I get asked in messages on Lush who was a better lover, my husband or Justin. The answer is not that simple, as it is not simple to answer about all the other men I had sex with when I was in the swinger lifestyle. They were all different, which does not mean better or worse, just different, even when it came to penis size.

For me, a larger penis was not better than an average-size penis; it was just different. An extremely well-endowed man, I didn’t care for that much. I have been with men who were over nine inches long, and it hurt. Not just at first, but the entire time he was fucking me. It was not the girth that hurt, but the length of the penis.

Oh, it felt good also, and I would orgasm, but it also hurt, and sometimes would make me cry. But it felt good, so I didn't tell them to stop; I endured the pain for the pleasure it gave me. I much preferred an average-size penis, or the perfect size was my husband, who was just over eight inches long.

One of the differences between my husband and Justin was that my husband took what he wanted. When I say my husband took what he wanted, I don’t mean non-consensual sex. He would never do that. He hated two types of people. Men who hit or abuse women and people who hurt kids.

What I mean is when we had sex, he would tell me what he wanted. He would tell me to suck his cock, he would tell me to get on top of him, or he would tell me to turn over I want to fuck your ass, etc.

Justin asked. Justin would ask me to give him a blowjob, ask me to get on top, or ask me to let him fuck my butthole. I liked my husband’s way better.

Patrick was four years older than I, so when the first part of my story takes place, I was twenty-four and Patrick was twenty-nine, while Justin was nineteen. One would think that since Justin was a nineteen-year-old teenager, he would be more insatiable than my twenty-nine-year-old husband. That was not the case.

Patrick’s sexual desire was much more unquenchable than Justin’s, and his endurance was incredible. At times, Patrick could fuck me or make love to me for an hour straight and leave me exhausted, breathless, my pussy sore, and give me many orgasms before he was done. Then, after a short break, start over again.

There were times where he was making love to me or fucking me for so long that I wanted to beg him to stop and let me have a break because he was wearing my poor pussy out, but I never did tell him to stop because my need to have him inside me was greater and his love making brought me to tears, not from pain but from the pleasure he gave me, both physical and emotional.

Even when we had anal sex sometimes and I begged him to fuck my butthole harder, he would, and he would keep fucking my butt, which seemed would go on and on, and it would start to hurt, and I would start crying from the pain. Patrick would stop because he was hurting me, but I would beg him to keep going until he ejaculated inside my butthole. Even though it hurt, I wanted him inside my body so bad that I endured the pain.

Patrick liked morning sex. Morning sex was a need for him. He would get up during the weekdays at five in the morning, go for a five-mile run, and then go to the gym, and come home all sweaty and gross. By the time he got home, I was either still asleep or just getting out of bed to get ready for work.

Patrick would either wake me up or, if I was awake, take me to bed and fuck me before we went to work. That was exactly how morning sex with my husband was; he would give me a great, hard fucking that would last and last. He never made love to me in the morning.

OK, maybe I was wrong, I can answer the question. Sex with my first husband, Patrick, was better. It was the best sex I ever had, even after I became a swinger and had sex with many men during my two years of us being in the swinger lifestyle. I desired other men since my husband and I started experimenting with a swinger lifestyle, since I began having sex with Justin, but I never desired a man as much as I did Patrick.

That was a good question to answer and explain during this part of my story, because it brings up another point about sex and me after I got married.

As you know, I was a virgin before I started dating Patrick, and naïve and innocent about a great deal of sexual activities and sexual needs and desires. I don’t know if this can happen, but it seemed that since I first had sex with Patrick, my libido increased. I wanted him all the time and could not get enough of him. Then I started my affair with Justin, and that seemed to make me want sex even more. So, it was as if all the sex I was having was increasing my need for sex.

Even though I was getting fucked by two men, times when it was both on the same day, I still felt as if I needed sex all the time. It also made me want to experiment and try new things, but that comes later in my story.

My need for sex made something I never would have done before do when on my period. Before having sex with both Patrick and Justin, I never would have done anything sexual when on my period. I always felt so gross and unattractive during my cycle; anything sexual was disgusting to me, but now it was not the case.

I didn’t have vaginal intercourse, that was still gross, but I would give either Patrick or Justin a blowjob, sometimes suck one of their cocks, and later that day give the other one a blowjob. I would also let them have anal sex with me, sometimes both in the same day as well.

Patrick told me one night that I had become conditioned like one of Pavlo’s dogs. Instead of hearing a bell and my mouth salivating and a need to eat, when I heard a zipper unzip, my pussy would get wet, and I had this uncontrollable need for sex. It would have been funny, but when he told me that when he was angry with me. It was the angriest he had ever been with me in our marriage. I honestly thought he was going to divorce me, but he had another solution to “fix me”.

It was all my fault because not just because of my new seeming insatiable appetite for sex. But I was naive and didn’t understand the new dynamics of my relationship with Patrick and Justin. I was only twenty-four years old, and even though I was having a lot of sex with two men, doing various sex acts I never imagined people did and I would enjoy, and I was discovering new fetishes I had, I was still naïve, and I misinterpreted the new dynamics of my marriage.

It had been about three months since I had brought up the idea before I had my first threesome with my husband and Justin. Life got in the way.

I came down with a cold two days after my husband and I had our discussion about my first threesome that lasted almost two weeks. Then Justin started spending more time with his girlfriend and less time with me. I even tried to seduce him one Saturday afternoon when Patrick was playing golf, and he rejected me and told me he was not in the mood!

I never understood that, and I asked my husband one night why Justin needed her when he had me to fuck.

“Well, why do you need him when you have me?” he asked after he chuckled at my question.

“That’s not the same thing,” I insisted.

“How so?” Patrick asked and chuckled again.

“It’s just not!” I insisted. I didn’t have an answer to his question.

“Jennifer, Justin is a teenage boy. He’ll stick his dick in a hole in a wooden fence if it can get him off,” my husband told me. “Plus, Amanda is a pretty girl. Don’t be jealous. He’s not jealous knowing when we have sex.”

Amanda was a beautiful girl; I had to give her that. She was a petite girl who was only about five feet, two inches tall, but she had a nice body with what I guessed to be thirty-six B cup breasts. She had gorgeous, long, thick, black hair and an alabaster complexion. Her heart-shaped face was angelic.

Patrick teased me about being jealous of her, but I was not. I just didn’t like her, even though Patrick also told me she was sweet and a delightful young lady. There was just something about her that rubbed me the wrong way.

“I am not jealous,” I told my husband and turned to my side to put my back to him. Patrick cuddled up next to me and spooned me. I reached behind my back and pulled his arm around my shoulder.

“Why would he want to stick his penis in a wooden fence?” I asked. “Wouldn’t he get splinters?”

Patrick laughed at my serious question, told me I was just perfect, kissed the back of my head, and told me to go to sleep.

It was now after Memorial Day, and our subdivision’s community pool was open, and Justin and Amanda used it often. I used it as well. I liked the water and lying out, and using the pool.

Amanda, or maybe it was Justin, started inviting her older brother over to use the pool as well. He was her stepbrother. He was her stepfather’s son. Jermaine was twenty-one. He was home for the summer from college, where he played football.

Jermine had been attending a smaller in-state college, but he had just gotten a scholarship to Virginia Tech and was transferring to play football.

Unlike how I felt about Amanda, I liked Jermaine. He was nice and respectful. Justin almost hero-worshipped him because he played college football, and he was good enough to maybe play in the NFL, or at least Justin told me.

Jermaine was black, like his father. He was a big young man. He was huge! Patrick told me he played offensive line and needed to be big, especially when he was going to play for an FBS college in a Power Five conference.

I got huffy at Patrick when he tried to explain to me about college divisions and what the Power Five conference meant. I played softball in college, so I knew all about that!

I know what readers may be thinking about right now, and you would be wrong. I was not attracted to Jermaine. I am not attracted to black men, and I was not attracted to his body type.

Jermine stood about six feet, seven inches tall and must have weighed close to three hundred pounds. He was not obese, but he had weight on him, and under the slight flab, you could tell he was all muscle. It was a physique that someone who played his position in football needed.

My husband and Justin said he flirted with me, but I didn’t see it. Of course, I was never good at picking up when men flirted with me. It went over my head most of the time unless they were forward and direct with their flirtations.

He was sweet and nice and not at all as mean as he looked. I enjoyed his company at the pool. When I was at the pool with him, Justin, and Amanda; Jermaine and I often teamed up in pool chicken fighting and always kicked the other two's butt. I loved the pool.

I liked the pool so much that I told my husband we needed one of our own. He asked why, since we had a pool and clubhouse for our subdivision, and I told him I wanted one. Once again, my husband gave in to my whim and spoiled me, and the first week of June, construction started on our pool. It was to be finished by the end of July.

After I was over my cold, my husband caught it, and then Justin did. Also, with family and friend obligations, the threesome I desperately wanted to try was put on hold. It was an odd few months, odd that I was not getting the sex I was accustomed to getting from my husband, and then the additional sex I had gotten used to having with both my husband and Justin.

Then Patrick had to go to his two-week summer reserve duty. This summer, he was going to North Carolina to the Marine Base Camp Lejeune.

The night before he was to leave, I was in the bathroom putting on makeup. We had not had sex in about two weeks because Patrick’s cold turned to a severe case of bronchitis. He said he was feeling better, and I was looking forward to him fucking me. I was downright horny.

Patrick was not one to whine and complain, or have the need to be babied when he was sick. When he got sick, he just powered through it. Getting him to the doctor was a pain in the ass. But this bronchitis knocked him on his butt, and I insisted he let me take him to Urgent Care so he could get some antibiotics.

The first year we were married, he had a kidney stone. I came home from work and found my husband lying on the sofa, sweating and groaning from intense pain. It scared me and I started crying. He told me he was fine, even though he was not. I had never seen anyone in that much pain. I was terrified and wanted to call 911 when I saw there was blood in his urine.

Patrick stopped me from calling an ambulance, but he gave in and said I could drive him to the ER. I knew he wanted to go because the pain got worse.

When we got to the ER, I was sobbing, and the nurses rushed to me thinking I was the one who was sick. I was crying so hard I could not speak and just pointed at my husband to tell them he was the one who needed help, not me.

When I walked out of the bathroom, makeup and hair to perfection, I was wearing one of his work, long-sleeved, white, button-down Oxford shirts. It was stiff from heavy starch. Patrick had a thing about his shirts he wore to work; they had to be pressed and starched, and wrinkle-free. I guess it was a military thing.

I tried to iron them and use spray and starch, but I couldn’t get the creases in them the way he liked, so he did his shirts.

Patrick was not a man for sexy lingerie. Oh sure, I had some sexy lingerie sets I purchased for him to see me in, but he told me I looked sexier when I wore one of his long-sleeved dress shirts. They were too big for me, of course, and the tail came to my knees, but he thought I looked sexy in them, so wanting him to think I was sexy, I wore them for him.

Patrick was sitting up in bed, and while he was waiting for me, he was reading a biography of Katherine Howard. My husband had a love of history that I did not get, and he recently started getting into reading about the War of the Roses and Henry VIII. I didn’t like history, but when he would tell me about what he was reading, I feigned interest.

Patrick put his book across his chest and smiled at me. I knew that smile. I liked that smile. It was a smile of lust and desire. He broke into a coughing fit.

I frowned. “Baby, are you ok? You said you were feeling better,” I said with concern in my voice.

“I am fine, Jennifer,” he assured me. “You look beautiful and sexy.”

I smiled and got into bed, and my husband started coughing again. I placed my hand on his forehead.

“Patrick, you are burning up!” I was worried.

“No, just a slight fever still, but I am good,” he told me.

Patrick put the book on the nightstand and turned his body towards me. He took me in his arms and tried to pull me close to him. I placed my hands on his chest and pushed him back.

“No, baby, I worried. You still don’t feel good, and maybe you should not go tomorrow,” I told him.

Patrick smiled, reached up, and caressed my cheek. “Seriously, Jennifer, I am fine. I still have a couple more days left on the antibiotics, and I have to go tomorrow, you know that. It’s my active-duty deployment, and I can’t get out of it short of a death in the family.”

“The Marines are stupid!” I told him. “You can’t go. You need me to take care of you. You just call that captain of yours and you tell him you can’t go. If you don’t, I will!”

Patrick started laughing and then coughing again. “Don’t be silly, baby, I’ll be fine. Now let’s see what color panties you have under that shirt.”

“No, baby, as much as I want to…damn I need to…we can’t. You're too sick,” I told him.

I then got up and got my husband some cough suppressant medicine, forced him to take it, and made sure he swallowed it. I then gave him some ibuprofen for his fever and made sure he took that as well.

As much as I desired to have sex and felt how badly I needed it, my husband’s well-being was much more important than my sexual needs.

“I was thinking about something,” I told Patrick as I was snuggled close to him and had my head on his chest.

“What’s that?”

“I think…Well I wouldn’t mind…I wouldn’t care if…well…I would care if you had sex with another woman when you are gone,” I finally blurted out.

“What?” Patrick replied and sat up in bed. “What brought that up?”

“Well, it’s just not fair that I have two lovers and so does Justin, but you have me. I would be ok with it,” I told my husband.

Patrick laughed. “You, ok with it? You, who gets jealous when another woman talks to me?”

“I do not!” I insisted.

“What about…what’s those girls' names…umm, Tracy and the girls she hangs out with?” he replied.

“Well, their just a group of sluts,” I told him to justify my jealousy of three girls who lived in the same subdivision.

Tracy and her two friends were sixteen, maybe seventeen, and they had their clique. They would always flirt with Patrick when they saw him at the pool, wave to him when he was cutting grass, and drive by and giggle with each other as they talked about him.

Patrick was older but extremely handsome, had a great physique, and a lot of girls and women flirted with him. I admit I was jealous, even though he never flirted back, especially with teenage girls.

“Baby, I don’t need another woman,” he assured me.

“Well, you’ll be gone for two weeks, and I know how much you like sex, so I just want you to know I will be ok if you meet someone and hook up with her,” I told him.

Patrick chuckled. “Ok, baby, I will keep that in mind,” he said to humor me.

When my husband thought I was asleep, he got out of bed and went to sleep in the guest room. He didn’t want to keep me awake with his coughing fits.

I was not asleep because I was horny and could not sleep. After Patrick left the room, I turned on my back, reached down, and slid my panties off. They were red lacey panties. I spread my legs and started to run my finger up and down my pussy slit. God, my pussy was wet.

I teased my clit and started to masturbate. I started slow by inserting a finger into my wet pussy. I started to fantasize as I masturbated. People may think this odd, but my go-to masturbation fantasy is thinking of my husband.

I imagined my husband’s head between my spread legs and using his mouth and fingers on my pussy. As I fingered myself, I imagined him going down on me (I hate the term “eating out” when it comes to oral sex, so I refrain from using it unless it’s in dialogue).

I started teasing my clit when I imagined my husband using his tongue on my clit, and I started moaning.

“Lick my butthole, baby, I love when you do that,” I said aloud.

As I imagined my husband using his finger on my clit as I was using mine in reality on my clit, I licked the forefinger of my left hand, lifted my legs, and started making circular motions around my butthole. I giggled. Before I met Patrick, I never would have dreamed of touching my butthole.

I never could penetrate my butthole with my finger when I masturbated; I just had a mental block when I came to that, but I could tease it, and it felt good. When I masturbated for Patrick and he would tell me to put a finger in my butt, I could do that, but sol,o I just never could manage it.

Suddenly, my masturbation fantasy changed. I was now sitting in the wing-back chair in our bedroom, and on the bed was my husband. He had his head between another woman’s legs. She was naked but faceless. I couldn’t picture her face. She was moaning and playing with her nipples. I was masturbating while watching my husband with another woman.

I was jealous of what I was picturing, what I was seeing in my mind, but it turned me on as well. I started rubbing my clit harder. I slid my other finger up and inserted one and then a second finger in my wet pussy. I started to finger myself harder as I imagined my husband getting on top of the faceless woman, and he started fucking her. My orgasm came quickly, and I moaned out in ecstasy.

After my orgasm ended, I felt jealous again of what I fantasized about. That was weird, I thought to myself as I pulled my panties up and turned to my side to go to sleep.

My husband, still not feeling well, left the next day. The next few days went by, and Justin was not giving me the attention he used to. He was rarely home. He was spending more time with Amanda and their friends. When he came home, it was always after I was asleep.

I didn’t masturbate because I was afraid of the fantasy I had the last time, and I didn’t want to think about it. I did think about my husband being away and that I was stupid enough to permit him to have sex with another woman. I was sure he was fucking many girls. My husband was so handsome that I knew girls flocked to him.

The thought made me so jealous that I wanted to scream, but it also turned me on. I was so confused by the combination of emotions.

On the following Thursday, after my husband left, I came home from work unexpectedly early and saw Justin’s car in the driveway. I was horny and decided I would confront him and ask why he was ignoring me, and tell him I wanted sex.

I didn’t find him in the living room or anywhere else in the house, and thought he might be in his room in the basement. I saw that the door that led to the basement was not closed all the way. That door was slightly uneven, and to close it all the way, it needed to be pushed hard.

I was going to walk into the basement. It was my house, and I knew Justin would not mind, especially when I told him I wanted him to fuck me. As I walked down the first few steps, I heard his masculine moans of pleasure. I was all too familiar with that sound since I had heard it often with me.

I thought he might be masturbating. I smiled. I would like to watch him for a while and then tell him I could help him finish. I went down a couple of more steps and then sat down on a step so I could see past the staircase wall and into the room.

Justin was not masturbating. He was sitting on the sofa, and between his legs, kneeling on the floor, was Amanda. She was giving him a blowjob.

I knew I should have gotten up and walked away, but I didn’t. I was fascinated by it. Unlike my fantasy about my husband with another woman, I was not jealous watching Justin get his cock sucked by his pretty girlfriend. It turned me on.

My head suddenly turned, and I moved up a step so I could not be seen when I heard another female voice coming out of the bathroom.

“Sorry, I just had to pee badly,” the voice said, and then she giggled.

I saw another girl come into view, and she was wearing nothing but a thong. I knew the girl! Her name was Sarah, and she was maybe a year or two younger than me. I didn’t know her to say she was a friend or even an acquaintance. The truth was I never spoke to her. I just knew who she was.

She lived in the subdivision, a couple of streets over from where I lived. I had seen her at the pool several times and at neighborhood events at the clubhouse. The gossip about her was that after Sarah graduated from college, or left college, no one knew which, she moved back into her parents’ house and got a job as a waitress. She was now living with her grandparents after her parents kicked her out of their house because she was wild and promiscuous.

She was a pretty girl. Sarah was about five feet seven with a thin body, skinny legs, and small breasts. She had freckles on her body and face, and naturally long curly, bright red hair. Sometimes when I saw her at neighborhood parties at the clubhouse, her hair would be straight. I thought she was a very pretty girl, and I liked her long, curly red hair.

But I didn’t care for her because she flaunted her long, skinny body. She wore short skirts or dresses, tight, short shorts, tight jeans, and at the pool she wore what I thought was a much too revealing bathing suit.

Sarah sat down next to Justin, and they immediately started kissing. Amanda took her mouth off the boy’s cock and grinned as she watched Justin’s fingers tease Sarah’s small, perky breasts and long, erect nipples. Amber just watched as her boyfriend kissed and fondled the other girl while she slowly stroked his erect cock. I watched it too.

Now it started to make sense why Justin was not having sex with me anymore. He didn’t need me. He was fucking two girls now!

My body started to respond to what I was watching. My nipples became taut, and my pussy became wet, and I felt the need to have it filled. I was surprised that it was turning me on.

When Patrick and I were in our first year of marriage, I suggested we rent a porn video. This was before porn was available with one click on the internet. We didn’t have internet in our home then. We had a computer, a Tandy bought at Radio Shack. Patrick laughed, but again, he catered to my whim. We rented a porn video at a local video store that had an adult section. We watched one scene, and while I didn’t find it disgusting, it did not arouse me.

But now, watching Justin and the two girls, I was aroused and discovered another fetish. I liked watching someone I was having sex with have sex with other people. Well, at least where Justin was concerned. The thought of my husband having sex with another girl made me jealous, even though I was stupid and told him he could, and visions of him having sex with another woman still haunted my masturbation fantasies.

“A shame Patrick is not here. The four of us could have a lot of fun together,” I heard Sarah say as Justin was kissing her neck and fondling her pink nipples. I frowned in anger that she thought of my husband.

“God, he is so hot,” Amanda piped in.

Justin chuckled. “Yeah, not going to happen. He loves Jennifer too much to cheat on her.” I smiled at that, but go worried the boy may tell the girls he was having sex with me.

“I don’t know about that, I have seen how he looks at me at the pool sometimes,” the redhead said.

“That’s because you flash that camel toe of yours to everyone. It’s hard not to look,” Justin said and laughed.

That was true, and one reason I didn’t like Sarah. When at the pool, she didn’t pull her swimsuit bottoms when they wedged in her pussy, and the outline of her large pussy could be seen. Men would stare at it. Yes, I even caught my husband looking a few times and would have to slap him on the shoulder and call him disgusting.

Sarah and Amanda giggled. “His wife is such a bitch, and I imagine she is such a prude,” Sarah said. I bristled at that.

“She is not a bitch, she is very nice and kind," Justin defended me. I smiled.

Sarah laughed, “You just want to fuck her,” she told the boy.

I started to panic a little because I thought Justin might tell the two girls he had already did fuck me and fucked me a lot. He was a teenage boy, and I know they like to brag.

“She is pretty,” Amanda said, and possibly saved my secret from being revealed.

“Shut up, bitch,” Sarah told Amanda, and I had to suppress a giggle. “Put your mouth to better use.”

Sarah grabbed Amanda with her long, lustrous, black hair. Amanda whimpered as Sarah guided the other girl’s head to her spread legs and pushed Amanda’s head between her thighs. “Eat my pussy like a good little bitch.” I wrinkled my face in disgust. I had no desire to watch two girls have sex.

“She is pretty and has a great body,” Sarah agreed with Amanda, and then she giggled. “I wouldn’t mind making her my bitch,” she added and then ran her fingers through Amand’s hair. “Just like you.” Amanda giggled.

I was about to stand up and leave the basement, but then Justin stood up, his erect penis jutting from his crotch. He kneeled behind Amanda, pulled down her panties, and started fucking her.

As I watched and listened to the two girls’ moans of pleasure, Amanda’s muffled due to her face being buried between Sarah’s legs, and Justin’s masculine grunting moans. I moved to sit on the stairs, spread my legs, and put my hand down my shorts and under my panties. I bit my lip to stifle a moan as I inserted my finger into my wet pussy. I went slowly. I doubted the three could hear me over their moans and grunts of pleasure, but I didn’t want to take the chance.

I tried to focus on Justin fucking Amanda, but my eyes inadvertently kept switching to Sarah and Amanda. Sarah started calling the other girl a whore, a slut, and a bitch. I again had to suppress a giggle. I knew I shouldn’t be watching as long as I was and risk getting caught, but I could not help myself.

“Lick my asshole,” I heard Sarah tell Amanda as she put her long legs up to expose her butthole to the other girl.

While getting fucked from behind, Amanda placed her hands on the red head girl’s skinny butt cheeks and buried her tongue in Sarah’s asshole. Sarah started rubbing her clit and was moaning louder.

I couldn’t take it anymore! I wanted to cum, no, I needed to cum. I knew if I kept watching and made myself orgasm on the stairs, I would risk being caught. Regrettably, I stood up and quickly went to my bedroom.

Once in my room, I took off my clothes and got into bed. I was so aroused and needed to cum so bad that I didn’t waste time teasing myself. I made a loud gasping moan as I slid one finger and then a second finger into my drenched pussy. I then used my other hand to stimulate my clit.

I started replaying in my head what I had seen down in the basement. Justin was getting a blowjob from Amanda as he kissed and fondled Sarah’s freckled, small, perky breasts.

Suddenly, Justin was no longer Justin; it was my beloved husband who was getting a blowjob from the brunette while kissing the pretty redhead and fondling her breasts! I was no longer sitting on the stairs, hiding. I was sitting in the wingback chair in the room.

“No,” I said aloud as I tried to drive the image from my head, but I couldn’t. I was so jealous of my fantasy, but could not help but be turned on by it, and continued to masturbate. “No, please,” I said aloud again as I tried to imagine another scene, but it would not go away!

“She likes watching us,” Sarah told my husband as she looked at me. Patrick looked and me and grinned.

“This is what you wanted, Jennifer,” he told me. “I am going to fuck both of them, and you are going to watch.”

“No…no…I don’t want to,” I said aloud again, but my fantasy self just nodded, unbuttoned her shorts, and slid her hand under her panties. She started rubbing her clit.

Just like down in the basement, Sarah told Amanda to use her mouth on her pussy. Suddenly, Amanda was no longer Amanda, and Sarah was no longer Sarah, and it was me with my face inches from a pussy with neatly trimmed coarse, black pubic hair.

“Eat it, bitch” a beautiful black woman told me. “Make me cum.”

The black woman was named Melissa. Melissa was a female Marine in my husband’s reserve unit. I met her for the first time when I was dating Patrick, and he took me to his weekend reserve duty in the first November we were dating. His reserve unit was celebrating the Marine Corps Birthday on November 10th. It’s a big deal for Marines.

Most of the Marines bought their spouses or dates. Melissa was a sergeant who was on active duty and stationed at the reserve unit as a clerk and aide for the active-duty Marine Captain in command of the reserve station.

I was stunned by her beauty. I thought she should have been modeling for a high-end fashion magazine and not be in the Marines. Why I suddenly started fantasizing about her, I could not explain. Patrick never mentions her; she was married, and she never went with the reserve unit on their two-week active duty in the summer.

“No, I don’t want to,” my reality self said aloud, but I continued to masturbate. I could not help myself.

I lowered my head, stuck my tongue out, and timidly licked Melissa’s pussy. She laughed at me. “Not like that, you stupid bitch, get that tongue all up in my pussy and get a good taste.”

I looked up at my husband for help. He just gave me a stern look and remained silent. When my fantasy self placed her mouth over Melissa’s pussy, I brought my hand to my mouth and started licking my glistening fingers to taste myself, imagining it was Melissa’s pussy I was tasting. Again, I didn’t want to, but I could not prevent myself.

As I was licking my fingers, imagining it was the black girl I was tasting, I had an orgasm. After my orgasm ended, I was still not sated; I wanted more. I inserted my fingers back into my pussy, three of them this time, and kept masturbating.

Melissa grabbed my hair and pulled my head back. “You’re pathetic,” she told me. “You don’t know how to eat pussy for shit.”

“I’m sorry,” my fantasy self told her.

“Just watch me fuck your husband,” she told me and moved to straddle Patrick. She turned her head and looked at me. “I am going to fuck him so much better than you ever have.”

She let out a loud moan as she lowered herself onto my husband’s erect cock. “He has been fucking me for years,” she told me. “His big white cock has been fucking my tight black pussy before he married you.”

I wanted to scream it was not true, but I believed her; not just my fantasy self, but my reality self believed her also. Was that the reason my husband permitted me to fuck Justin? Was he feeling guilty that he was cheating on me? I convinced myself it was. I started to cry due to my jealousy.

Even though I was crying, I kept masturbating and fantasizing about my husband fucking another woman as I watched. I could not stop myself!

Melissa started moving up and down on my husband’s cock. She was moaning from pleasure, as was my husband. She again looked over her shoulder.

“Lick my asshole,” she told me. “Be a good whore and lick my black asshole.”

I whimpered aloud as my fantasy self leaned forward and stuck out my tongue. I ran my tongue up and down her butt crack and over her anus. Melissa giggled.

“Put that tongue up my ass, bitch,” she ordered me. I put my tongue inside her butthole, and Melissa moaned in pleasure.

“He tells me my pussy is so much better than yours,” she continues to taunt me. “He tells me I fuck him better than you do. He tells me he loves me and never should have married you,” she told me cruelly.

My husband continued to remain silent. The man I loved, the man I adored, the man who I could not live without, did nothing to defend me. He let this woman humiliate me. Is that what he thinks of me? I thought to myself as I continued to finger my pussy and play with my clit. Does he see me as a whore and a bitch?

He must! I have been a whore. I was fucking another man; I watched my lover have sex with two girls, and it aroused me. I was just a whore! He didn’t love me as I thought he did.

I cried harder from her cruelty, but it turned me on. Melissa telling me my husband enjoys her body more than mine is horrible to hear, but it aroused me.

Almost sobbing due to my fantasy, I had a second orgasm. I came repeatedly as I imagine my husband fucking Melissa while I have my tongue in her butthole. I climaxed as she taunted me, as I imagine my husband’s cock thrusting in and out of another woman’s pussy.

After my orgasm ended, so did my fantasy. I was satisfied sexually, but still crying over what I imagined. I pulled myself together and got out of bed. I washed my hands, got dressed, and left the house. I couldn't be home when Justin and the two girls were done in the basement. I was not supposed to be home that early, and I couldn't risk them knowing I was home while they were having sex. I decided to go to the batting cages.

As I am at the batting cages, I think about that afternoon. Seeing Justin with Amanda and Sarah, my nightmarish masturbation fantasy, and how much both aroused me. I think about how I took Justin as a lover and how I tried to encourage my husband to have sex with another woman.

Things were out of control in my house. My house has turned into a den of iniquity! It could not continue. After my obscene masturbation fantasy and how it got me off twice, I had a moment of clarity as I was hitting softballs.

I was raised to be a good girl with high morals. I had become immoral, and that needed to change. I was no longer going to have sex with Justin, not that I had been of late. He didn’t need me now that he had two girls he was fucking.

When Patrick came home, we would ask Justin to move out. He could move back in with his mother, who, for some odd reason, never asked him to come home. Or we would help him get a place of his own and help him with the rent since he didn’t make a lot of money in his part-time job.

I would put my house in order, and things would go back to normal. The way things were with just me and my husband. I certainly didn’t need another man to be sexually satisfied. My husband took care of my sexual needs. I decided I was not going to be a whore!