This is our first story and something that we like to role play together in bed, maybe one day we will turn into reality, hope you enjoy as much as we do

The soft chime of the doorbell echoed through the converted garage studio. I pressed the intercom button.

“Come on in, Marcus. Door’s unlocked.”

My wife Lisa sat on the edge of the massage table, barefoot, still wearing her silk robe. She was twisting her wedding ring around her finger, a nervous habit she’d had for fifteen years. The room smelled of eucalyptus and sandalwood, with the faintest undertone of the scented candle flickering on the shelf.

“You sure about this?” she asked, not looking at me.

I settled into the armchair I’d positioned in the corner, directly facing the table. “Only if you are.”

She exhaled slowly. “I’m nervous.”

“That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? To relax.”

Her lips curved into a half-smile. She knew exactly what I meant.

Marcus entered with the quiet confidence of someone who’s been doing this for years. He was tall, maybe six-two, with broad shoulders and the kind of hands that looked like they could handle stone or silk with equal care. Dark hair, close-cropped. Green eyes that scanned the room once, twice, then settled on Lisa.

“You must be Lisa?” His voice was low, measured. “I’m Marcus. Have you ever had a professional massage before?”

“A few times.” She stood, let the robe slip from her shoulders. Underneath, she wore only a thin pair of lace underwear. “But never like this.”

Marcus’s gaze flicked to me for just a moment. I nodded once.

He gestured to the table. “Whenever you’re ready.”

She climbed onto the cushioned surface, arranged the small bolster under her knees, and let her face fall into the cradle. The thin white sheet covered her from the waist down, leaving the long curve of her back exposed.

Marcus warmed oil between his palms. The scent intensified — something floral mixed with the sandalwood. He started at her shoulders, his thumbs pressing in slow circles along the muscle near her neck.

Lisa let out a soft breath. “That’s… good.”

He worked methodically, each stroke deliberate. Down her spine, over the ridges of her ribs, across the dip of her lower back. The sheet shifted as his hands traveled lower, kneading the round of her left hip, then her right.

My fingers itched. I stayed still.

“You carry a lot of tension here,” he said, pressing into a knot near her shoulder blade.

“I work at a desk.”

“Mm. I can tell.” His palms slid down, tracing the outline of her waist. “Your body talks to me. It tells me where you’ve been holding back.”

Lisa’s voice came out thicker. “And where’s that?”

“Everywhere,” Marcus replied 

He moved to her legs, starting at the calves. His hands were warm, insistent. He worked the muscle in long, gliding strokes that crept higher with each pass. Past her knees. Along the underside of her thighs.

Lisa’s breathing changed. Slower. Deeper.

His thumbs brushed the crease where her thigh met her hip. A pause. A deliberate press.

She shifted her hips slightly.

Marcus didn’t pull away. His hands slid upward, one finger hooking the elastic of her underwear and pulling it down just an inch, exposing the top curve of her ass.

“Is this okay?” he asked.

“Yes,” she breathed.

He pulled the lace lower, baring her completely. His hands moved over the bare skin now, cupping the cheeks, spreading them just enough to let the cool air touch her. Lisa’s fingers curled against the table edge.

I shifted in my chair. My hand drifted to my lap.

Marcus’s right hand slid between her thighs. She gasped, her legs parting an inch, then two. His fingers traced the seam of her, slow and exploratory.

“You’re already wet,” he murmured.

“I know,” Lisa replied. “I couldn't help it”

He didn’t rush. He circled her clit with one fingertip, watching the way her back arched, listening to the hitch in her breath. Lias’s hips began to move, a subtle rocking that sought more pressure.

“Lift your hips,” he instructed.

She did. He hooked her underwear and pulled them off entirely, tossing them onto the chair beside him. Then he stepped back. I heard the soft sound of fabric falling — his shirt, then his shorts.

Lisa turned her head to look. Her eyes went wide.

Marcus was already hard, his cock standing thick against his stomach. Long. Heavy. The kind of size that made you understand why some women talked about being “full.”

“Oh,” Lisa said. Just that. One syllable carrying everything.

He stepped closer, took her hand, and guided it to his length. Her fingers wrapped around him, testing the girth, tracing the ridge of the head. A drop of precum slicked her thumb.

“God,” she whispered.

“Touch me,” he said. “Feel what you’re about to take.”

She stroked him slowly, her hand gliding over the shaft. Marcus’s jaw tightened. His hand moved to the back of her head, fingers threading into her hair.

“On your back,” he said.

Lisa rolled over. The sheet fell away. Her breasts were flushed, nipples hard. She spread her legs without being asked, her pussy glistening in the dim light.

Marcus positioned himself between her thighs. The head of his cock pressed against her entrance, not entering, just resting there. Teasing.

“Please,” she said.

“Please what?” Marcus replied

“Please fuck me, I need to feel your cock inside me”

He pushed inside in one smooth motion. Lisa’s back bowed, a sharp cry escaping her lips. “Fuck. Fuck, you’re so big.”

“You can take it.” Marcus whispered 

He pulled out halfway, then drove back in. Her hands flew to his shoulders, nails digging in. The sound of their bodies meeting filled the small room — wet, rhythmic, obscene.

“Oh my God,” she gasped. “Marcus. That’s… you’re splitting me open.”

He set a pace, deep and steady. Each thrust pushed a grunt from her chest. Her legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him deeper.

I unzipped my pants. My hand wrapped around myself, stroking in time with their rhythm. Lisa’s eyes found mine across the room.

“Watch,” she said, her voice strained. “Watch him fuck me, baby. Look at how deep he goes.”

Marcus grabbed her hips, angled her higher. He drove into her from a new angle, and Lisa cried out, her head thrashing against the table.

“Right there. Don’t stop. Don’t you fucking stop.”

He didn’t. He fucked her harder, faster, the slap of skin punctuating every thrust. Her breasts bounced. Her mouth hung open, panting.

“You like watching?” she asked me, her gaze locked on mine. “You like seeing your wife get stretched by a real cock?”

I couldn’t speak. I just nodded, my hand moving faster.

Marcus flipped her over. Lisa got onto her hands and knees, her ass presented high. He entered her from behind with a single brutal push. She screamed into the padded table.

“Yes. Yes, like that. Fill me up.”

His hands gripped her hips hard enough to leave marks. He fucked her with long, pounding strokes, his balls slapping against her clit with each thrust. Lisa’s arms gave out; she collapsed onto the table, her face buried in the cushion, her ass still raised.

“I’m going to come inside you,” Marcus growled.

“Do it. Come in me. I want to feel it, I need your cum inside me”

He drove deep, held, and groaned. His body shuddered against hers. Lisa moaned, a long, satisfied sound.

When he pulled out, his cum trickled down her thigh. She didn’t move. She just lay there, panting, her body twitching.

Marcus stepped back. His chest was slick with sweat.

Lisa lifted her head and rolled onto her back. “Baby. Come here.”

I stood, walked to the table, hoping it was my turn to fuck my wife. She reached for me, pulling me down to her level.

“Clean me up,” she whispered. “Taste what he left in me.”

I was shocked and confused, but couldn’t help but obey my gorgeous wife. I lowered my mouth to her thigh, tracing the line of cum with my tongue. She shivered. I moved higher, parting her folds, tasting the mixture of them both. She was swollen, sensitive. Her hand fisted in my hair.

“That’s it,” she breathed. “Lick me clean.”

I buried my face in her, lapping at her clit, at the evidence of what she’d done. Her hips bucked against my mouth.

I lifted my head, Marcus, still standing by the table, his cock thick and straining, glistening with arousal. Lisa moved her head towards his cock, wrapping her hands around his shaft, pulling him towards her lips, teasing the head of his big cock with her tongue, then slowly taking him deep into her throat, taking him deeper with each movement.

“Your mouth feels so good around my cock. If you don’t stop, I’m going to cum in your mouth, and I need to fuck your tight pussy again,” Marcus said.

Her eyes were locked on mine as she sucked him, a low moan vibrating around his shaft. She pulled off with a wet pop, a string of saliva connecting her lips to his tip. “You like cleaning his mess and tasting our cum didn’t you?” she breathed, her voice husky., I couldn’t help but nod my head “Now watch me take his cock properly.”

Before I could even process what was happening, she slid off the table and grabbed my shoulders, pushing me onto my back on the plush rug beneath us. The world tilted—I was staring up at the ceiling, the candles casting dancing shadows across my skin. Lisa straddled my face, her thighs pressing against my ears, her slick warmth descending over my mouth. Her scent flooded my senses as she ground against me, and I obeyed her unspoken command, my tongue diving into her folds, lapping at the mixture of Marcus’s cum and her own arousal.

She let out a sharp gasp as my tongue found her clit, rolling it in lazy circles. But then she tilted her hips back, arching herself toward Marcus. I heard his low chuckle from behind her, and then—slowly, impossibly—I watched the crown of his cock press against her entrance, stretching her open with agonizing deliberation. Lisa’s moan turned into a cry as he sank deeper, her body shuddering above me, her wet heat pressing harder against my face.

“Fuck,” she gasped, grinding down on my tongue before pushing her hips back, taking him deeper. “Yes, right there.”

I couldn’t help but angle my eyes upward. From my position, I had the perfect view: Marcus’s thick cock sliding in and out of her, glistening with her wetness, each stroke slow and deliberate as he began to thrust. Lisa’s fingers dug into the rug, her head thrown back as she rode his rhythm.

“Taste me on him, baby,” she urged, reaching behind herself to spread her cheeks wide as Marcus pounded into her. She shifted, giving me a clear view of where they were joined, and I obeyed without thinking—raising my head just enough to let my tongue meet the slick base of his cock as it pulled out, then pressing against her stretched opening as he pushed back in. The taste was overwhelming: salt, musk, her sweetness mixed with his. It should have been too much. Instead, I found myself wanting more.

“Harder,” Lisa commanded, her voice rising. “Fuck me with that big cock, Marcus. Fucking fill my married wet pussy whilst my husband licks your cock and my pussy”

He obliged, his thrusts growing faster, sloppier, the wet sounds of their fucking filling the room. Lisa’s body was trembling now, her walls clenching around him as she neared her peak. I licked and sucked at every inch of him she offered, my own cock hard and throbbing against my stomach, ignored.

I watched his rhythm falter, his hips stutter, and then he groaned, burying himself deep. Lisa felt it—the heat of his release flooding her—and she cried out, her own orgasm ripping through her as she came around him. For a moment, nothing but ragged breathing filled the room.

Marcus pulled out with a wet sound, his softening cock glistening, a milky drip following, landing on my open lips. Lisa slid off my face and turned, her eyes drunk with pleasure. “Clean us up,” she demanded, gesturing between herself and the masseuse’s still-dripping shaft.

I knelt there, heart pounding, and leaned forward. My tongue traced the length of Marcus’s cock first, tasting his cum fresh on his skin—the flavor stronger now, musky and bitter. It should have repulsed me. Instead, a strange heat curled in my stomach as I savored it. Then I turned to Lisa, pressing my mouth to her folds, drinking the mix of them directly from her. She moaned, threading her fingers through my hair, and I feasted until she pulled me away.

“Now,” she whispered, pulling me on top of her. “You’re going to fuck me, but you won’t last long.” She smiled, a cruel glint in her eye. “You know, and I know, that I’m going to be back here for his cock again.”

She was right. As I slid into her, still warm and filled from Marcus, the sensation was overwhelming. Her pussy gripped me tight, but her words were in my ear.

“He feels so much better than you, so much bigger--”

Three strokes.

“He made me cum so hard on his giant cock.”

Four, and I was gone, spilling inside her with a shuddering groan.

“We’ll be doing this again,” she murmured, her chest heaving. “With him.”