I remember the exact moment I finally told you my fantasy. You and I—my perfect wife of ten years—were tucked into a quiet corner of the hotel bar on the last night of our Denver getaway. We’d been looking forward to this trip for months—just the two of us, away from the noise, the routines, the responsibilities. And Denver had always been our kind of place: vibrant, a little moody, and full of potential.

The last few days had been incredible. We’d laughed, slept in, wandered the city hand in hand, and made love like we were still discovering each other. But that night… that night had a different energy. There was a look in your eyes—mischievous, knowing—and I had no idea just how far things were about to go. But I’d soon find out.

Earlier that day we booked massages at the hotel’s spa for the perfect way to wind down before our final night out. And being a luxury hotel, the spa didn’t disappoint. After our separate sessions, we met back up in the lobby. I could tell by the way you moved—loose, glowing, almost floating—that it had been everything you needed. Your skin had this soft sheen to it, like you’d just emerged from a dream.

As we rode the elevator up to our suite, I asked how the massage was. You gave me a little smile, that mysterious kind you flash when you’re holding something back. “Amazing,” you said, a little too casually. “Deep tissue. Exactly what I needed.”

I asked, half-joking, “So, did you have some hunky masseuse rubbing all over you?”

You shrugged and said, “He was just a regular massage therapist. Very professional. I barely even saw him… eyes closed most of the time.” You laughed softly and leaned your head on my shoulder. I let it go, but I couldn’t help wondering if there was something in your tone—something just a little playful. I didn’t press. Not yet.

Back in the room, we opened a bottle of wine and put on some music. The golden light from the setting sun filtered in through the windows, casting a warm glow across the suite. I was getting dressed, still buttoning up my shirt, when I saw you in the bathroom mirror—your hair slightly tousled, cheeks still flushed from the massage, standing in nothing but a towel as you leaned over the counter doing your makeup.

Damn, you looked good. Not just beautiful—though you absolutely were—but confident, sexy in a way that felt almost untouchable. You were in your element.

Drawn to you, I walked in behind you and kissed the side of your neck. Your skin was warm. You turned to me with a smirk and kissed me—slow, deliberate, with a hunger that caught me off guard. Then your hand slid down and grabbed my cock, already starting to thicken at your touch.

“Whoa,” I said, a little breathless. “What’s gotten into you?”

You gave me a wicked smile. “I dunno. Maybe the massage. Maybe this trip. Maybe just seeing you watch me.”

That did something to me. I pulled you close and kissed you again, my hands exploring the towel around your hips. As I slipped one down to touch between your legs, I felt it—wet, warm, ready. My pulse quickened.

But just as fast, you pushed my hand away. “Mmm… no,” you whispered with a teasing look in your eyes. “We don’t have time. We’ll be late.”

“Seriously?” I groaned, aching already.

“Patience, baby,” you purred. “It’ll be worth it.”

You turned back to the mirror, and I forced myself to walk out, the anticipation now smoldering between us. A few minutes later, your voice floated from the bathroom. “I’m ready, baby.”

When I looked up, I froze. You were standing in the doorway, and my breath caught in my throat.

You were wearing that dress. The one you bought just for this trip. I hadn’t seen it on you before, and now I couldn’t look away. It was black, sleek, cut low in the front and just short enough to raise questions. On anyone else, it might’ve looked too bold, but on you—it was stunning. Confident. Daring.

You looked like a fantasy.

And then I noticed—no bra. My eyes traced the soft, natural curve of your breasts under the thin fabric. And then you walked past me slowly, and I realized something else—no panties either.

My heart pounded. My mind raced. You didn’t say anything. You just smiled, knowing exactly what you were doing to me.

I was speechless. All I could do was follow you out the door.

When we got downstairs, the hotel bar was buzzing with life. The speakers played smooth, sultry music, and the place was packed. The lights were dim, the crowd young and energetic. The whole space had an upscale, sexy vibe. Definitely a spot for adults looking to end the night on a high note.

We were seated at a small table tucked into a corner. The moment we sat down, I reached across to hold your hand. I couldn’t stop looking at you. The way the low light danced off your skin. The way your dress clung to your curves. The quiet confidence in your smile. You were magnetic.

The waitress came by, and I asked, “What’s going on tonight? The place is packed.” She laughed and said, “Big music festival nearby. People come here to pregame before heading out.” That explained the crowd—twenty- and thirty-somethings, all buzzing with energy.

We ordered cocktails and something to eat, but honestly, I don’t even remember what we had. The real appetite was at our table. We sat there, drinking, laughing, our feet brushing under the table. Every now and then, your dress would ride up just a little higher, or you’d cross and uncross your legs in that deliberate way that made it impossible to think straight.

You leaned in close, your voice low, sultry. “So… you like the dress?”

“Are you kidding?” I said. “You’re the hottest thing in this room.”

You gave me a look—playful, dangerous. “Good. I wore it just for you.”

And right then, I knew something had shifted. The night had just begun. But something more than cocktails and conversation was brewing between us.

Something electric.

As the night wore on, the drinks worked their quiet magic. We weren’t drunk—at least that’s what we told ourselves—but there was a looseness between us, an uninhibited ease that only came from just the right amount of alcohol, just the right amount of privacy, and the thrill of being away from everything familiar.

The conversation gradually drifted into more dangerous territory. Your eyes sparkled mischievously as I leaned in and said, almost casually, “So… back to that massage. Was it a happy ending?”

You gasped and playfully slapped my arm, laughing. “No! Would you stop it?”

I grinned, loving how flustered you got. “Come on, I was just kidding. But seriously—did you go all natural? I was thinking about it earlier… the idea kind of turned me on.”

You gave me a mock glare, then softened. “Well… if I’m being honest, when the woman walked me back to the room, I assumed she was the masseuse. So once I got settled in and alone, I figured I’d get as comfortable as possible. Took everything off except my thong. Didn’t want to mess with a bra, you know?”

I raised an eyebrow, now very much picturing it. “So then what happened?”

“Well… a few minutes later, the actual masseuse walked in. And, surprise—it wasn’t the woman. It was a guy.”

My mind instantly painted the scene. “And you were already stripped down?”

“Yup. I freaked out a little, but by then, it was too late. So I just stayed under the towel and went with it.”

Something about that admission hit me right in the chest—or lower. I swallowed, already aroused. “So… did he get an eyeful?”

“No!” you said quickly. “I was completely covered up. He was super professional.”

“Still,” I murmured, leaning closer, “the thought of you lying there… barely anything between you and his eyes—that’s kind of a fantasy of mine.”

You smirked. “You’re such a guy.”

“I am,” I admitted, “and I’m imagining all kinds of things now.”

To keep the heat simmering, I asked, “Speaking of fantasies… tell me one of yours. Something I don’t know.”

You hesitated, but only for a second. Whether it was the wine or the mood or the dim lighting wrapping around us like velvet, you opened up. You told me things—naughty things—some from your past, some ideas you’d never dared say out loud before. I listened, enthralled, every word making me harder beneath the table. I couldn’t believe you’d kept these secrets from me—and I was loving every second of hearing them now.

And then I noticed it—some guy across the room, watching you. Not a casual glance, not just once. Repeatedly. Subtle, but obvious enough to catch my attention.

You noticed I was distracted and asked, “What are you looking at?”

I nodded discreetly. “There are a few guys over there. One of them’s checking you out. Hasn’t stopped since we sat down.”

You turned to look, just as the guy looked at you. Your reaction was immediate—you whipped your head back toward me, wide-eyed, face flushed like you’d seen a ghost.

“Whoa,” I said, laughing. “Embarrassed you got caught?”

But you leaned in, voice low. “No… you don’t get it. That guy… is my masseuse.”

I stared. “Wait. Seriously? That’s him?”

“Yeeeah,” you said, eyes still wide. “I didn’t recognize him at first, but now… yeah. That’s definitely him.”

I couldn’t help but smirk. “So the guy who had his hands all over you earlier is now here… checking you out in that dress?”

You looked flustered, maybe even a little guilty. “I didn’t plan that.”

“Oh, I know,” I said. “You just happened to stroll in here looking like that. No underwear, no bra, and now your masseuse is watching you.”

You swatted my arm again, laughing nervously. “Stop it!”

But I pressed. “So, now that you’ve seen him… do you think he’s good-looking?”

You rolled your eyes. “I don’t know. Maybe? He’s fine. Doesn’t matter.”

“That’s not an answer,” I teased. “Is he good-looking?”

You sighed. “Okay, yeah. He’s good-looking. I’m sure most women would think so.”

I smiled. “Fair enough.”

The moment passed, but something had shifted. A current ran between us—hot, teasing, alive.

A little later, I noticed your eyes drifting again. You were watching him. Not openly. Not boldly. But definitely watching.

When I caught you, I raised an eyebrow.

You knew you were busted but you smiled, and then pivoted hard. “So… tell me some of your fantasies.”

I smirked. “Baby, you already know them all.”

“Ugh, that’s no fun… so how about you drop your fork,” you said suddenly, your eyes gleaming.

“What?” I laughed. “Why?”

“Just do it. Trust me.”

Curious, I nudged the fork to the floor. As I leaned down to retrieve it, I glanced over at you—and saw everything.

Your legs were spread beneath the table, just enough for me to see what no one else could. No panties. Smooth, bare skin. A view I could never get tired of.

I sat up quickly, eyes wide. “You are so damn naughty.”

You leaned in, voice low and thick with heat. “You should take me out of town more often. I promise, you’ll never be disappointed.”

My boxers were tight now, the ache of wanting you deep and undeniable.

Then you said, “Now that I’ve been naughty, I want you to be naughty too. Tell me one of your fantasies.”

I hesitated, caught off guard. But you pushed gently. “Come on… your naughtiest one. I want to hear it.”

The wine, the heat, the thrill of your teasing—I couldn’t hold back. It’s like you were challenging me. “Okay… I think it would be insanely hot to see you flirt with some guy in here. Just watch you turn on that charm, knowing how sexy you are.”

Your eyes lit up. “Oooh really?”

“Yeah. I dare you.”

You tilted your head. With some hesitation you said, “Yeah, ok, I’ll do that, baby. But you pick the guy.”

I didn’t even hesitate. “Your masseuse.”

You recoiled, laughing. “No! Not him!”

“You said he was good-looking. And it’s my dare. You said I could choose.”

You looked at me, flushed and uncertain. “So you want me to walk over there and… flirt? That’s it?”

“Just do whatever you think would be sexy for me to watch. Be naughty. Be slutty if you’re brave enough.”

You bit your lip. “Okay… but just for you. And I’m not being slutty.”

You stood up slowly, adjusted your skirt just enough to raise my blood pressure, kissed me softly, and whispered, “Keep your eyes on me.”

I did. Every single second.

You walked across the room, all curves and confidence. You sat beside him, and I saw him light up the second you opened your mouth. You laughed, leaned in, crossed your legs—toward him. I knew exactly what he might see if you moved just right.

Then you touched his leg. Whispered something in his ear. I felt jealous. Curious. I could barely breathe.

Moments later, you returned. You looked flushed, charged.

“Well?” I said, practically jumping out of my skin. “What happened?”

You smiled, mysterious. “Nothing. I told him we noticed him looking. He said he was trying to figure out where he knew me from. I reminded him I was his client earlier. He asked if you were my husband, and I said yes. He said you were a lucky man. That’s when I touched his leg—for you to see. And then I left.”

I stared at you. “So… no flirting?”

“Mmm, not really,” you said, then paused. “But I wanted you to wonder if I was.”

“And what did you whisper?”

You paused. “It was loud—I just leaned in to tell him I was heading out. Thanked him again for the massage.”

You looked flushed. I couldn’t tell if it was embarrassment or something else. You changed the subject, but I caught the flicker in your eyes.

“So that’s your fantasy?” you teased. “Me talking to a guy for three minutes and touching his leg? That’s it?”

“That’s a start,” I said, grinning.

You leaned back, eyes narrowing with playful suspicion. “So tell me. The whole fantasy.”

I hesitated.

“Come on,” you said. “Don’t hold back.”

I exhaled, then said it, blunt and raw. “A threesome. With you.”

Your mouth just fell open because I said it so bluntly.

You snapped back, “Are you serious? THAT is your fantasy?”

As soon as I said it, I felt like an idiot. I was just talking naughty but went too far with it.

I cringed, thinking I’d just spoiled the mood. But then, as if to play my game, you looked over at him, back at me, and said quietly, “Well… yeah. That could be hot.”

I was stunned into silence.

And then, as if to pull away from the moment, you stood up abruptly. “I need to run to the bathroom before we go.”

You disappeared into the crowd. I waited, unsure what to make of your reaction. When you came back, you seemed totally fine. Maybe a little frustrated, but fine.

“Ready?” you asked.

I nodded. “What took so long?”

You smiled, lips unreadable. “The place is packed. There was a long line to get in to the bathrooms. Let’s go, baby.”

And just like that, we left. But I knew, without a doubt—this night was far from over.

————

Your demeanor completely shifted the moment we stepped out of the bar. The playfulness, the teasing—it was still there, but now it carried a different kind of energy. An undercurrent of tension. The kind that buzzes between two people who’ve been winding each other up for hours, and are finally on the edge of giving in.

As we walked toward the elevator, your stride was quick, like you had a mission—and I could feel it. That spark. That charge. We were locked in again, perfectly in sync, and now finally alone.

The elevator doors slid shut behind us, and in an instant, you were on me—kissing me, your hands grabbing at my shirt. Your lips were hungry, your body pressing into mine. I grinned mid-kiss and whispered, “So this is why you were in such a hurry…”

You didn’t say a word. You just moaned softly and pulled me closer. Emboldened, I aggressively backed you against the wall of the elevator and kissed you harder, deeper. My hands ran up your thighs, under your dress—and when I reached between your legs, I found exactly what I hoped: nothing but bare skin.

“Mmmm…” I growled, my lips brushing your ear. “Still no panties.”

You arched your back against me, eyes half-closed. The elevator dinged, jolting us out of the moment. We composed ourselves just enough to stumble out, barely holding back from tearing into each other right there in the hallway.

Once inside the room, you walked ahead of me with that confident, teasing sway in your hips. You reached back and slowly unzipped your dress, letting it slide down your body in one effortless motion. When it hit the floor, you stepped out of it, revealing just your black heels. You didn’t look back at me at first—you knew I was watching. And then you turned your head and said, voice low and sultry, “I’m going to shower… if you want to join me.”

I didn’t even answer. I was already hard as a rock, still buzzing from our entire night of flirting and teasing. You turned and started toward the bathroom, and I couldn’t help myself—I tossed out one more provocation.

“Oh hey, while you were in the bathroom earlier, I invited your ‘attractive masseuse’ up to our room.”

You froze for half a second, then looked back at me with a laugh. “Oh baby, you wiiish.”

But I saw something flicker in your eyes. A little spark of curiosity. Doubt. Maybe even… intrigue.

I kept going, loving the way you hung on every word. “No, really. When you stepped away, he and his friends were heading out. He stopped me and told me I was lucky to be with you. I told him you thought he was attractive too.” I paused, watching your eyes narrow slightly. “And then he said, ‘Well, if you’re into it, I could always join you later.’ Like it was the most normal thing in the world.”

You gave a disbelieving laugh, but I could see the wheels turning. “You’re messing with me.”

“Am I?” I shrugged. “I told him our room number. Said if the Do Not Disturb sign was out, it meant no go. If it wasn’t…” I trailed off, watching your reaction. “Well then? Should I put it out?”

You tilted your head, your robe still clutched in your hand, and said, almost too casually, “You’re serious? That’s quite a story. I know you’re just fantasizing… right?”

I walked closer, lowering my voice. “So… should I hang the sign?”

You stared at me, the robe hanging loosely by your side now. Your nipples were clearly hard, your breathing just a bit quicker than before. You walked toward me, slowly, seductively, completely bare and completely in control. The fantasy became clear.

“Mmm. A threesome with you and a hot stranger… yeah, that could be fun,” you murmured, brushing your body against mine. Then, your hand slid down, gripping my cock through my pants. “But I don’t think you could handle it. Seeing another man touch me… taste me…”

I swallowed hard as you looked up at me with a devilish smile. “Or could you?”

My cock was instantly hard.

You were playing me now, locked in on the fantasy. Feeding the fire. I tried to respond, but you weren’t done.

“Tell me, baby… how does it go in your head? Do you want to just watch? Or do you want to both be inside me? Or do you want to hold me down while he—”

I cut you off with a gasp, stunned at how far you were pushing it. You were good at this. Too good. My knees almost buckled with the rush of adrenaline and arousal. I was seconds away from losing control.

But still… you hadn’t hung the sign.

So I pushed again, one final test. “Baby I’m actually being serious. If you don’t want him here, you better hang that sign.”

You just gave a sly little shrug, walking back toward the bathroom. “Well… if he shows up… we’ll just see what happens, won’t we.”

You left that line dangling in the air like a live wire. My heart was racing now, every nerve on edge. Was this still part of the game? Did you actually think he might come?

Then—

A knock.

Three quiet, firm raps at the door.

I froze. You froze.

The Do Not Disturb sign was still in our room.

You turned to me, your expression caught somewhere between excitement and panic. “No way,” you whispered.

“See?” I said, grinning with disbelief. “Told you.”

You laughed nervously, your eyes wide. “No… no way. It’s not him. That’s gotta be room service or—”

Being naked, wearing only heals, you quickly slipped on your short gray robe, belting it tightly, suddenly unsure. Your voice was playful, but your eyes were searching mine. “Well… go answer it,” as if you were calling my bluff.

“You sure?” I asked, hand on the knob.

You hesitated, then smiled—tight, flirty, nervous. “Do it.”

I opened the door.

And there he was.

Standing in the hallway, casually confident, with that same easy smile from earlier. He looked right past me… and straight at you.

Your mouth parted slightly. Your breath hitched. Your robe was tight across your chest, but your legs were bare. His eyes swept over you—once, slowly.

“Wow,” he said. “Didn’t expect to see you again. Especially not like this.”

Then he smirked and added, “Nice heels.”

You let out a shaky laugh, trying to keep it together. But your face was flushed. You were in shock. And yet… you didn’t say no.

I let him in.

And just like that, the room changed. The air got heavier. Charged. Like a storm rolling in.

You were polite, friendly. Just barely. He was charming, but not pushy. We all made a little small talk. Awkward, but weirdly electric. You said nothing at first, then suddenly:

“I’m gonna go shower now.”

Your tone was abrupt. Controlled.

My heart sank. That was it, I thought. You were out. This had gone too far.

But just before you disappeared into the bathroom, you turned, looked me in the eye, and said softly—

“You guys should talk.”

And then you were gone.

————

While you were in the shower, your thoughts were spiraling. Maybe I just asked him up for another massage? That would’ve made more sense. But something about this felt… different. A part of you still believed this had to be a joke. I couldn’t be serious.

But what if I was?

Your heart pounded as your mind wandered, teasing out the possibilities. Would he still be there when you stepped out? Could I really be suggesting a threesome? A fucking threesome?

You felt a rush of confusion, even a little anger—why would I put you in this position? But beneath that, something deeper stirred. If he was still out there, what would you do?

You were scared. But even more than that… you were aroused.

In that moment you felt completely connect to your physical senses. Hot water ran down your body, but it was the heat building inside you that truly consumed you. Your hands moved across your slick skin slowly, almost instinctively. You grazed your breasts, your nipples already tight, and your breath caught as your fingers lingered.

The idea of him just a few feet away, probably imagining what you looked like behind the door, made your pulse race. You let your hand slide lower. Between your thighs, you were already soaked—and it wasn’t from the shower.

You pressed your fingers to your clit, just enough to feel that sharp jolt of pleasure ripple through you. You let out a soft gasp. Every nerve in your body felt on edge, electrified, like you could unravel right there if you kept going. And oh, you wanted to. You wanted to rub slow circles around your clit until your legs trembled and you came hard against your own hand.

But you stopped.

Not because you weren’t desperate to finish—but because the unknown waiting for you outside that door was even more intoxicating.

You shut off the water, breathing heavy, your thighs trembling. You toweled off quickly, barely glancing at yourself in the mirror as you pulled on your robe. Your nipples pressed against the fabric, sensitive and aching. You opened the bathroom door just a crack, and peeked out.

Your eyes scanned the room—and froze.

He was still there, sitting on the edge of one bed. And I was on the other. Waiting. Watching.

That was the moment you knew—I wasn’t kidding.

Your stomach flipped, your breath caught in your throat. Nerves and lust collided inside you, sharp and undeniable. You could’ve turned around, locked the door, pretended this wasn’t happening. But something deeper had already taken over.

You walked out into the room, pulse pounding between your legs.

You weren’t sure what would happen next, but you were desperate to find out.

————

You stepped out of the bathroom like a scene from a dream—slow, sensual, wearing nothing but that short gray robe I knew so well. The way it clung to your curves, barely covering you, was enough to make my heart stop. Your hair was damp, skin still dewy from the shower, and you looked like the embodiment of temptation.

Both of us stared. You could feel it—the weight of our gaze—and instead of shrinking from it, you thrived in it. There was power in that moment, and you felt it rush through you like adrenaline.

I stood up and came toward you, and when we were close, you leaned in, lips brushing my ear. Your voice was low, breathy, and trembling with anticipation. “Do you really want this fantasy to come true?” The words sent a jolt through me.

You couldn’t believe you said it—but you said it again, softer this time. “Because I want to… if you really want it.”

My stomach dropped. You meant it. This was real. And I didn’t know exactly what I wanted anymore, but I was too far gone to stop it. I didn’t answer. I just smiled, took your hand, and guided you over to the bed.

You lay back on the bed, not saying a word, but I could feel your pulse in the air between us. Your robe fell open almost effortlessly, baring your breasts to the room—and you didn’t flinch. You didn’t cover up. You let yourself be seen. And he saw you. We both did.

I stripped off my shirt and climbed on beside you, my mouth finding yours in a deep, reassuring kiss. The kind of kiss that said: We’re really doing this.

I reached for your breasts, cupping them, squeezing them, letting my thumbs graze over your hardened nipples. The robe opened wider, your body fully exposed now, and you didn’t hide. You wanted to be seen.

You were lying across the bed, your feet pointed toward him as he sat silently on the other. You glanced up at him and for the first time really looked. His eyes were dark with hunger, his jaw clenched, his stare fixed on you. Damn… he’s hot, you thought, surprised at the raw honesty of it.

And then—without even thinking—you let your legs fall open.

Wide.

Right in front of him.

He could see everything. Your glistening pussy, your soft thighs spread wide, the wet heat between your legs on full display. And you loved it. Loved the way he looked at you. Loved teasing him.

At that moment, it was still just me and you. But you spreading your legs wasn’t just an exhibition—it was an invitation. You knew he was watching. And the idea of being desired by both of us made your skin buzz.

I reached down, sliding my fingers between your thighs. You were soaked. I felt the heat and slickness and knew you were ready for anything. My nerves were spiking because it was real now. You were giving yourself to this moment—completely.

Then he stood.

Without saying a word, he walked over to the side of the bed. You didn’t move. You didn’t close your legs. You didn’t stop kissing me.

He took that as permission.

I knew what was happening, but I didn’t stop it. I just kept kissing you, pressing deeper, as if to whisper: Don’t stop now.

And you didn’t.

He pulled off his shirt, revealing a toned, sculpted body. He knelt between your legs at the edge of the bed, his hands reaching up behind your thighs as he began to kiss you there—soft, slow, deliberate.

You tensed. Part of you wanted to close your legs, but your body stayed open. Maybe it was hesitation… maybe it was lust. His touch felt foreign but thrilling. After all the years you’d protected yourself from another man’s hands, here you were—letting go.

He ran his hand up your inner thigh, slowly—intimately. Then, without warning, he rubbed gently over your pussy, grazing your clit, and you gasped. The feeling was sharp, electric, and you arched toward him instinctively.

I trailed kisses down your neck, watching your reaction—your tits rising and falling in front of me, nipples stiff, your whole body pulsing with desire.

“Oh… baby,” you moaned, voice shaky, hips shifting, opening even more for him.

His fingers started circling your clit, slow and precise. It was so slippery now, soaked with your own arousal. Then one finger slipped inside you, curling, teasing. Then another. He fucked you slowly with his fingers while his thumb kept stroking your clit.

And then, with no hesitation, he leaned forward, settling between your thighs.

He began to kiss and lick you—his tongue flicking, his lips sucking, exploring you with eager hunger. He held your thighs firmly, spreading you open as he worked his mouth across your most sensitive places. You cried out, a raw gasp tearing from your throat.

You couldn’t believe it—another man’s face was between your legs, licking you, devouring you. And I was letting it happen. No hesitation. Just heat.

You arched your back, stretching your neck, hips rocking toward his mouth as your voice poured out in a long, uncontrollable “Mmmmmm…”

You were lost in it—but then, suddenly, your attention snapped back to me. You needed more. Needed me.

You reached down, pulled my pants down and wrapped your hand around my cock—hard, aching. You brought your lips to it, tongue flicking the head, before you took me deep into your mouth.

I couldn’t tell if you were doing it for me… or for him.

Maybe both.

But the way you sucked me—slow, deliberate, like you knew he was watching—it was a message: Watch me suck my husband’s cock.

And he did.

You were sucking me with wild, desperate energy—your mouth wrapped tight around my cock, moving fast, your tongue dancing against the tip as his mouth stayed buried between your legs. My hands were gripping your tits, fingers digging into your soft flesh, feeling you tremble as your body pulsed with need.

You were already so close. The way he licked your clit, slow and focused, combined with the pressure of my cock in your mouth—it was almost too much.

Then, suddenly, you pulled back, gasping, your lips slick with spit and hunger. Without a word, you grabbed me by the shoulders and pushed me flat onto the bed. You were done waiting. You needed more.

You tugged my pants the rest of the way off and climbed on top of me with purpose. You reached down between your legs, found my cock with your hand, and guided it inside your soaked, aching pussy. You didn’t hesitate. You plunged down onto me, taking every inch, and immediately started to ride me—aggressive, hungry, full of fire.

Your hands pressed flat against my chest, your body rocking on top of me with urgency. Your eyes locked with mine like they had a hundred times before—only this time, there was a rawness to your stare, a fire that burned hotter with the knowledge that we weren’t alone.

He got up. Quiet. Intentional. He slid off his pants and stepped onto the bed closest to you—now fully naked, just feet away from where we fucked.

I felt a flicker of discomfort, but you… you felt a thrill of excitement surge through your body. You stole a glance at him, locking eyes, then letting your gaze slowly drop. You saw the way he was watching you—his eyes following the motion of your body, your breasts bouncing as you rode me, your pussy swallowing my cock, your ass shifting with every thrust.

You saw it in his eyes: he wanted you.

At first, you tried to keep your focus on me, but curiosity won. Your eyes trailed over his body—his sculpted torso, his strong arms, his broad chest. And then you saw it. He was stroking himself, his hand wrapped tightly around a thick, heavy cock—longer and wider than mine.

Your breath hitched. You tried not to stare, but your gaze lingered. You couldn’t help it. It looked big—too big. But the thought of it inside you made your pussy throb even harder around me.

I saw your eyes widen. I saw the hesitation in your face, but also the heat. You looked back at me, flushed and wild-eyed. I could read the desire all over your face.

I stopped moving, pulled out slowly, and gave a subtle nod toward him.

Your mouth fell open a little. You leaned in, face close to mine, whispering urgently, “I… I can’t do that.”

But your body said otherwise. You were trembling with want.

You wanted to protect me. You didn’t want to cross that final line. You were afraid of what it would mean—afraid you might not want to stop once you started.

I reached for your face, kissed your cheek, and whispered into your ear, “It’s just for tonight. I want to watch you. Make my fantasy come true.”

And that’s when I saw it click in your eyes.

This wasn’t just my fantasy anymore.

It was yours too.

You bit your lip and turned toward him. He was lying back now, cock standing tall, thick and waiting. You moved off of me slowly, breath shaky, and crawled over to him, placing one leg over, straddling him. You were sitting on his thighs, his thick cock just inches away from the opening of your warm, wet pussy.

You were naked, glistening, completely exposed. And in control.

Your eyes were on me again—but your attention was on him. You looked down and reached for his cock, wrapping your fingers around it carefully. It was warm, heavy, and pulsing in your hand. It felt unfamiliar to you but you felt so naughty grabbing it. You stroked him slowly, experimentally, feeling the thickness slide between your fingers.

You looked back at me, hesitating one last time. “Are you sure you want to watch me do this?”

I nodded. My voice low, rough. “Yeah… I want you to do it. Show me how naughty you are.”

Something lit up inside you. A fire. A confidence. This wasn’t a game anymore—this was happening. You turned your attention back to him, then slid your hips forward, letting your wet lips glide along his shaft. You moaned at the contact, your body responding instantly as you lathered his cock with your cum, rocking your hips slowly, coating him in your arousal.

You were breathing hard, your whole body quivering with tension. I could barely contain myself watching you—my cock in my hand, rock-hard, stroking slowly.

Then you looked up at me and said with confidence, “Do you want to watch me put this big dick in my pussy, baby?”

You weren’t really asking for permission.

Before I could respond, you lifted your hips, grabbed his shaft, and aimed it at your entrance. You paused—just for a breath—then began to sink down. His head split your lips as he slipped inside with a gentle thrust. You gasped loudly, mouth open, eyes wide.

“Oooohhhh…”

I was overcome with a wave of jealously but I didn’t want you to stop. I wanted to see more. You winced slightly, the stretch already intense. “Ooooh… baaaaby… his dick is so biiiiiig…” you groaned, but kept going, taking more of him inside you. Your pussy gripping tight.

I couldn’t take my eyes off you. The way your pussy slowly swallowed his cock, inch by inch. Your lips stretched tight around him, your body adjusting to the thickness.

You started to move—slow, shallow thrusts at first—getting used to the size. Then, with growing confidence, you took him deeper, your rhythm building, your hips rolling.

He filled you completely.

And I watched as you lost yourself in it.

Your moans got louder, your pace faster, your breasts bouncing wildly as you began to fuck him with your whole body. You looked back at me, breathless, and said, “Are you watching your pretty little wife riding this big hard dick? Does it turn you on to watch me FUCK another guy?”

I was stroking myself harder now, my cock slick and throbbing in my hand. “Yes,” I growled. “Fuck yes.”

You moved faster. Deeper. His cock disappearing into your soaked, needy pussy. You were taking him all the way now, and I could see how much you loved it.

“Is this what you wanted to see?” you teased, moaning louder, body bouncing on top of him.

At first, it was just for me—but now, your own orgasm was building. You didn’t expect it, but the pressure was rising too quickly to stop. You clenched your teeth, trying to hold it back, but the pleasure was consuming you.

Your breath hitched, and in a shaky voice you commanded, “Stroke your cock for me, baby. I want to watch you jerk off to me riding this big dick.”

I obeyed instantly, stroking harder, watching your every move.

You saw how turned on I was—my cock thick, flushed, ready to explode. And you loved it. You rode him harder, your moans echoing through the room.

“Aaahh… aaahhh… aaaahhh… aaaahhh…” you cried out, hips slamming down faster and faster.

Then you looked straight into my eyes and moaned, “You like watching me get FUCKED, don’t you?”

Hearing the words fall from your own lips made something snap inside you. A hunger you couldn’t hold back took over. You began to grind on him—slow at first, then harder, faster—like your body had found its own rhythm, chasing the pleasure building deep within you. Your swollen clit dragged deliciously over his firm pelvis with every motion, the friction electric, setting your nerves on fire. His cock was buried deep, hitting that perfect spot, over and over again. You were so full. So utterly filled.

And you didn’t want to wait. Not anymore.

The need to cum took hold of you like a wave rising too fast to fight. Whether I approved or not, it was happening, and there was nothing you could do to stop it. Your moans turned into gasps, your breath stuttering as your body pulsed with anticipation. His hands roamed your body, greedy, rough, squeezing your breasts, teasing your nipples as you rode him with wild abandon. The expression on your face twisted into something primal, overtaken by pure, raw lust.

“Squeeze my nipples,” you ordered, breathless and urgent.

He obeyed instantly, and it pushed you further, sent your body spiraling toward that edge again. You could barely speak as you begged for more. “Harder… fuck me harder… don’t stop… you’re gonna make me cum!”

It didn’t even sound like you anymore—your voice was soaked in euphoria, drunk on the feeling of being stretched, filled, pounded. Your body was no longer your own. You looked over at me, my fist wrapped tight around my cock, stroking as I watched every second of your blissedful surrender.

Your eyes locked with mine, intensely, as you whimpered through trembling lips, “I’m cumming, baby… I’m cummiiing…”

And you did—hard. Your body convulsed, waves of ecstasy tearing through you, your mouth open in a silent scream before the cries burst out of you like thunder.

“Oooohhh! OHHHHHH FUCK! FUCK YESSSSS! YESSSS!”

It was more than an orgasm—it was a release that took you over completely. Your legs trembled, pussy clenching wildly, your body rocking with each pulse. I could see it all—feel it with you—and I was stunned. Overwhelmed. Insanely jealous but turned on beyond belief.

You looked feral. Divine. Your body slick with sweat, glowing from the inside out. And watching you fall apart like that pushed him over the edge too. He grabbed your hips with both hands, buried deep inside you, and warned you, breath ragged, “I’m gonna cum…”

You didn’t want to stop. Not yet. Even as you felt his cock swell inside you, ready to explode, you kept moving your hips, milking every last second. Your voice trembled as you teased me, “Should I make him cum, baby?”

Your eyes flicked to mine again, waiting for permission, even as your body burned to feel it all. The warmth. The flood. But in a flash of control, you slipped off him, your hand grabbing his slick, soaked cock, stroking it hard. Fast. Desperate. His balls bounced with every pull of your wrist, thick veins pulsing beneath your fingers. You wanted to see him finish.

He groaned—deep, guttural—and then, almost instantly, you watched him release in thick, pulsing waves—ropes of hot white cum cascading across his own stomach as you held his slick, throbbing cock in your grasp. You were breathless, flushed, and wild with power, your eyes locked onto mine as if to say, Did you see what I just did? And I had. Every second. I watched you take control. Mesmerized by your dominate actions. My body ached for you.

Then, you turned toward me, our eyes locked in desire. “I need your cock in me. Now,” you demanded, your voice dark and breathless. That raw hunger—so fierce, so familiar—hit me like lightning. I was already hard as steel, my need for you pulsing through every nerve.

You climbed onto me slowly, deliberately, lowering your hot soaked pussy onto my aching cock inch by inch until I was buried deep inside you. The moment we connected, we both gasped—your body still trembling from before, mine already teetering on the edge. You rocked your hips with slow, aching precision, drawing out every sensation, your pussy gripping me like it never wanted to let go.

But it wasn’t enough.

I growled, flipped you onto your back, and took control. I pinned your wrists above your head and spread your legs wide, plunging into you with hard, relentless thrusts. You arched beneath me, gasping, moaning, begging. “Yes—oh yes—right there!”

You were completely open to me. You were completely uninhibited. Wild. And I was relentless, pounding into you with everything I had. My cock was bigger than ever before. You clutched the sheets, toes curling, your body trembling as I pushed you higher and higher. Your cries turned to screams—raw, unfiltered pleasure bursting from your lips as you came again, soaking me, your body shaking violently with release.

“F—fuck I’m cumming again!” you shouted, your voice cracking with intensity as you rubbed your clit desperately, pushing yourself over the edge again, your entire body unraveling beneath me as your juices squirted out all over my dick, making a beautiful wet mess.

Your walls tightened, pulsing around me, and I couldn’t hold back any longer. My whole body stiffened, the pressure unbearable. “I’m gonna cum, baby—oh fuck I’m gonna—” You grabbed my ass and pulled me even deeper, your voice fierce and commanding.

“Inside me. Fill me up. Now.”

And I did. I came hard—deep, hot spurts pumping inside you as I groaned against your neck, my body rocking with the force of release, reclaiming you as mine. You held me tight, locked to you, both of us trembling, drenched in heat and sweat and something far deeper than lust.

————

We were still catching our breath, our bodies slick with sweat and still tingling from everything that had just happened. We stayed there, tangled and breathless, your fingers in my hair, our bodies joined in every possible way. The sheets were a mess, twisted around our legs.

You looked over at him—still lying back in the armchair, shirtless, watching us quietly. There was no awkwardness. Just a strange, simmering calm.

Realizing it was now my time with you—my wife, your new acquaintance quietly gathered his things and slipped out the door. Not a word was spoken. But as he crossed the threshold, you gave him one last lingering look, a silent goodbye wrapped in electricity. Then, your gaze turned back to me, and everything else fell away.

We lay there in a haze. There was no need for words at first. The quiet between us was heavy and intimate, like the air itself knew something unbelievable had just happened. We were breathless—satisfied, overwhelmed, but more connected than ever.

Then, slowly, you turned your head, your eyes meeting mine. “Did that actually just happen?” you said, your voice barely audible but laced with disbelief… and satisfaction.

I smiled and brushed a damp strand of hair from your face. “Every second of it.”

You bit your lip a little, then whispered to me, “He watched us. The whole time.”

I nodded. “Yeah. He experienced how sexy you are. And how much you love being mine.”

After a few minutes, I pulled you gently toward me. “Let’s take a shower,” I said, my voice low, almost subdued.

You nodded, and we moved together into the steam and warmth of the bathroom. Under the cascade of hot water, we wrapped around each other, hands gliding slowly, tenderly, as if we were rediscovering every inch. The heat only seemed to intensify the bond between us—our movements were slow, deliberate, like we were grounding ourselves in each other after being swept away in a storm. The seduction was quieter now, but no less powerful.

After drying off, we slipped into bed—our bed—and I poured us each a glass of wine. The silence stretched again, this time filled with reflection and curiosity. You were curled up beside me, a soft glow in your eyes, both of us wondering what to say first. I looked at you with a crooked smile and said, “Baby, I love you. Like… truly, deeply, obsessively. You were incredible tonight. In every way.”

You smiled back, cheeks flushed, eyes a little wider. “I love you more,” you whispered. “And… yeah. That was the wildest thing we’ve ever done. Maybe the wildest we’ll ever do. I still can’t believe I let myself go through with it.” You laughed softly, almost incredulous. “Why didn’t you stop me?”

I smirked and shook my head. “Honestly? I didn’t think either of us would actually go through with it. But we did. And it was… something else. That fantasy—we lived it. And I’m obsessed with you even more now.”

Your smile faded into something more serious—nervous, almost. “Actually… I have a confession,” you said, your voice quieter now, more delicate.

My brows lifted, but I smiled reassuringly. “Go on.”

You hesitated, then bit your lip. “Well, remember when you asked me at dinner what me and that guy talked about? I might’ve… left a few things out.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Like what?”

You let out a soft, almost embarrassed laugh. “Okay, promise you won’t be mad?”

“Never baby. I’m listening.”

You took a sip of wine for courage. “First off—nothing really happened at my massage. But… it did turn me on more than I expected. I really did think my masseuse would be a woman—but when I saw it was a man… I don’t know. Something inside me felt like being naughty. Just before he started, he stepped out for a moment, and I slipped off my thong. When he returned, I was draped in nothing but a tiny towel across my hips—and during the massage, it didn’t always stay in place. At one point, I was on my back, my breasts fully exposed, his hands gliding over me… lingering in ways that felt far too intentional. But I didn’t stop him. And by the end, I was insanely hot.”

You looked up at me, watching my reaction.

“That’s one reason I was being so flirty with you while getting dressed for dinner,” you continued. “I wanted to tell you everything, but I was waiting for the right moment. Then when you pointed him out at the bar, I panicked. I didn’t know he’d be there. But then… you dared me. And the moment I started talking to him, something shifted. He said I looked ‘hot as f**k.’ He knew I was married—but you’d dared me, and I was already so turned on from the massage, from you watching me.”

You leaned in a little, your voice softer now, tinged with guilt and arousal. “I even told him that the massage was the most erotic of my life. When I stood up, I grazed his leg… his cock, actually. Then I walked away like nothing happened.”

I stared at you, my breath shallow.

“I was going to wait until we were alone… whisper it to you in bed, just to drive you wild,” you purred, your lips grazing mine. “But then, at the bar, you shared your fantasy—and suddenly, I couldn’t think about anything else. It all felt so naughty. Then, just before we left, I saw him again—alone, waiting in the hallway. That’s why I left you so suddenly. I wanted to give you something even hotter to imagine later. I walked straight up to him, pressed my body against his, and whispered into his ear… ‘If my husband says yes, you can have me. All of me.’ And that’s where I thought it would end.”

There was a long pause.

I was stunned.

“You really said that?” I stammered.

You nodded slowly. “I don’t know what came over me. I was so caught up in the moment with your fantasy. But really, it had become my fantasy too, I think. So yeah… maybe you didn’t completely orchestrate tonight. Maybe we both did.”

I was speechless. Turned onbeyond reason. I could already feel my body responding again, pulsing with desire. I looked at you, eyes full of heat. “Your sexiness has no end.”

You smirked. “Well, you did tell me to be slutty. I just didn’t think anything would actually happen.”

I couldn’t stop staring at you. “You want to know what I think?”

You nodded, breath catching slightly.

I took a deep breath. “I have a confession of my own.”

I paused for a moment to see the curiosity on your face.

I continued, “While you were in the shower… I set up my phone. I recorded everything. Every naughty detail. I thought maybe someday… we’d want to remember just how wild this night got.”

Your eyes widened, a spark of wicked delight blooming in your expression. You bit your bottom lip and said, “Why wait until someday? Let’s watch it now.”