My wife loves to cum. I love making her cum. A match made in heaven. Recently, though, there’s been trouble in paradise. Surgery rid me of cancer but left me with a dysfunctional cock. I could still get her off with my fingers and tongue, and she said it was okay. Not for me. I’d never realized how much I loved the act of fucking her. Ploughing my hard cock into her wet pussy, watching her tits bounce, hearing her gasps and moans, seeing her face flush with pleasure. I missed it, and I knew she did too. I asked why she stayed on the pill when I couldn’t get it up, and she said, “You never know….” That gave me an idea.
We’ve never had what you’d call an open marriage, but a few years ago, my wife did have an online affair. What made it hot instead of threatening was the way she kept me informed at every step. Her virtual sexcapade started with a work assignment to do a project via email with a guy in the midwest. After a few weeks she told me, somewhat sheepishly, that they’d been flirting, and she hadn’t exactly mentioned that she was married. I smiled and shrugged. A week later she said he now knew she was married, but they’d discovered a mutual appreciation of a particular sexual kink, so neither wanted to stop. I smiled again. The next week she asked if I was okay with them doing a virtual hookup session. That meant they’d email back and forth about exactly what they were doing to each other. “Fine with me,” I said. “And in case you’re worried it bothers me….” I held her hand to my crotch so she could feel my raging hardon (those were the days). That weekend she brought me a printout of their session. It turned us both on so much we spent the afternoon fucking our brains out. I figured that, if he got to jerk off over my wife’s emails, no harm done.
Last week, I pulled the printout from the drawer of my bed table (I like to jerk off to it, too) and got his address. I contacted him and explained what was going on and the favor I wanted him to do. I capped it off my offering to buy a plane ticket.
On Friday I was cooking my wife’s favorite dinner and pouring champagne when she got home from work, wearing a constricting, conservative business suit and clunky heels. She ducked into our bedroom and a couple minutes later padded out barefoot in skinny jeans and a flimsy t-shirt with nothing underneath. She sipped champagne as I plated the crab cakes. After we ate, we kissed. Then we sank to the floor, making out. I stripped her t-shirt over her head and sucked on her erect nipples. Rubbing her crotch, I could feel her wetness through the denim. She purred and reached down to unbutton her fly. “Go down on me,” she whispered, urgently.
I suggested we go into the guest room. She looked a little confused but I swiftly helped her up and led her through the door. I stepped aside, revealing her surprise: her email friend stretched out on the bed, naked as a Playgirl centerfold. I watched her face move from surprise to recognition. They hadn’t met but had traded photos. The first ones had been clothed. He’d replied with an admiring comment about her “blue-jeaned ass,” so she sent him another, sans jeans. What could he do but respond in kind? Now she had no trouble placing his gym-toned muscles, curlique tattoos, and healthy-sized cock.
My wife looked at me, questioning. I placed my hand on her famous blue-jeaned ass and walked her over to him. “I love you,” I said as I kissed her. “And you need a cock that works.” I stepped back. He sat up. They kissed. Their hands explored each other’s bodies. He skillfully massaged the muscles of her back, eliciting sighs that sounded as if they were already having sex. She grasped his cock and squeezed. It sprang to life quickly (sigh). He finished unbuttoning her her jeans and slid them down and off. She pumped his cock, causing him to groan. Then she took him into her mouth. I could fully appreciate the smile on his face, having enjoyed her skills so many times.
He laid back. Her moist lips kept working his cock as she climbed onto the bed beside him. He guided her ass onto his face and started eating her pussy. She sucked him noisily. A perfect 69. The were soon both moaning and gasping. Who would cum first was a toss up. Then she took his cock out of her mouth. “I want to feel you inside me.” They flipped over. She spread her legs wide. He stepped up, the tip of his cock just touching her glistening pussy.
“I’m gonna fuck the shit out of you,” he said.
“Yes, fuck me hard,” she replied.
I recognized those two lines from their email. Only this time, instead of his typing “I thrust my hard cock deep into your wet tunnel” and her typing “I gasp as your dick ploughs deeper into me than any man has ever gone,” they simply did it. I watched, entranced, as she writhed on his cock. Everything I’d been missing was on display. Each thrust he launched into her brought a cry or moan or gasp, even the occasional giggle. She wrapped her beautiful legs around him to draw him deeper. Her eyes got wide, then shut tight. Her mouth stretched into in that pre-orgasmic grimace that looks equally like pain and pleasure. She gasped out the words I loved: “So big! So deep!” She wasn’t saying them to me, now, but they still struck me like music that hits you in the gut.
Watching them fuck was the most erotic thing I’ve ever seen. I was deeply turned on, yet my cock got only barely tumescent. Whether I was experiencing pleasure or torture, I still can’t say.
My wife’s face showed only pure bliss. Then she opened her eyes, looking concerned. She craned her head around to meet my fascinated stare. “If we don’t stop right now,” she said, her voice hoarse, words coming in bursts, like a runner pushing her limits, “I’m gonna cum on his fucking cock. Can you deal with that? Can I cum on his fucking cock?”
I smiled. She was caught up in a passion I couldn’t match, but I tried my best. “It’s fucking beautiful. You’re fucking beautiful.”
With that, she slapped his ass loudly, and he kicked his thrusts into higher gear (who knew he had one?). She threw her head back and cried out with a screaming orgasm that racked her whole body. His toes curled and locked together as she clung to him. He could barely move, but he managed a couple of rough hip thrusts that triggered his own orgasm. His ass cheeks squeezed repeatedly as he moaned and pumped what looked like a huge load of cum into her belly.
They stayed like that, sweaty bodies fused, for several minutes. Finally he slid off her. As his dick plopped out, a stream of white cream ran out of her pussy and dribbled down her leg. She stepped over to me in a wobbly gate, steadied herself with her arms around my shoulders, and planted a kiss on my lips. Her tongue explored my mouth as my hand reached into the warmth between her legs. I slid my finger into her sopping pussy, oozing with her cum and his. Finally, she leaned back and caught her breath.
“Babe, you’re the best husband ever,” she said. “I have two questions. For you,” she said, looking at me, “Did you love it?”
The look on my face said everything.
“I can’t tell you how glad I am to know that. So for you,” she said, turning to her friend, “How long can you stay?”