She looks up and catches me watching. Pam fastens the last clip to the top of her stocking, the final clasp on the six-drop suspender belt she’s chosen especially for the occasion. My wife throws me a watery grin and sits down so she can slip on her shoes, patent black with lethal heels, pointy-toed shoes so shiny I could see my reflection if I got down on my knees to kiss my wife’s feet.
I see her hands tremble and ask, “You all right about this?”
“God yes,” she replies, swivelling while spreading her legs. “Look,” says my wife, splaying her labia. “I’m soaking. I’m wet just thinking about it.”
There’s a strange twist in my guts when I see Pam’s arousal. My wife’s pussy glistens with need, her core scarlet with lust. She’s swollen down there, ready for her stud, labia pouting when Pam’s hand pulls away.
My cock uncurls at the sight of my beautiful wife in the middle of her preparations. Anticipation curdles my guts and my insides churn while swirling, corrosive jealousy, with its copper taste, rises like gorge because of what’s coming. Love for her balloons in my chest, the emotion lodged there as I wonder why I let her do it. There are always doubts at moments like this. Sometimes I can’t stand it when I think of my wife fucking other men, but mostly I love it. Occasionally, especially when I see her getting ready, my lovely Pam taking care with her hair and her make-up for the benefit of another man and the hard cock he’ll give her, when I think of her moaning for him to fill her with meat, I’m almost overwhelmed by a desire to scratch and to bite and to punch. There are times I’m pig sick at the thought of someone else flooding her pussy with his seed, especially when she moans about putting a baby inside her.
But that’s only before her lover arrives. When it’s going on and I’m watching, when I’m looking at her face and witnessing her absolute pleasure, I’m glad I can do this one thing to bring my wife the delight I want her to have.
“You’re gorgeous,” I breathe. I mean it as well. I think my wide is truly stunning with hair newly dyed platinum blonde. She’s in her Axford underbust corset, the one in black and white which gives her already tremendous bosom even more lift. Pam’s tanned from the sunbed and toned from the gym, and if I didn’t know better I’d put her age at mid- to late-thirties rather than her true fifty-five.
My wife’s eyes catch mine as she looks at me from inside the mirror. “Thank you,” she purrs as she lifts drop earrings to her lobe, the collection of silver bangles, thirty-two of them in all – one for each year we’ve been married – jangling on her wrist. “Thank you for letting me do this.”
The thanks has become somewhat of a ritual. Every time we find ourselves on the cusp of an adventure she says thanks for letting her do it.
As if I’d say no.
I tell her, “I love watching you, Pam,” my cock seeping pre-cum. I think time must be getting on so I look at my watch, insides flipping when I see his arrival is imminent. I gulp and close off the ritual by adding, “I love you, Pam. It’s just for us, isn’t it? The love. You can fuck as many men as you want, but the love is for us.”
She nods and rises and walks slowly towards me, letting me appreciate the full power of her sexual allure., full-breasted, yet slim where it counts, long legs made even longer because of the heels.
“Our love,” murmurs my wife, presenting her cheek for my kiss. “God, I’m so horny,” she breathes when I gently press my lips to her skin.
I catch a waft of her scent and my cock pulses in Pavlovian response. It’s the same perfume she always wears for her lovers – her ‘fuck-scent’ I call it in secret. “He’ll be here soon,” I tell Pam, a catch in my voice. “I’d better go down ready for when he gets here. Will you be long?”
Pam shakes her head. “I’ll just finish my hair and my make-up.” She struts away, hips rolling, her jiggling buttocks piercing my chest with another spike of jealousy as I imagine the man’s hands grasping that flesh.
My wife returns to her seat and casts a critical eye into the mirror. She teases loose tendrils of blonde down at her temples, ignoring me while focusing on her appearance, turning her face this-way-and-that, pouting like she’s taking a selfie.
And I have plenty of those images stored on my phone, a pictorial record of cuckolding sleaze from Pam’s solo excursions out on the pull. That’s all part of the deal as far as I’m concerned. I take pictures of my wife dressed up for a night out, then sit in and wait for my mobile to ping. I’ll read the texts for a chronological account of her night, which are often accompanied by pictures she’s taken herself, or when it really heats up there’ll be action sent to me by her lover of the night, from his point-of-view: my pretty wife’s face distorted by cock, or her pussy stretched round another man’s girth. Although Pam knows I don’t really like her fucking bareback, there will occasionally be a picture of her cunt oozing cum, with an accompanying text apologising for her lack of restraint.
“When they’re well built, I just can’t stop myself doing it,” Pam will murmur to me when she’s back in our bed. She’ll come home to me reeking of sex, dried semen caked to her skin, hair matted with jizm. If she’s been barebacking her date I’ll fuck into the mess and mix it all up, dumping my anguish into my wife while she tells me about what she’s done.
After that we’ll kiss and mumble endearments ‘til we drift off to sleep. The next morning we’ll wake up and be a married couple once again. If it’s a Sunday we’ll do humdrum things like visit a garden centre or take a drive to Ikea for the candles Pam loves to see lighting up the house during the cold winter months.
And that’s part of the lure of this lifestyle as well. I’m fascinated at the transformation – how my wife can slip from her ordinary life to consummate slut in the space of a few hours. To see her during the week my Pam isn’t out of place strolling through town. She’ll get a few looks from admiring men because she’s blonde and pretty and takes very good care of her figure. And Pam ignores it most of the time, there have been a couple of casual pick-ups when some beautiful boy catches her focus, but usually she pretends to be oblivious, going about her business as though she’s completely unaware.
Then, when we’ve made a date and she’s getting ready to go out – or stay in or visit a hotel, whatever we’ve arranged – the excitement gets to us both. I’ll get that loose slide in my guts, anxious anticipation at what my wife is about to do while Pam’s pussy sluices and she gets all jittery with nerves.
Which is the point we’re at now as my wife checks her look in the mirror. It’s one of the most exquisite moments, this few minutes before I hand my wife over to yet another man. I wonder if she’ll still love me tomorrow, if she’ll be happy to revert to normality or whether this time she’ll fall for the big-dicked young stud she’s arranged to visit our home.
In this crisis of confidence, I think to tell her she’s perfect just as she is, with her hair piled up and pinned, mussed like she’s already been fucking, her make-up a subtle understatement.
I want to tell her I love her, and I’m just about to open my mouth when the doorbell chimes tinkle up to the bedroom from the floor below.
Oh God, I think to myself. He’s here…
The first thing to register, after I’ve opened the door to the young man, is how nervous he is. He’s wearing a suit at the request of my wife – one I’ve probably paid for. I notice he’s tall and wide across the shoulders, his build suggestive of a muscled physique. I know he’s quite young, only twenty-two, and his inexperience of the situation is showing. The boy’s anxious and nervy, that much is obvious, and his wide-eyed expression and inability to look me in the eye during our handshake reverses the drain of my confidence. He’s quite a big lad, his fitness well apparent, but I feel like I’m the top dog in this little scene. He’s here because Pam wants one with size and power and youth. My wife’s mood this time is for a much younger man. She wants a vigorous lover to satisfy her physical needs, and I’m normally a secondary player during the times she wants a bull at her cunt. I’m there to witness Pam’s pleasure, it’s all about spoiling my wife and I’m occasionally humiliated because of their size or the way they make my wife squeal. But at the moment I’m happy to use the fact this boy is out of his comfort zone. It’s a psychological advantage I’ll exploit.
I invite Michael in and suggest he might like a drink. I say, “You seem a little on edge,” and he nods, his eyes going everywhere as he takes in the size and opulence of our humble abode.
When I see him gawping I can’t help but feel smug. My wife might come on your dick, I think as I study Michael’s face. But she loves me and the material things I can buy her. You might have the looks and the body, and you’re bound to be hung like a horse, but she’ll stay with me when you’ve gone. You’re here as her plaything.
We go through to the orgy room, a lounge room Pam has set out with sleek, clean-lined contemporary furniture. There’s a blonde wood floor, pock-marked with the history of my wife’s high-heeled shoes and marked with the occasional stain from a stray spurt of cum. We only use this room for her special receptions and have no concerns over DNA being spilled on the leather chairs or the sofas.
“Nice place,” says Michael, with a slight warble.
I smile and nod and say, “Thanks. We’ve got it just how we like it.”
“How many bedrooms?” he asks.
“Seven, with one set aside for special occasions, which you might get to see.” I shrug and add, “It depends on my wife.”
His throat works when I specifically mention Pam is my wife. I have no idea what’s going on inside his head, Pam gives me no backstory to any of her ‘finds’, but it seems like this one is a little out of his depth.
The boy gulps and his eyes slide over my face. Michael’s attention is everywhere else but he won’t make eye contact with me. “Uh … Where is she?” he asks.
“Upstairs getting ready.” I watch for his reaction and then tweak him a bit. “She’s very excited,” I tell him, my cock pulsing with life when the memory of Pam’s sluicing pussy flicks over my mind’s eye. “Wait until you see what she’s wearing. I think you’re going to appreciate the effort she’s made.”
The muscles bunch in his jaw. “She-uh-she’s very attractive.”
I nod in agreement and indicate one of the chairs with the flat of a hand. “What about that drink?”
Michael sits and opts for a beer after I go through the list. “A fridge?” he says in astonishment when I go to a cabinet and open the door.
“Everything you’ll need is right here in this room. Except for Pamela, of course … But I’m sure she’ll be down in a moment or two.”
He nods and takes the bottle from my hand, shaking his head when I offer him a glass.
Silence stretches between us. Michael sips at the beer while I watch him. I’m happy for the tension to build; him being awkward and wrong-footed works for me.
“Do you … erm…?” he begins, still avoiding my eyes.
I blink and frown and tell him to go on.
“Well,” he says, “you know … Do you stay here when she comes down?” Michael swallows again. “Are you here when…?”
From the opposite chair I shrug and say, “It depends on my wife. She might want me to stay or she might prefer it if I leave you alone.”
He looks directly at me, his stare staying fixed on my face for the first time. “So you don’t get involved?”
“Again, it’s all down to Pam.”
“What is?” I hear my wife ask.
And before I turn to face the door I take a moment to assess Michael’s reaction, the jealousy curdling my insides when I see surprise turn to hunger.
It’s one of those moments when the reality hits me full-on. Of course I knew all along why Michael was here, but seeing him devour my wife with his gaze reminds me my Pam is going to suck his cock and take it into her pussy. I get the distinct impression from seeing Pam’s own need in the slant of her smirk and the sly cast to her eyes that she’s going to take this one bareback.
Michael will leave us at some point, and there’s no telling just when that might be. Pam could lose interest after an hour or she might want him for the entire weekend. But, one thing is fixed as a certainty in my mind right from the start. I know he’ll leave Pam with his seed in her belly.
My wife enters the room, owning it with her carnal allure. Her shoes peck at the floor as she goes straight to the boy, ignoring my presence completely.
Pam doesn’t need an answer to her question. In fact she’s probably forgotten she asked in the first place.
“Stand up,” she says to the young man sat in the chair, his jaw slack as he takes in her presence. My wife throws me a calculated look before whispering, “Stand up and kiss me … I love to kiss men in front of my husband.
Pam comes in wearing an elegant gown. It’s long, the hem brushing the floor, long sleeves fitted tight to her arms with flaring cuffs in a bohemian style, decadent and daring because of a single tie just beneath her breasts. The gown covers my wife from neck to foot, yet allows tantalising glimpses of her big boobs and depilated mons when she moves. Her stockings and six-drop fash into view as she slinks towards Michael. Pam’s provocative dress has the boy gaping, and she’s such an elegant slut I’m bone hard for her, too.
She extends a hand towards Michael, a regal gesture, a queen to her courtier. He rises slowly while my wife takes the bottle from his hand. She holds the beer out for me to take from her and reaches up with her free hand to curl her fingers around Michael’s neck at the nape. Even though my wife is in heels, the boy is still three or four inches taller than she, so she goes up on tip toe while pulling him down to her mouth for their first kiss.
I take the bottle and listen to Pam’s satisfied moan, the slick sound of their tongues slipping and sliding coming to me as I move away to put it down on top of the cabinet it came out of.
Pam’s arms are draped round his neck while Michael’s fingers encompass her waist. He’s such a large specimen his thumbs almost meet near my wife’s navel, and I wonder if he’s in proportion down below – which is a ridiculous thought since he wouldn’t be here if Pam hadn’t been assured of his credentials.
When they kiss it’s surprisingly slow, almost tender – the sort of kiss I should be savouring with my wife, rather than her enjoying the moment with a man she’s literally only just met.
“Mmm,” Pamela breathes when they eventually part. “That’s nice.” She grins at the young man and tilts her head to one side. “Get me a drink,” she commands while keeping her attention fixed on her new lover. She’s talking to me, and I get right to the task. I’m on my way when I hear Pam murmur, “I don’t want to wait. Why don’t you undress?” I don’t know for certain, but get the impression Michael has thrown a concerned look at my back. He must have done something to indicate his given some indication being anxious about my presence because I hear my way say, “Don’t worry about him, forget about my husband, he’s not even here. You just concentrate on looking after me. Here,” she continues while I pour gin into a tall glass. “Perhaps this will keep your mind focussed.”
I want to turn and see what she’s up to, but I think I can guess. I’m desperate to see, yet remain fixed to the job of mixing my wife’s drink.
There’s an appreciative mumble from Michael, and when I turn I find Pam has slipped out of the robe. I pause for a moment to take in the sight of my wife posing with her hands on her hips. I think she’s magnificent in her bordello apparel, an Amazon hungry for sex with her hot-eyed gaze and vulpine smirk. I know any nerves Pam may have had have vanished. Now it’s on her, she’s in her true element. My wife, so sensible and prim during the week, has slipped off the cloak of respectability as well the gown covering her dishabille.
“Get out of that suit,” growls Pam, with a nod towards Michael. “I’m too fucking horny to play games. Let’s not waste time, darling, take off your clothes. Then come over here and sit down with me. We can kiss and I’ll stroke your big cock.”
Pam strides to the sofa and settles down on it. She pats the leather and throws a smirk at the boy while adding, “Then you can return the compliment and lick my cunt ‘til I come.”
The everyday Pam would never think to use the obscenity, but to her slutty alter-ego coarse language, just like her body and the shoes, are used to shock and arouse. The profanity comes out of her with delicate elocution perfumed shit, and you’d never expect Pam to utter such filth. But I know she’s being vocal for my benefit. My wife lays it on thick when she gets going, giving me chapter and verse about all that she’s feeling when she’s enjoying a lover and I look on.
I go to my wife and pass her the glass. Ice tinkles when she takes a delicate sip, her eyes set on Michael who’s only just starting to unfasten his tie.
“Hurry,” says Pam while ignoring my presence. “I’m too hot to wait for long. My pussy’s hungry for some lovely hard cock.”
And it looks like she’s going to get exactly what she wants when I see Michael’s thick length waggle and wave when he slips out of his trousers.
“Good God, just look at that,” Pamela gasps when she sees what’s on offer. “That’s a gorgeous cock, you lovely young man.”
I have to admit I’m more than impressed by Michael’s appendage. He’s long and thick and very excited to be here. His cock could qualify as a weapon it’s so brutally huge, the shaft ridged with veiny protrusions, its girth the size of an oak tree with the head of the thing the size of my fist.
The jealousy rises again, and it feels like my insides are turning inside out when I think of him using that magnificent cock on my wife.
I also have a sneaking suspicion he’s going to be with us until Sunday at least. I doubt Pam will let the boy go until she’s too battered to take any more. There’s a great chance I’ll be sleeping alone for one or two nights. It looks to me like Pam will take her lover to bed in the playroom just along the hall from our marital bed where she’ll suck him and fuck him and have him slurp at her sex.
I know from experience I’ll be able to hear them both fucking, and I’m already savouring the pleasure of listening while fisting my dick.
Pam holds the glass in one outstretched hand, red-painted nails shining in the subdued light from the overhead fixture. Her wedding band glints while the big stones in her engagement ring sparkle, the gem-stone encrusted eternity ring glistening as well, each spark from the jewellery sizzling against my consciousness, a reminder this is my wife as she holds Michael and examines his cock at close range. He stands in front of her, totally nude, his jib a proud jut.
“This is what I call an absolutely superb example of cock,” my wife says, smirking while glancing at me. “You see this?” she says, jacking its length. “This is what a girl really needs.”
Then Michael groans when Pam’s lips purse round his knob-end.
All I can do is look on while my wife struggles to accommodate the boy with her mouth. I’m powerless, a slave to the dark emotion slithering inside me. I hate it, yet can’t stop myself from loving the scene: my wife with that huge thing stretching her lips.
I take the glass out of her hand and then sit down to watch when she goes to it, the young man moaning when she licks him from the crown of his knob to his balls.
She sucks him, going at Michael with such enthusiasm I know she’s laying it on for my benefit. Pam catches my eye and grins as best she can, which isn’t easy considering she’s trying to control the boy’s vigorous thrusting. Michael is trying to fuck my wife’s gullet while Pam holds him with both hands, his cock slimy with drool.
She works Michael’s length and spits on the cock-head, then gets right back to it, moaning and grunting to tease me some more.
It goes on for some time. Michael’s buttocks bunch and flex, and I’m sure he’s about to explode. He’s whining and gasping and telling Pam how sexy she is. The boy heaps praise on my wife by telling her she’s gorgeous and sexy and how he loves her dressed up in the corset and stockings. He’s very appreciative about Pam’s figure, with her responding by flattering him on the size of his dick.
Eventually Pam comes off the cock. A silver hawser of drool connects them when my wife eases back, the fragile thread snapping as she grins up at her lover.
Wiping the back of a hand over her chin, Pam then leans back and folds her legs at the knees. She shunts her arse over the precipice while also angling her pelvis so her cunt is angled towards her lover.
When my wife whimpers at him, Michael stares for a moment or two, then falls to his knees to lick her.
Pam groans and catches my eye once again. She mouths I love you before wincing and grabbing Michael’s head. My wife blurts out a sob and whines about the boy’s tongue on her clit. She sucks in air, stroking Michael’s hair while babbling about her pussy and clit and how she wants to feel his fingers inside her.
And I sit, transfixed by the sights and sounds. I’m a voyeur, cast aside and forgotten by a wife who’s gaze is set on her lover, a spouse who mumbles at Michael to come up to kiss her mouth.
“Let me taste myself on your tongue,” groans Pam.
There’s all sorts of shifting around while they stay locked at the lips. Limbs get rearranged to Pam’s liking. My wife makes herself as the boy clambers onto the sofa. He’s got one knee on the cushion and one foot on the floor. His hands are all over my wife. Michael’s palms glide over Pamela’s skin. He squeezes her breasts and ducks in to suck at her nipples, her low moan a barometer of how much she’s enjoying the attention.
“Do you want to put it inside me?” asks Pam.
Her hand is already between them, her fingers seeking his length.
I gulp, knowing this is the moment. It’s happening again: my wife with another man’s cock where it has no right to be.
Pam finds the shaft. She pulls on it a few times, her action closing Michael’s eyes and bringing a groan from the boy.
“Just for a few strokes,” teases my wife, boosting her arse forward so she can rub the cock-end through labia gooey with need. “Then I want you to lick me to orgasm. Finger my pussy ‘til I come.
“…After that, you can fuck me.”
Pam grunts, back arching while she sucks on her bottom lip, her body taking half the cock at first try.
“God,” grunts Michael, “that’s hot.”
“And you’re huge,” squeaks my wife, her face split by a grin. “Easy, go gentle, feed it in slow.”
I quietly move so I can see it go in. I’m at the end of the settee, stood by the arm, the sight of Michael stretching Pam’s flesh a knife in my guts.
Pam snorts and grabs for a handhold, her fingers curling around the thick muscles of the boy’s upper arms. She opens her legs to allow more of him in, the thick pole sliding into her body until his balls touch Pam at the crease of her buttocks.
I groan when I see the slow outslide, with Pam’s flesh bulging, the delicate membrane distorted because of the lump of male gristle lodged in her cunt.
It’s agony for me when I hear the liquid squelch of Pam accepting the length one more time. Michael pushes back in and leans in low at Pamela’s behest. Then, while they kiss, their rhythm takes hold.
And the next thing I know is they’re rutting in earnest. A few strokes have turned into a very robust fuck. Pam’s shoes waggle while their bodies collide. My wife squeals and yelps and cries out with pleasure while the boy goes at her with bestial grunts.
“Don’t come,” urges my wife. “Not yet … Not inside me … I don’t want your spunk until I’ve had you all night.”
It’s the pivotal moment I realise Pam has let Michael at her with no condom, that he’s barebacking my wife. It’s the clash of emotions inside me again. Seeing them together with no barrier at all squeezes me tight. I hate it when Pam lets them have her this way. It’s too close, too personal, a threat to our marriage.
But what really wrings out my heart is the sight of them kissing and hearing my wife breathing endearments.
Michael pulls away and goes up on straight arms, his ball-bag bouncing off Pamela’s arse while she murmurs about him loving her with his long cock.
“Gorgeous,” she groans, her hips working while a hand slips down to her mons. Pam fingers her bean and grunts, “Just a bit longer. Fuck me some more and then, please, lick me again.”
Pam comes on his tongue. Michael has two fingers inside her as she judders and groans. My wife squeals and yelps and writhes, her energy and delight boiling the jealousy inside me.
But it only gets worse. I’m sitting next to them by now. I’m on the settee with the pair – Michael kneeling half-on and half-off, his body alongside my wife while he carries on working her insides with his fingers. Eventually, Pam opens her eyes. She’s breathless, sucking in air while looking around in a daze. Her glazed look clears and she fixes me with an ambiguous look, and I can’t figure out if she loves me or loathes me.
“Oh God,” Pamela sighs, rolling her eyes. “That was so bloody lovely.” Her eyes slide from me as she smirks at her lover. “You’re so fucking gorgeous,” she tells him before squirming in for a kiss.
Their tongues slide and dance, the intimacy grinding my soul.
Then Pam puts the boot in by whispering, “Now, how about a nice little fuck?” She grabs for the cock and levers upright, breasts swaying. I have half a mind to lunge for those shivering orbs. It’s almost overwhelming, this desire to maul my wife’s flesh. It would be so sweet to suck at her tits while she rides up and down on my cock. I could listen to her groan and slip my tongue in her mouth. I could feel her cunt tight and wet on my dick and fill her with cum.
My jizm inside my wife would be a mark of my territory, a claim to her love.
But it isn’t me she wants filling her pussy. My wife only has eyes for her lover. It’s his cock she needs, his semen she craves – I’m only there to keep her amused. I can fetch and carry and watch it go on, but I can’t get involved.
Not unless she invites me to play.
So, there she is, riding that towering pole. My wife holds onto the upright back of the sofa, buttocks rippling in response to her vigorous bouncing. Pamela’s tits slap the boy’s face until he grabs for them both, her squeaks of delight telling me she’s enjoying herself.
It takes me a second to realise she’s mumbling at me. I’ve been so absorbed by seeing Pam taking all of that length I didn’t know she was talking to me.
“Young men … Hard cock,” she mutters, a glazed look fixed on my face. “I love fucking them,” she groans. “He’s so big and so fucking stiff. I love it. It feels so bloody lovely.” My wife winces, then smirks, then finally lets out a low moan. “I’m going to come,” she informs me. “Oh fuck, I’m going to come.”
I scramble out of the seat when she beckons to me. Pam waves me to her with the curl of one arm. “Kiss me,” she gurgles, eyelids fluttering. “Kiss me when I come…”
He dumps the first load onto Pam’s breasts. My wife had ridden his cock ‘til she came, she grunted and swore into my mouth, her tongue sliding and writhing with mine while Pam ground down onto Michael’s length, her orgasm rocking us both. She hung onto my neck and sobbed her delight, then leapt off Michael’s lap and gommed at his cock.
At first, Pam sucked and slobbered and wanked at it while standing, her legs locked at the knees. She leaned in and cranked at the boy, muttering about cum and how she wanted to see the stuff pump out of his dick.
I went to her, twisting up off the sofa until I could cup her buttocks in my palms, a daring action which could have had dire consequences for me. I might have been summarily banished from the room, but the gods of libido must have been smiling. All my wife does, when I knead at her flesh, is purr at me to finger her slot.
We go on this way for some time, with me fucking two stiff digits into Pam’s cunt as wet slurping sounds of her sucking comes up to my ears. My wife sucks at the boy, smacking her lips off his bell-end as she raves on about wanting to see the cum spurt. She cranks at his cock and mumbles profanities before sinking onto her knees.
Pam’s hand works in a blur. She then uses both to massage the length, enveloping the shaft with her breasts so the boy can fuck at her tits.
At her signal, I drop alongside Pam while she grins at Michael and asks, “Are you going to come?” She smirks at jacks at his dick. “It feels like you are. It’s throbbing … So stiff…”
My wife keeps on tugging, relentless.
“Do it whenever you want,” she purrs to her lover. “I don’t mind. I’m sure you can get hard again soon.”
He’s groaning and gulping, wide-eyed as he gawps at my wife. “You’re so fucking hot,” the boy gasps, hips bucking. “Pam, I’m…” he manages to croak a burst of goo flicking up from the eye of his cock.
Pam blurts a laugh and leans in to take the stuff all over her chest. Michael grunts and snorts and digs his nails into the sofa, semen pouring out of his dick.
She crows, “God yes!” and rubs the bel-end over her tits, ejaculate still spitting.
Semen cascades over the slopes of Pam’s breasts, blobs of the stuff glistening on the contrast of skin, the pale flesh smeared where her bikini has covered her body, a pearl necklace of cum decorating her throat, spunk sliding down the tanned flanks of her tits.
My wife takes the final outpouring by pursing her lips round the cockhead, the dome swollen with Michael’s desire.
Cum cascades over her chin when she challenges me with her stare. “Is this it?” she taunts me, smearing cum over her breasts. “Is this how you like seeing me?”
Then we’re kissing, with Pamela moaning she loves me.
He fucks into her while spooning behind her. Pam lies on her side, her weight resting on one hip as she tries to lift up on one elbow. But her arm is caught under her body. Pam’s tits wobble and shiver while she holds onto one breast and the boy goes at her rough from behind.
“He’s fucking me,” she squeaks, a glazed look holding my stare. “I’m letting him fuck me,” she moans. “You’re watching him fucking your wife…”
I take hold of her fingers when Pam reaches out with one hand. She gazes into my eyes, her attention all vague while she gasps and sighs at the pleasure she’s feeling, all of it coming from the boy with his meat in her pussy.
I sit there as though I’m comforting my wife through some crisis, which I am in a way because she’s about to come hard.
“He’s naked inside me,” Pamela gulps. She fixes me with an expression which suggests she’s suddenly surprised to find herself on the sofa with a young man’s cock in her body. My wife blinks, her countenance twisted with lust as she breathes, “He’s so big in my cunny … All bare … If he comes now it’ll be his spunk in my pussy.”
After gurgling all that, Pam swivels to confront Michael behind her.
She glares at him while spitting, “Will you fuck your spunk into my cunt?” Pam claws at the boy, head lolling as her climax takes hold.
My wife judders and grunts before a potty-mouthed stream pours out of her mouth, all of it centred on the boy’s seed squirting inside her.
“If only,” Pam gasps, her fantasy taking control as it does when she’s barebacking strangers. She pauses and gulps, eyes closing. “If only you’d known me before. You could fuck me and fill me with cum. You could put a baby inside me … Your love in my pussy…”
Pam whines and whimpers and fucks back onto Michael.
“Let it go,” she squeals. “Fill me with love.”
Her use of the word sends a brick of foreboding plummeting into the pit of my stomach. Pam writhes and squirms and mauls at her breasts, flesh at her hips trembling as she strives in desperation to take as much of Michael into her body as she can possibly take.
“Deep,” mumbles Pam. “Squirt it in deep.”
And then I look on in horror when the boy blurts out he’s coming.
Oh God, the agony I feel knowing he’s flooding Pam’s womb with his goo. I know it’s impossible but I still feel a spike of despair at the thought of him impregnating my wife.
But, if I’m so appalled and upset, why is my cock stiff with arousal? Why is the front of my trousers sticky with pre-cum?
Then I’m down between Pam’s legs, licking her from anus to clit. I look up to see she’s got jizm plastered all over her boobs and her face, her lips stretched around Michael, his girth a little diminished from coming twice on the bounce.
Pam sees me looking and pushes me away, the cock springing from her mouth before she tells me to get her a fresh drink. My wife tilts her head at her lover and asks, “Would you like a drink, too? Just say and he’ll fetch it.”
When I return with a beer, they’re sat on the sofa, my wife entwined with her lover.
She says, “I’ll have a gin. Bring it upstairs.”
I find them in Pam’s playroom. Pam take’s the glass and dismisses me with an imperious wave of her fingers. “I’ll call you if I want you for anything,” she says. “You can go now,” she adds with a smirk, twisting the blade as she says, “But no wanking your cock … Or if you do, don’t come. Who knows, I might let you stir this gorgeous stud’s spunk when I’ve drained his balls dry.
“…But it might take me all night.”