the chair.
She looked at me and told me that she wanted me to describe the most cringe-worthy sex I had ever had. And she reminded me that this was the round where you could insist that someone act out their answer. I told them bluntly that my most cringe-worthy sex was when I had been seduced by a man when I was in college. I asked if I should act it out with Tom, but Tom quickly said that I should act it out with Heather instead.
“Ok, Heather, you’ll play me, and I’ll play the other man. Four of us had gone to Santa Fe, two men, two women, but we weren’t couples, just friends. The other guy had a friend who had a small house there; the owner was on vacation somewhere, and had said we could stay there. We went out for dinner and drinks, then came back. We had agreed that the girls would be in one room and the boys in another. I didn’t wear pj’s back then, I just slept in briefs. The other guy and I stripped down to our jockey shorts and got in bed.”
I looked at Heather and said, “So, you’ll have to strip down.” Tom said, “So will you.” I stripped down to just my jockeys, whilst Heather unfastened and dropped her skirt. She and Tom were, in fact, wearing identical lingerie. I spent a moment taking her in, then explained that he hadn’t been wearing a shirt, so she should lose hers. She turned to Tom and told him to help her, then let him get behind her, sliding her blouse off like a valet might help someone take their coat off.
My breath caught. I wasn’t joking about liking breasts. I had seen the sides of her breasts downstairs, but fully exposed she was sexier than I could have imagined. Martini glass sized indeed, but pert with pronounced and very erect nipples. And she was looking at me … well, at my shorts, noting my obvious erection and the wet spot from my pre-cum. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Tom was touching himself again.
“We got in bed, me from that side,” I said, indicating, “and him from that side.” Heather walked around the bed, and we both got in bed, each on the side with as much distance as possible. “Of course, we got under the sheets, but if this is show and tell, I guess we can skip that part if you want.”
She agreed that we didn’t need a sheet. “I laid on my side, facing away from him.” She turned away from me. “Of course I was thinking we were going to sleep, but then he moved closer to me.” I slid towards her, covering half the distance.
“When he did that, I was shocked. Petrified. It was a ‘what the fuck’ moment. But a couple of minutes passed, and I decided that I had misread the situation. And just when my heartbeat returned to normal, he moved closer.”
I moved to her again, this time close enough that my knees were touching the back of her legs. “Again, my heart raced. This was a time when two guys together was not acceptable. And I was raised in a pretty puritanical household. This was bad! But through my fear, I realized that I was also turned on. I was shocked and embarrassed to find that my cock was hard. I didn’t move. So he moved closer.”
When I moved this time, I was spooning her. “It was just body-to-body contact for a short bit, while I sorted out that I did NOT want this to happen, and why was my cock so hard, and …” I stopped, then put my hand on her hip.
“Then he put his hand on my hip. His hand was just inches from my cock. Not allowed! Absolutely not allowed. But I was even more turned on. Then he caressed my thigh,” my hand moved as I talked, “slowly, up and down, then when his hand was low on my thigh, he reached around touching my inner thigh, then began his upward stroke.”
Heather tensed as my hand inched up her inner thigh. But her quick breath and fast heartbeat told me the tension wasn’t from fear, but from the same lust I had felt those 40+ years earlier. “Then his hand left my skin, and touched the fabric of my jockeys.” I felt the edge of her panties and paused. “Then he continued upward, and his fingers played over my swollen cock.” My fingers touched the wetness and heat of her panties.
“He stroked me like that several times, and I felt that I was pressing against his fingers, wanting the pressure.” And Heather flared into my fingers. “Then he brought his fingers up above my jockeys, and he slipped his fingers into them.” I slipped my fingers under the waistband of her panties.
“He was to the side of my cock, deliberately, I imagine, but slipped in deeper, and touched me.” I slid my hand all the way into her panties, caressing her pussy gently. “A man! Touching my cock!! My mortification continued, but so did my lust. I not only didn’t protest or pull away, but I turned a bit, so that he could have better … better access.” Heather rolled a bit onto her back, towards me, and spread her legs ever so slightly.
“He continued, stroking me with his fingers, then wrapping his hand around my cock and stroking me.” As I said this, I slipped a finger inside her slightly, enjoying how very wet she was. “I don’t remember how he did it, but he slipped my jockeys off … I suspect I helped.” Together, Heather and I eased her panties off. “I don’t know when, but he had taken his off, too. He rolled me on my back, without any resistance from me, and knelt between my legs.” I demonstrated, but Tom quietly noted that to be realistic, I should have taken my briefs off, and Heather murmured her agreement. I took this as consent, and quickly stripped my jockeys off, then again placed myself between her legs.
“He lowered himself down, but was holding his weight on his hands, our bodies inches from one another, his cock on mine.” Much as my cock was now on Heather’s mound. “He slid down my body a bit; I could feel his cock against my balls, then he slid a bit more. I could feel his cock now under my balls.” Heather could now feel my cock at her entrance. “He pushed up, just a very little bit.” I put pressure on her opening. “For a second I thought he was going to try to penetrate me, and I was absolutely horrified … and a little bit hopeful he would.”
“But instead, he continued downward, slowly downward. When he got to where his face was above my chest, he began to use his mouth on me, kissing, licking and sucking, paying attention to my nipples, then lower still.” I spent the next several minutes on that same trail with Heather, my mouth on her, enjoying those absolutely wonderful breasts, and finding that she reacted to my ministrations with great pleasure. “Then lower, licking and kissing my stomach. Then the inevitable: his lips came to my cock. I was dripping, dripping, dripping with pre-cum, and he first licked the head of my cock.”
I delicately kissed Heather’s inner thighs, then slowly drew my tongue over them, close – ever so close – to touching her labia, but leaving her waiting for a moment. “Then he took me in his mouth.” My tongue was on her labia now, touching, probing. I pulled away long enough to say, “and he began long strokes, which he continued until ….”
Then I slid my hands under Heather’s ass and pulled her into my mouth and devoured her. My lips and tongue fully engaged, sucking, licking, changing tempo occasionally, until finally she bucked into my face, crying out as she came.
I stayed like that, buried in her for a moment, then separated myself, and said “… and then I came in his mouth. Like you did.”
We were all quiet for a minute as Heather’s breathing slowly returned to normal. I had slipped off her, lying naked on my back beside her, still catching my breath. Her thighs were parted, glistening, her panties abandoned in a damp heap near her legs.
“Wait,” Heather murmured, turning her head on the pillow toward me. “You aren’t finished with the story. What happened next?”
I chuckled, still flushed. “Well, there was a social contract, wasn’t there? He went down on me … so I returned the favor.”
Heather’s eyes flicked down to my cock, then up to me, then over to Tom, who was standing beside the bed. He looked stricken and transfixed, his chest heaving, his cock tenting the lace he wore.
“If you don’t mind,” Heather said slyly, “I think we should finish acting out the story he’s started.”
Tom swallowed hard. His eyes darted between us, hungry and fearful all at once. “Oh … yes. Please.”
Heather reached down beside her thigh, lifted the sodden panties between two fingers, and tossed them at him. “Then you’d better hold onto these.”
He caught them awkwardly, staring down at the wet gusset in his hands. A groan escaped his throat as he pressed them to his face, breathing deep. He kissed the fabric, sucking it against his lips, then dragged it down to rub across the straining outline of his cock. He looked wrecked already, standing there stroking himself with the panties while his wife turned back to me.
Heather curled onto her side, reached for me, and wrapped her hand around my cock. “Right,” she said, grinning wickedly, “where were we?” And then she leaned down, parted her lips, and slid me into her mouth.
The wet heat of her tongue made me groan, my hips lifting instinctively as she sucked me in deeper. She bobbed her head slowly, taking her time, swirling her tongue around the tip. I looked down at her, naked and gorgeous, her breasts pressed against my stomach, while just beyond her shoulder Tom loomed at the bedside—panties clutched to his face, his cock throbbing beneath lace, his eyes locked on the sight of his wife swallowing me.
Heather moaned around me deliberately, the vibration running through my shaft. She glanced sideways at Tom, holding his gaze as she sank me deep, nose brushing my stomach. The sound he made was halfway between a sob and a groan. He ground his hips into the panties like he couldn’t help himself.
It didn’t take long—her mouth was too much. With a groan I spilled inside her. Heather swallowed some, but let more leak from her lips and drip down her chin, strings of white glistening on her skin. She pulled back slowly, stroking me to coax the last drops, then licked her lips with a wicked little smile.
Tom’s knuckles were white where he gripped the panties. His whole body trembled.
Heather reached out for him, tugged him down toward her. For the briefest moment, he feigned hesitation—just enough to convince himself he’d been pulled—but his eyes betrayed his eagerness. When her mouth met his, he opened willingly, hungrily, kissing her back as she snowballed my cum into him. Their kiss was deep and wet, tongues tangled, cum spilling between them before he swallowed it down greedily.
When she finally pulled back, she was still glistening. “I can’t believe I just did that,” she whispered breathlessly. “I can’t believe you watched me do that. And I can’t believe you just kissed me with another man’s cum in my mouth!” She giggled, eyes wicked.
Tom shuddered, but the flush of his cheeks and the shine in his eyes left no doubt—he had loved it.
Heather tilted her head. “Did you like that? Did you like tasting another man’s cum?”
He nodded, then whispered, “Yes.”
Her grin widened. “Good boy. I think I still have some on my face—would you like to lick it off?”
He would. He did. She held his head while he licked my release from her chin, her cheeks, her lips, until his tongue had cleaned her.
Then she turned back toward me, stroking my slick cock lazily. “There’s more here,” she said, nodding toward me.
Tom froze, staring at my wet shaft. Heather gave him a knowing look and another tiny nod. He clutched her panties tighter, breathing through them as if for courage, and then bent forward.
Heather watched with fascination, her hand still stroking my cock just below Tom’s mouth, as if she were guiding him like one of her toys. “That’s it,” she murmured, her voice low and thick with arousal. “Taste him properly.”
The first touch of his tongue made me jolt—a hot, wet flick against the sensitive head. He hesitated only for a heartbeat before taking me deeper into his mouth. He licked, then sucked, lips wrapping tight, his eyes shut as if surrendering to the inevitability of it. The sight alone should have revolted me—but instead a wave of perverse pleasure rolled through me, the raw, wrongness of it sharpening my arousal.
Tom obeyed without hesitation. His mouth slid lower, swallowing nearly all of me, and then—without being told—his tongue dropped to my balls. He sucked one into his mouth greedily, then the other, moaning as if he needed me inside him, before returning to my cock. My hips jerked despite myself, his eager mouth teasing me in ways I’d never imagined he could.
The hottest part wasn’t even his tongue—it was the fact that this wasn’t really my doing at all. Heather had given me to him. And as I watched her eyes glitter, her body still trembling from her own climax, I realized she was open now, more open than she had ever been. Tonight, there was no doubt left: I was going to fuck her while Tom watched.
Normally, at my age, I need a decent bit of time between rounds—between coming and being able to get hard again. But time seemed to disappear. I swelled in Tom’s mouth, not close to release again, but riding that delicious sensitivity, enjoying every eager lick. After a few minutes, though, I pulled him off me and nodded toward Heather. “The poor man needs some attention.” His cock was poking above the waistband of his lacy panties, already wet with his own precum.
Heather leaned back slightly, giving me a subtle nod. I sank to my knees in front of him, the lace waistband just above my fingers. A flush of guilty pleasure coursed through me as I bent over, heart racing, and slid the panties down his hips. The instant they cleared his thighs, his cock sprang free, standing proud and glistening right in front of my face. The sight made me gasp, the heat pooling deep in my gut as I traced the outline with my eyes, drinking him in, knowing Heather was watching every second.
Heather smiled knowingly. “Take a seat and watch,” she instructed.
I obeyed, retreating just a bit as Heather swung onto him in a quick, practiced straddle, cowboy-style, and rode him hard. Her hips slammed down fast, relentless, until Tom arched up and clung to her, crying out as he spilled into her with a shuddering climax.
Even after he finished, Heather stayed firmly on top of him, keeping his cock deep inside her as she leaned down to kiss him hungrily. Then she straightened, her eyes flicking between the two of us, the power in her expression unmistakable.
Watching them like that had been an overwhelming turn-on, and I realized I was hard again—fully, urgently so. Heather saw it too, and smiled as she commented on it, making sure I knew she had noticed.
“Tom, I’m not done yet. Would you mind terribly if I had a round with the Yank while you gather yourself?” Heather said with a broad grin.
Tom rejoined, joking, “I’ll keep a stiff upper lip while you do so.”
Throughout the night, we kept cycling—Heather riding one of us, then the other, teasing, guiding, keeping us both on edge. Tom cleaned up every bit of mess along the way, licking, stroking, and even using his fingers to savor her juices and the remnants of her creampies. Heather watched us both, verbal and insatiable, praising, instructing, and guiding every movement. There was a gleam in her eye, a teasing suggestion that she might have enjoyed seeing Tom and me play together, and I had no doubt that he would have been eager too—but it was never directly mentioned, and it never happened. Still, each turn, each touch, each shared cum moment reinforced the dynamic she had orchestrated: us completely surrendered, her utterly in control, and the three of us lost in pleasure until the first light of morning.
===
Steam drifts behind me as I step out of the bathroom, fresh from the shower, toweling my hair. My suit hangs waiting on the chair. The bed is a mess of twisted sheets and dark patches, and Sue is still sprawled across it, hair tangled, makeup smudged, body glowing with the night’s excess. She looks utterly spent, utterly satisfied. Tom is downstairs making breakfast.
She raises her hand lazily, and dangling from her fingers are her panties from last night. The lace is crumpled, the gusset visibly darkened and damp. Her voice is low, roughened by use.
“Your trophy,” she murmurs. “But only if you wear them to your meeting today. Under your suit. All day.”
I hesitate for only a moment. Women’s underwear wasn’t my thing … but hey, Tom had become a very special friend. I take them from her hand. The gusset is soaked, still tacky with her arousal and his cum, and when I press them into my palm, a shiver ran through me. She grins and sinks back into the pillows, already closing her eyes, her work done.
Minutes later, I slid the panties on, then my dress pants, a button-down shirt, and tie, and slid into my jacket. The lace from the panties gripped my thighs, but it’s the wet gusset that overwhelmed me—clammy, clinging, squashed tight against my balls. Each step, each shift, squeezed that damp fabric harder into me, smearing the juices deeper against my skin.
By the time I’m sitting in my morning meeting, colleagues droning on about quarterly figures, the sensation is unbearable. The wet gusset feels alive, pulsing against me, as if I’m being made to carry the night’s memories in the most intimate way possible. My cock stirs helplessly, trapped against the soaked fabric, twitching with every subtle movement.
And then the thought strikes me, vicious and sudden: what if they aren’t Sue’s? What if she slipped me not her panties … but Tom’s?
The idea perversely makes my cock swell harder, balls grinding deeper into the wet gusset, while I sit there squirming, sweating, nodding at pie charts, carrying their secret mess pressed tight against my skin.
