When I woke up I could tell there was something wrong with me. I felt like I had a hangover, and the worst case of brain fog. When I tried to sit up, I felt a mild sensation of vertigo and I flopped back down on the bed. John noticed right away.

"Are you okay?"

Then I remembered last night and actually passing out from that intense orgasm. More like a 'grand mal' orgasm. Calling those episodes 'la petite mort' or just a 'little death' is really misleading. It’s not a 'little' thing at all. Do men ever get an equivalent after effect like this?

"Yeah, just a bit wiped out from last night."

I didn't want to admit it, but last night was overwhelming, mentally, physically and emotionally. It all unfolded too quickly. The sequence of events had been a serious reality check for me.

I had been responsible for setting off the chain reaction of events that followed: my intentionally provocative picture of John with his arm around me at The Whitney; my comments about him wanting to fuck me and that he had already been groping me; my husband's graphic picture of his erection as his response instead of jealousy or outrage.

He was actually aroused. That should have been a red flag right away. But I was having too much fun 'playing our game' to realize the ground was shifting under my feet.

Then John's seemingly far out theory that my own husband actually wanted me to get laid by other men AND he wanted to participate in it.

That was followed by my natural, initial skepticism. But my mind was already racing through the recent past. I realized my own husband had been grooming me all along for this moment. Encouraging me to take this solo trip was the next step--he never actually needed to stay home for his work. Having me meet someone, anyone, was what he actually hoped would happen. It happened to be John, but it easily could have been anyone I met during this trip. He knew that staying at the Ned NoMad is tailor made for chance encounters like the one I had. I was seeing everything that had happened in the last 72 hours in a whole new light.

When John and I posed naked for him in that last picture and he responded with, "How long have you known?" It was like being shot out of a cannon. He was making sure all my restraints were off. My husband may not have been able to see us, but just hearing what was going on made it obvious I was enjoying something I had never felt with him. And that just turned him on even more.

Knowing David was listening to us was an aphrodisiac for John and I. It was like an out-of-body experience. The fact that I had blacked out in the aftermath confirmed that his silent presence was the catalyst for John's extreme fucking of me and my extreme response.

I knew I wanted to repeat the experience. No doubt that is exactly what my husband wants. The only way to feel that again would be to repeat last night's encounter. But it would likely have to be an escalation of what we just did. I showed John my husband's final text from last night.

**That was incredible. You were amazing. Thank you. Best wife ever!**

Even John was a bit surprised, despite being the one who first 'diagnosed' my husband's intentions. As John and I were discussing this new reality, a text arrived from David.

**how soon can we do that again? I REALLY need to watch him fuck u**

I showed it to John. "Holy shit! He's even more into this than I realized." If John was shocked, I was flabbergasted. We were already spooning at this point as one of his hands grasped my breast and I could feel his hardening cock start searching for my waiting, still wet pussy.

"Sorry darling. Time for maintenance." My diaphragm had been in for the necessary 6 hours since our mind-altering sex of last night. Time to remove it and clean up so I can reuse it later. "Both of you will have to wait til tonight." John let out a frustrated groan that almost made me want to reach back and shove his cock into me myself. I texted back to my husband.

**watch us.? Are u sure you're ready for that?**

He was quick to reply.

**I've been ready for 10 years. I've been waiting too long already!**

Jesus. All I could think of was a few men I had played with at David’s urging during those years. I probably would have fucked them, but I didn't, incorrectly assuming that would be going too far for us back then. I texted back:

**we'll see you at tonite's check-in**

I showed the text to John. He realized tonight would be visual, not just auditory. He gave me a silent look. It was understood. Tonight would be an escalation.

I got in the shower, took out and washed my diaphragm and cleaned out the last of the spermicide/cum mixture still lingering in me. Just then, John came into the bathroom with his hard cock, no condom, and entered the shower behind me with obvious intent.

"John, I don't have any protection!"

"Don't worry, I'll pull out before I cum." Famous last words I thought, but in the steamy shower with our slick, wet skin sliding against each other, there was little chance I would resist. With one firm hand on my breast and the other guiding his cock, he was in me in a second. Rear entry is my kryptonite and he's now fully aware of that weakness to take advantage of me. It's been a few years since I've done it standing up, shower or no shower. But reaching up to hold onto the shower head gave me the support I needed while his torso slapped against me. He was able to grab hold of both of my breasts now. Too bad we didn't include David in this spontaneous event. He would have been excited seeing John's size, lack of condom and how easily I was accommodating him. Or would he?

Naturally, I came well before him, my legs quivering as they struggled to support me and unwind the tension of my orgasm. True to his word, he pulled out while gripping my body as tightly as ever, his cock firmly against my lower back, grunting like an animal with each shudder of his climaxing body. Even the warmth of the water flowing over us didn't disguise the repeated spurts of his cum shooting up my back. As I held onto the showerhead and gasped for breath, I could only look straight down at the shower drain. His cum gradually flowed into the drain and washed away. I could only shake my head realizing that he's still full of surprises. And still full of those incredible gobs of semen.

I had planned to go to Central Park with my sister and nephews so they could play with their sailboats in the pond and have lunch. John was meeting some of his colleagues for lunch and later in the evening, we'd be meeting at the Guggenheim Museum for another exhibition tour. Not as formal as The Whitney last night, but worthy of some kind of nice dress. I would not wear the black gown a second night in a row. And both my black thigh-high stockings were torn from the rough sex last night. I had to toss them in the trash. The maid will really be able to read this room from the torn hose and the messed-up bed when she cleans up.

lt was a beautiful, warm, sunny day to sit and talk with my sister at the park while the kids played out of earshot of our conversation, thankfully, because it didn't take long for her to veer off in an unexpected direction.

"So, tell me about this guy you're fucking this week. I'm assuming it is just one guy, right?"

I was shocked. "What are you talking about? Whatever gave you that idea?"

She gave me her best skeptical raised eyebrow, and half-frown.

"Seriously? You don't think I can tell? Fuck, I can smell his cologne and his sex all over you from a mile away! I saw that picture of you on your Facebook page, holding up the birthday present for your grandson with the Flatiron building in the background. It wasn't a selfie. I knew the shadow of the guy taking the picture wasn't some random stranger. Lucky my husband is out of town. He'd assume I was fucking the DoorDash guy if he came home and smelled you and your lover boy all over our apartment!"

Wow, that was an earful. I didn't realize it was that obvious. I guess I'm busted. She didn't let up though.

"Hey, don't sweat it, sis. You've told me for years about those 'games' you and David like to play. Definitely a total turn on just listening to them. I even dipped my toes into that flirting wife thing a few times with my hubby. It's fun. So, I totally get it. Taking this trip on your own was the perfect opportunity to take it to the next level. But what if David finds out?"

Long story short, I told her everything that happened from my arrival in NY, from meeting John up through last night's events, with David listening to John and I fucking for half an hour, including my mind-altering orgasm that rendered me momentarily unconscious. She stared at me in stunned silence for what seemed like an eternity.

"Holy. Fucking. Shit! Are you fucking kidding me? You get to fuck this guy all you want AND your husband not only encourages it, he gets off on it? Next thing you're gonna tell me, he's hung like a horse!"

I was silent, but I couldn't stifle a smirk that started to creep across my lips at this last conjecture. She naturally realized her guess was actually on target.

"OH. MY. GOD. You just catch every break there is, don't you! The least you can do is send me a picture or two of his dick so I can get myself off looking at his cock! Better yet, can you just give me an hour alone with him so I can ride that thing?"

Now she was just messing with me. That's the last thing I needed to visualize. I can't even imagine what her younger, tighter body looks like naked, let alone having an image of her getting pounded by my bf. Of course getting pounded by John would put an end to her whining about my 'unfair' good fortune for a few days. But I wasn't going to give John even a little chance of knowing how hot my sister was after hearing about his 'attributes'. I'm keeping him all to myself!

Of course, I couldn't help myself when it comes to teasing my kid sister. On the way back from her place I texted her a picture of John's cock, one that I was saving to send to my husband at the right moment. It was an image of John's huge erection with my hand at the base of it, to show the scale. With my fingers unable to meet each other, his size was obvious. And she would know it was not some image I downloaded from a porn site since my signature nail polish stood out. I got her text response a few minutes later:

**OMG, you fucking whore! he really is hung like a horse!**

That really made me laugh. Glad to know I could still piss her off after all these years. Several minutes passed before I got her next text:

**My hand is down my panties right now going a mile minute. THANK YOU SIS!**

The mental image of my little sister feverishly masturbating to that picture of John's cock was definitely hilarious. Obviously I could hardly blame her, since he inspired me to masturbate my first night here without having actually seen his cock! Several more minutes passed before I got her final text of the day.

** You selfish fucking whore, having his horse cock all to yourself! Hope you have a great night getting railed with both John and your hubby while I have to spend the night alone with my vibrator and your bf's dick pic!**

Priceless. But she's probably right to feel at least a little jealous. In a way she was getting me more psyched up for tonight's session with John and my husband.

It was time to head back to the hotel and get dressed for the Guggenheim. I had a simple navy blue dress with short sleeves to wear, nothing special or sexy about it, but it would probably strike the right tone. Tasteful and not at all provocative. But I decided to take a slight detour by Journelle, my favorite lingerie shop in NYC. Just looking at their website is hot! In the window I noticed a very nice lace-trimmed liquid slip dress in a shimmery silver hue. Very striking, though it was no more revealing than my blue dress. But it had the advantage of looking like a flashing neon sign instead of a subdued Navy blue. They had my size, I bought it and got back to the hotel in plenty of time to get ready. I even had some shoes that would work with it.

Best of all, this was another dress best worn bra-less, but this time with very secure spaghetti straps--no danger of any 'Madame X' type slippage off either shoulder, much less cleavage showing and no side slit to expose my inner thighs, intentional or not. But still a bit sheer so I needed to avoid any 'VPL' and go commando again. And rather clingy material so I even had to give myself a quick shave in the shower. No time for a Brazilian wax job before this date. Can't imagine what John would think if he started exploring again and finds there's no longer any 'rug to match my drapes', just smooth skin.

Once again, the looks in the hotel lobby as I left and from the Uber driver confirmed my choice. Even John was a bit speechless when I arrived at the museum. His male colleagues were VERY appreciative and his women colleagues were slightly appalled by the bold look. But they'd be ticked off if I wore a nun's habit as long as I was in the company of 'their' male colleague who had been more available for years.

But the whole evening went very well. Being at the Guggenheim brought back pleasant memories of my childhood when my parents brought my sister and I here for the first time. I had read about the place in a Scholastic Reader article in grade school with photos of the ramp winding it's way down to the ground floor. The famous paintings were secondary to the idea of starting at the top and working my way down to the first floor. And probably taking the elevator up again to start all over. I don't fully remember, but I'm sure my sister and I probably fought the urge to run all the way down that sloping ramp. But now I could savor the wonderful works of art and the walk as I savored those childhood memories.

In the Uber on the way back, John pulled out a tiny velvet drawstring pouch, the kind jewelry stores often provide for special gifts. I was shocked. A diamond ring? Some kind of crazy proposal? Or some other piece of expensive jewelry? That would be too much! I was relieved when I opened it to reveal a simple gold anklet. I gave a slight eye roll.

"Very funny. And naturally, you want me to wear it on my right ankle?"

"Of course! You're an official hot wife now! Wear it with pride!"

Hmm. I went ahead and put it on. David would probably love seeing it during our check-in tonight. But I'm not sure how often I'd wear it elsewhere. With or without John next to me.

Then he pulled out another pouch. Something a little heavier and substantial, though compact. I let it tumble into the palm of my hand. A black silicone, tapered butt plug with a round, dazzling disk for a base. Another eye roll from me.

"Seriously? Is this for me or you?" I asked.

"You, of course. Don't knock it until you've tried it. Miriam swore by hers. I thought she was crazy, but she said there was nothing better than sex with the nice, full feeling of having hers in place whenever we made love."

Well, that's a lot to process about his late wife. But he had already shared the fact that she was usually the instigator in introducing new things in their sex life, so this was unsurprising. At least the receipt was still in the bag, so I was assured I wasn't being 'regifted' his wife's most intimate piece of hardware! I wouldn't put it past some guys to do exactly that! I let him know I had little interest in this gift toy, at least for now. He didn't seem too disappointed. It was a good sign he was itching to try new things and not just stay in a rut. This cuckold thing with my husband was definitely enough new ground for me right now. A butt plug might be stretching things a bit too far. If you know what I mean.

When we got back to our room, David took a shower. I looked up advice on the best way to insert a butt plug. I figured I would surprise him by having it in place before we went to bed. I'd leave my dress on so he wouldn't see it until we were ready to join in with David. He'd get a charge out of it, too. Plus, I had plenty of lube already to make the insertion 'doable'. It turned out to be just a little more difficult than inserting my diaphragm, which I also immediately inserted as well. There was definitely a new, full and stimulating feeling with the plug in place as my fingers and diaphragm went up my vagina! John and his wife were totally on to something. I almost couldn't wait until his cock took the place of my fingers with this plug in place! Also, using the diaphragm instead of a condom would appeal to my husband. He'd see the full effect of John's ejaculation when he climaxed.

Just as I was finishing, I heard a knock at the door.

When I opened it, there was my sister, wearing a trench coat, loosely belted at the waist. I couldn't tell what she was wearing under the trench coat, but she was bare-legged and showing more than a hint of cleavage.

"What the heck are you doing here at this time of night?" I asked.

"I got the babysitter, last minute. Miracle of miracles, she was available! Isn't that wonderful? I've got the whole night free!"

What the fuck? I thought to myself as I grabbed her forearm and yanked her into the room, looking both ways down the hall to see if anyone else had seen her before I dragged her into the room. She giggled like a naughty schoolgirl as she stumbled into the room. I could smell the wine on her breath even before she regained her balance. I heard the sound of John turning off the shower, he would be walking in on us at any moment, drying himself off with a towel, his cock swinging between his knees. My butt plug was already feeling several sizes too big than just a few minutes ago as my pelvic muscles contracted involuntarily in a silent scream. Then my phone buzzed with the incoming text from David, right on schedule, I turned to pick it up.

**ready to start?**

As I turned to place my phone carefully on the night stand aimed at the bed and live streaming, I heard my sister's trench coat fall to the floor. When I turned back to look, for the first time in my adult life I was staring at my sister's completely naked body, shaved pussy and obscenely erect nipples in full view, hands on her hips in a pose that seemed to convey both pride and defiance.

My head was starting to spin like it did just before my 'la petite mort' last night. I thought I was going to faint. I felt both numb and in a trance when I heard John's voice as he headed out of the bathroom.

"So who was at the door this time of night? Did you order room service or something?"

In a vain attempt to distract John, I stepped in front of my sister, slipped off the shoulder straps and let my dress drop to the floor. John stopped in his tracks, stunned and silent as his towel also dropped to the floor and revealed his rapidly growing erection. The room was silent as a tomb.