My Twisted Little Kink

I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Most guys fantasize about two girls at once. I fantasize about my girl taking on more than one guy. I guess I was spoiled by the former fantasy first. Why the hell not? Once girls hear about salary potentials the likes of Alex Rodriguez and Derek Jeter, most are prone to do any freaky thing a rising baseball star throws at them, particularly one poise to eventually take his place in the Hall of Fame. Maybe I reached my zenith too soon. Maybe I thirsted for a new mountain to climb, seeing there aren’t many places to go from there. Or maybe I stumbled upon my truest taboo after I was set up by my evil ex on her quest to seek carnal revenge.

I remember it like it was yesterday. I’d come home early from a minor league game, plopped down on the couch, and pulled my blonde bombshell right under my arm for a night of good wholesome porn. Her hand was already down in my pants when we heard the racket of aluminum trashcans in the backyard of the house we were renting. I got up to check to see if a raccoon or a dog got into it again, only to circle back around to find my girlfriend on her knees, scared to death, and surrounded by five masked men gawking at my porn on the laptop while grabbing lewdly their dicks with lustful intents. The rest happened so fast it became a blur. One minute we were held at gunpoint in the living room. The next we were in the bedroom, where a couple of guys rummaged through our things demanding their pay. I was bound and gagged in a chair by then, forced to face the bed where she splayed, while guy after guy had their filthy way with her. Afterwards, each man came up to me with a sickening grin to wipe the remnants of their slick-spent serpents on my pant leg. Taunting me, saying this was what I get for not getting them their money back.

I should’ve known then something was up. Fishy, not what it seemed. I had no doubt. Not hanging over my head from the likes of goons, especially these goons. I owed nothing more than a small supplemental loan I got from the bank, and even that was a few weeks off from repayment.

The other thing—in spite of my plea of not knowing what they were talking about—was the eerie feeling which crept over me, like I was all too familiar with the masculine bodies that filled the tight space of the bedroom. As if I had seen them all before, in all their stark-naked glory, somehow; strangely even with water cascading down their hard frames in place of the sweat building up on their taut fleshes.

Even more telling—this, of course, in hindsight no less—her feeble attempt to resist the men. Not as if it was futile to resist her attackers because she was the “little” woman and they were too big and too many for her to fend off. No. It was the subtle look of ecstasy in her eyes; the wanting to call out her pleasure after the first guy broke his stride. Her writhing wildly atop the mattress like a possessed succubus gyrating her hips against her partnered assailants. Her low beastly groans growing stronger and stronger by the minute begging for more.

“My body’s betraying me,” she cried out to me. Telling me their ridiculously huge pricks were filling her up to the brim, and every time another guy came, another small death washed over her only to be awakened by the newest hard-on plowing into her.

I was too busy crying in my chair, pleading for them to stop in my helpless state, especially when I saw one guy still inside her dare to go for a double hitter. The bastards cheered as he dumped his duplicitous load against her convulsing quim. Fuck! No! The men agreed, “The hungry slut” was enjoying herself wayyy too much for them to stop, inspiring new erections which kept them taking turns throughout the night.

I cried some more. She came like a lioness. Her sweat-drenched body “betraying” her orgasm after fervent orgasm—or so I thought.

After the men left, she limped out of bed towards me like a dizzying drunk. Maybe this too was an act. Maybe this was for real, with her legs consistently spread open for five virile men for hours on end. To this day, I do not know. I do know the closer she got to me her ersatz weeping grew into a sadistic cackle as her warm cunt hovered over my lap with their collected deposits as she gave her stretched pussy one solid push to release a beige glob. She the confessed the plunder I witnessed was just an elaborate rouse put on by her and some of my teammates as payback for me fucking her mom and her aunt in the Jacuzzi at Thanksgiving.

I spent the better part of the next morning trying to break free of the bounds I was left in. I was too wrapped up in my anger still to truly absorb the dirty trick they played on me, including being unable to do something about the other wet spot in my lap, caused by the constant boner I sported throughout the night. I was pissed. At her, at my teammates, quipped with the ever-classic line “bros before hoes” to justify their hand in her devious plan. (Though I failed to understand if I was truly their “bro” why did they put my “ho” before my feelings?) Furious wasn’t even the word. She’d been forced to kick rocks, and I was left to shy away from those rotten bastards as best I could. But then again, I couldn’t get terribly upset. The girls I slept around with back then were usually somebody else’s girlfriend. Rather than call it karma, I concluded most of the girls I slept around with were just tramps.

Then, one night, perhaps three months after the incident, I was forced to have a difference of opinion. With each new girl I took out soon after, each proved to be wholesome and sugary sweet to a fault, girls I could’ve gladly got down on one knee for.

But my cravings for girls taking on more than one guy, more than me, took hold, to the point for the longest stretch of time that I couldn’t get off with a woman, or without one, without the guilt-free image of that sadistic night playing vividly in my mind. The race to make my girl squirm the wildest, scream the loudest, and squirt the hardest with barrels of cum breeding the soppiest creampie was too much for me to bear. I came like three times in a single night to the revelation, all to my hands.

Years later, I swore I was cured of this ailment when old memories of that long ago night were reduced to mental stills. The porn mimicking those acts failed to live up to the thrill, the tangible moment of such a magnificent act. Perhaps I was put off by the actors in these performances. The fact it was an act, the fact they were paid to do this to authenticate it for an audience en masse. Perhaps, it was the fact I wasn’t cursed with the same afflictions, the hang-ups or the stereotypes often cast on men who thoroughly enjoy these acts thrust upon their women.

First off, my dick isn’t small. ‘Hung’ is often used to describe it. Satisfying a woman has never been a problem either. The main reason I slept around like I did was because one of my women would tell one of her girlfriends what we did, how we did it, and they were destined to test out the product for themselves. And who was I to refuse? Pussy was pussy, right? Lastly, if not the strangest thing, I am black—or African American for those of a politically correct tongue.

What was my setback? What re-twisted my once untwisted little kink?

Well, I was proudly moving away from the “strange” back to the “normal.” My career in the pros was soaring high, and I thought it was time for me to settle down. I met a girl who was like the ones I passed over earlier in my youth, the ones I should’ve married before now. I was poised for my happily ever after, when my plans were thwarted by the extravagant bachelor party my best man threw for me.

He hired strippers and a hooker that fitted my tastes, bit tits and a heart-shaped ass. I originally passed on the hooker, stashed in the annexed room, as it was customary for the groom to get first dibs. I told the woman I respected my future bride too much to cross that line. I stepped out and watched one guy after the next quietly sneak off into the other room and rejoin the fold with a knowing grin of just getting laid.

Soon enough, our discretionary pleasantries ceased as the party moved into the bedroom. The timid understanding whore I left a couple of hours earlier was an insatiable nymph softening hard baseballs bats with her pulsing pussy. My eyes were taking this in like a camcorder, watching her get off on the rough pounding of men, owning and controlling them with just the right squeeze of her cunt muscles. With each man and each act, I grew more desperate to renege on my promise to marry my future wife. If only I could marry such a cum-hungry slut unabashed by her need, her want, as it became ever clear this had nothing to do with money—this was her behind the guise of it.

Alas. My name and my career prevented such a proposal. Even if I got away with it on personal level, my professional career was sure to tank. There would be vicious rumors I’d wedded a woman who took on more than seven men on the eve of my wedding, if not by the scolding of owners and management, surely by temperamental fans.

Still, I’d be fool to pass up a chance to be with this wanton woman, after she delighted in so many men. I cut in front of a few other guys wanting a second and third helping. I mounted her from behind, riding her harder in competitive spirit of my partiers. She was warm and loose from being fucked so many times, slick with their semen which made it even sweeter. By the time I was done, my legs were shaking from the most powerful ball-draining load I’d ever spent!

Other than clearing out the old pipes in one continuous wave, I wasn’t sure what happened after that. I just remember coming to with my face between her legs and the jaw-dropping stares I got before my satisfying emptiness faded into black.

Honestly. I didn’t come back to my sense until after the third night of our honeymoon. The wedding, the event leading up to it after the bachelor party, the reception, and the plane ride was at best a blur, with bits and pieces eventually resurfacing later on. And I think I only came too because I saw my new wife enamored with our guide, a strapping brown local, who I was sure had his fair share of female tourists when their husbands or boyfriends took their eyes off the prize.

I tried my hand at such luck, hoping to peak in on them during a private rendezvous, only to have him to get her warmed up for me as she became nothing more than afterplay for me and the woman at my bachelor party. Maybe my wife was deeply in love with me. Perhaps she was protective of the fortune she was to inherit if she stayed married to me longer than a week.

A month later, I broached the subject lightly as to not to scare her off. I showed my wife, Sandy, some flicks where guys got it on with other guy’s girls to get her reaction. She mistook it to be visual confession of how, in my wild single days, I and some of my other teammates might’ve scored with other men’s wives. She’d been briefed on the rumors of owners and enthusiastic fans offering up their white wives for a chance at some professional black and brown baseball cock. I guess given my wife was white and I was black, she must’ve also assumed I cut out the middleman as she tied me down and straddled me for the rest of the night.

My window for making the marriage work was slowly closing in, if not for the bitter works of a jealous sister-in-law who thought her looks deserved a professional athlete of her own. If it wasn’t for her trying mouth, Robyn would’ve been right. Robyn was forever quick to remind her big sister, and anyone who would listen, she wasn’t the pretty little goody two-shoes she portrayed herself to be. While Sandy wasn’t the town slut, she did cause a bit of a scandal in her youth getting too close to this mixed neighbor of theirs.

“You remember him,” Robyn said. “He was at the wedding—a light-skinned fella, sort of looks like Lenny Kravitz.” Although the guy she was referring to was also black and Jewish, this didn’t make for an instant comparison. Though I would be remiss to say even I had to do a double take to make sure the rock star didn’t crash my already star-studded wedding. The only thing this guy was missing was the signature afro. “Back then, people weren’t kosher with the interracial thing as they are now. Not down in Enterprise [Alabama]. But Big Sis set off more than a few firestorms occasionally dropping in at the local drugstore to pick up a pregnancy test. Thank God for her fucked-up monthlies! A prominent family’s emotions can only endure but so much!”

Robyn soon had me hooked by this useless information when she also let it “slip” this was more than young puppy love. That Simeon was her go-to boyfriend. The guy who often filled the spaces between other boyfriends, the man she held her breath for—as in the great love of her life. Simeon was the one she wanted to marry. He didn’t mind dropping in for a hot spell, but surely his womanizing ways made it nearly impossible for him to be husband material.

Sandy fooled herself into believing she had a choice in the matter. That she chose me over him, telling her family I was the stable of the two. Safe, as Robyn referred to it. I wasn’t terribly hurt by the revelation. In many respects, she was “safe” for me, too. We had great chemistry if nothing more. We had plenty more than that, though. To be honest, sex was at the top of our list, but in my sister-in-law’s conniving plot to make for an unhappy home, she fetched me an idea which could work for the three of us quite well.

Minus the bachelor party incident, my thirst for cheating dried up after the blonde bombshell, but that didn’t say my actions couldn’t lend itself to the notion again. Like, if I was on the road, why not stay out an extra day or two? Breed the rumors I was out there messing around with a groupie or a permanent side piece? During the off-season, why not make myself scarce from time-to-time, mysteriously booking a hotel room down the street to kick back and relax as she allowed her wildest imagination to hold tight?

One day, while I was home, I ran some errand around the neighborhood when I came across my lovely wife getting out of her car and her beloved boy toy hopping off his cool motorcycle in the parking lot of this trendy Mexican restaurant across the street from the LaQuinta Inn. It didn’t take long to discover Dear Simeon’s “company” leased an apartment less than five miles away from my humbled abode. And two weeks later, thumbing through the home security system footage, I saw this impressive long, pierced cock pull out of my sated wife’s mouth, spraying this dense load that’d make a porn star blush.

****

Our second wedding anniversary was coming up. I decided then that it was better late than never to pull my plan together. Sandy and I spent the whole day in romantic bliss followed by a nightcap in our finest sleepwear. We were on our way upstairs when a timed knock arrived shortly after eleven. As she worried who could it be, I ushered her upstairs to put on the white lingerie I bought her earlier in the day. Sandy obliged, and shortly thereafter, I let her boyfriend in, offered him a drink, and led him up the stairs to the bedroom where our woman was stretched out on the bed with her soft hand vigorously moved behind her panty line.

“Simeon!” Sandy balked, reaching for the fringes of cover to throw over her privates.

Simeon grinned in delight and then soon straight-faced on my account.

“Let’s cut the bull!” I said. “I know about the two of you fucking.”

Simeon nearly choked on his spit at my bold declaration, and before either of them could deny their part or confess, I pointed up to the camera I installed a year earlier and regurgitated the clarity of it given to me by the installers.

“If you think I’m upset, I’m not.” I let it be known. “In fact, I must confess. Watching you make my wife gag on your shit was pretty hot! I probably beat off to that shit at least five times already.”

Sandy looked horrified. It took everything in my man Simeon not to crack up and flee in the process.

“Sort of my twisted little kink,” I affirmed aloud for the first time in my life, cleaning up the highlights of watching the blonde bombshell have the time of her life in her clever act of retaliation. “But if half the fun of your rendezvous is doing it behind my back, we can pretend like I’m oblivious still. She has her fun with you, and I come home to run up in your sloppy seconds like I’m none the wiser. Haven’t we been doing that ever since we met? You’ve popped her cherry, and I’ve been the cleanup hitter ever since?”

“You’re fucking sick!” Sandy sputtered mad. Her eyes welled as if she had some moral high ground to stand on.

“Get over it, dear. What’s sick is that I never once cheated on you. My pretend absence drove you straight to him the minute you thought the coast was clear. You brought him into this room no less. Let him wipe off his dick with the edge of our covers. I guess your secret credit card couldn’t support his new apartment and a room at the LaQuinta Inn, huh? What do you say to that dear?”

I read her face. Sandy was looking for the “but” in my proposal, looking at me and looking at him.

“I’m cool with it…if you’re cool with it.” I glanced over at Simeon.

“I’m cool with it if you’re cool with it.” He concurred with a repressed smile.

I turned, facing him. “A man after my own fucking hard-on! Pussy is pussy, right? It’s great to break the seal. It’s even better to fool around in a slop bucket mess. That’s when you can really get dirty!”

Simeon chucked nervously at my wink. He was getting hard as my hand found the top button of his fly. “One rule, though: None of that lovemaking shit, huh. That’s reserve for me and the missus. I want you to fuck her with your fat pierced dick like the little bitch in heat we both know she can be. No offense, babe.”

Sandy was flustered, perhaps by my wink or my blessing to have her cake and eat it too as I glided his zipper down over his crotch and fished out the cheating dick she admired so much.

“Man, you got a little freak in you, huh, baseball star?” Simeon wide-grinned, wetting his mouth for a kiss. So Robyn was onto something with those fluid rumors?

“Nah, partner, not like that,” I replied to the eagerness of his eyes, catching the satire of his hard pierce dick in my hand without letting my mouth give in to him. I reached behind his heavy balls, stroking its hairy balls sending chills rupturing up his spine. I craned my neck into his ear and whispered sweet nothings, giving him my permission to have fun with our woman.

I let him go. He moved towards to bed where she was anxious for him. I caught him, spun him around onto the bench at the foot of the bed. He was startled, scared. His greatest fear that this was a setup revealed, as he clenched his fist read for my first blow—if I was to ever deliver one. I kneeled before him. His eyes hoped I changed my mind, and that my mouth might be of service somewhere on his person. But I merely removed his dirty boots and damp socks before I called my wife over to help her other man out of his jeans.

“Don’t be scared now.” I raked my hand through her long silky hair as I took hold of his leaping pierced bullhorn again, introducing her awaiting mouth onto him. His hand soon replaced mine atop of her head, and coached, “Do what your hubby says, baby girl. He’s a very wise man.”

I moved to my feet, taking much delight in the view below. He guided her head deeper into his lap. Sandy gurgled, forced to take his thickened length down to the root, passed the comfort of her mouth, and puffed extremely hard when she came up for air. Simeon built a rhythm. A rhythm my libertine wife tried to thwart fisting his dick as a stopper for her mouth.

I leaned in, prying away her fingers. “Uh-un, sweetheart,” I warned like a loving parent. “I taught you better than that. Show our guess what we know you can really do with that mouth of yours!”

Sandy took my words to heart, passing through her usual resistances to deep throat him with a passion becoming of his full manhood.

“There you go, baby girl!” Simeon swooned on the road to a euphoric paradise filled with loud slobs and sweet drools. “Pretty little mouth.”

“What’d I tell you?” I reminded her in her sweet groove on him. “Don’t ever be a lazy, bitch. Your slob game is weak when you have to bring in your hand to do all the work for you. For the life you get to live—especially with this new bonus I brought to the table—your mouth should be operating like an above-waist pussy.”

“Hmmm,” Sandy hummed on his dick.

Simeon tittered. “Eh, boy, I think she needs to be reminded so she doesn’t ever forget.”

I caught the emphasis on the word. But I was too caught up looking at where he was nodding to correct him. Sitting on a chair in the corner was a hand paddle Sandy and I sometimes used in our play.

She must’ve had eyes behind her head or could read his mind well because before I turned back around her panties were already down mid-thigh showing off her firm shapely rear. She jumped, ready for the blow.

“Don’t be a lazy, bitch.”

Swat!

“Don’t ever be a lazy, bitch!”

Swat!

“And you don’t ever forget to make eye contact when you’re sucking a gorgeous dick like that!”

Swat! Swat! Swat!

Her vigor renewed. She sucked and sucked him hard, almost as if she could suck his special milk out of his pierced straw. I kept the paddle firm in hand, using it to remind her I was still there as her cunt juices glistened bright against its wrinkled folds.

“Aw shet!” Simeon groaned after my fingers probed her sweet spot.

“You sound like you want to bust that nut?” I mocked.

“I can’t lie. I could…just like this. You must’ve taught her good how to suck dick ‘cause I don’t remember the game like this.”

“We’ve had plenty of practice…and much inspiration.” I flashed the paddle in lieu of the collar I had elsewhere in the room.

“Um-hmm.” Sandy agreed with a mouthful of dick.

“Plenty of practice.” I smirked, thinking how I had a wife who could suck me bone dry and pussy on demand, and it still wasn’t enough.

“You think it’s time to fuck this pussy?” Simeon asked.

“I think she needs to be fucked.”

Sandy pulled off his dick so fast, I heard the clanking of his pierced metal tip scrape against her teeth when she hopped onto the bed, giggling.

“I guess she’s ready to get fucked. You sure about this, man?”

“Shit, yeah,” my smile widened. I couldn’t do much the first time I saw another man take my woman. And the second time, I was just one of many on a pit stop. But once he fucked her, right before my very eyes, she was mine to keep and to do this over and over again.

“I think after sucking a mean dick she deserves her reward, man. Ain’t that right, Snookums.” He teased badly.

Sandy beamed nevertheless. Her beautiful face said it all propped against the pillow playing with the folds between her squeezed thighs.

Simeon pulled off his shirt and climbed into the bed with her. Kissing and fondling her, like lovers in private with me being the little brother spying on them. His hand snaked down her taut frame to her eager mound. He pushed two fingers inside her wetness attentive to her gasps and moans, and he explored her spot.

“I got her going just thinking about it.” Simeon winked back at me.

I naturally assumed he was talking about his dick. Then something in her laugh said otherwise, a secret between them, between old lovers I was being filled in on.

“Come here.” He said to me.

I moved towards Simeon.

“Take that shit off.” He said of my pajamas.

I disrobed.

“Put your face right here, man.” He said parting her labia with two fingers.

I obliged, taking my cue to allow my tongue to make their leisurely rounds as I worked her into frenzy, her hips rolling onto my face like rough ocean waves as she came and came again. She bucked. Her body shook even more, letting out a wounded shriek as I slipped a couple of fingers inside of her and sucked her swollen clit robustly.

“Pull your fingers out.” Simeon snapped.

I did.

“Eat her out. Do that motorboat thing with your tongue.”

I did, feeling her natural juices lap back on me.

“Put just a finger back in.” He instructed.

I did, drumming it and hooking it under her ribbed sweet spot.

“Keep it there. Hit that spot…keep on hitting that spot…take your other hand pull back and press down on the skin right above the clit. Yeah, that’s it!”

I did. Her body writhed underneath my lone finger. Her eyes rolled in the back of her head like a demon possessed followed by this deafening squeal leaving her body. Her body tensed, froze stiff. Something magical happened, something unexplainable. Sandy wheezed. Exploded, shooting off like fireworks as she squirted her secretion, shooting high like a geyser in staggered pumps that refused to let up. What the fuck?

“Get back in there!” Simeon commanded suppressing my need to laugh at this crazy sight. “That’s how I got her to come off the pussy the very first time, man. I had this thing squirting like she was mad at the world!”

He pushed my head off her.

By the time I knew what was happening from my place on the floor, he was already balls deep in her slick pussy; her soaking muscles clenching around his long stiff pierced dick, loving every inch of it on her way to another orgasm.

“Give it to me, Big Daddy!” Sandy purred, gyrating her possessed hips against him and locked her legs around him.

Sandy gasped as he reared back and slammed into her with the easiest of ease and answered her with each stroke. “Only…if…you…want…it…like a bitch in heat!”

“Ehhh! God! Yes! Shit! Yes! Fuck!!!” My wife yelped without a care in the world to another man like I wasn’t even in the room. “I want it! Yes! I want it, Big Daddy!”

“You want what from Big Daddy?” Simeon taunted, rearing nearly all the way out of her.

“Your beautiful black cock!”

“Why’s that, San?!”

“Because I’m your fucking little bitch in heat that’s why! I need it in my hungry little slut box! Fuck me!”

Simeon slammed into her, completely owning her dominating her internally and externally in the moment.

As their mouths slipped deep into each other, their bodies poured with sweat, and their hard incessant grinding nothing more than a chorus of loud carnal slaps, I retreated to the chair I got my paddle from and sat down with my dick in hand, invisibly bound to the chair. This time not as a helpless partner to a vengeful lover, but as the loving husband of a joyful wife squirming in sheer pleasure under a man who wasn’t me and not giving a damn if our neighbors found out under her lustful tantrums.

Her violent heaves broke into scattering sobs birth from his power-trip thrusts. Her words in between mere gibberish and hyper manic; her body angered in lust, frustrated in passion, heated and spent and satisfied under his lone wield.

He reared back, slamming into her worn pocket once more, his long, pierced dick glistening bright from her continuing juices. He couldn’t hold back, and he cried out every so often as he held back as best he could for as long as he could, vowing he was a minute off from blowing his top but finding the strength to hold on. “Shit! This pussy is gggrrreeeaaattt!” Simeon stammered a hard groan. This time was different. This time I saw his balls retract up his body. His shaft convulsed, pumping his seed before he gave another verbal cry, stuttered, and slammed against her newest screech either by the forced being leveled against her or the heat of his semen being drained into her delighted body.

He rolled to the side of her after a while.

“Eh, boy.” Simeon called out at me rubbing my spent load over my hardened torso. “Clean me up and get something to clean up the missus.”

I staggered out of my chair to the bathroom where I warmed and wet two washcloths.

“Nuh-uh, partner,” Simeon tut-tutted with a smooth finger wag standing in the threshold. “No rag. You said yourself you like a sloppy cunt. Thank the very thing that made it possible by cleaning it with your tongue, man.”

“I’m not gay, dawg.” I dismissed the notion.

“Who said you were? I wasn’t planning on breaking you off like I did your wife. I’m just saying a thank you is in order for the very thing that made this night possible.”

I looked at his dick, angled down and still swollen with fugacious blood, and reluctantly moved towards him ready to hand off his rag.

“Nuh-uh, partner,” he tut-tutted once more with his finger going. “Not another step, I need you to crawl for this prize!”

Even to this day, I don’t why or when my knees hit the ground or my hands palmed the tile floor. I don’t even remember sniffing around his shaft running along my cheek or licking his balls or gorging on his dick. All I remember is the taste of my wife on him and his sweet and salty cum around her folds as I cleaned her up double time with my tongue a deep long hour before drifting off to sleep.

“You married a good one, Sandy.” Simeon applauded me the next morning, throwing on his clothes from the night before. “Your man is cool as fuck! I don’t even watch ball games like that, but I’m definitely a fan now!”

I paid him little mind in my groggy state, reaching down on my wife to find her pussy freshly warm and moist as I slipped my dick inside of it, wishing he could stay and deposit another load I could swim in.

“Lock up, Sweetheart.” I hissed as I pulled off and watch my wife escort him out the door. “And, by the way, since I’m flipping the bill for your apartment, Simeon, might I suggest you get a comfortable chair for that spacious bedroom of yours if you don’t already have one!”

He chuckled on the other side of the threshold. “I’ll do that, man. How about the two of you come by to see it the day after tomorrow? Give me a chance to pick one out today with a buffered to have it delivered within two?”

“All right!” I shouted touching my sticky boner and probing my cheek with my tongue.

I moved to my feet and out the door in time to catch my wife and her lover share a lewd kiss with his fingers where my dick recently was.

I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Most guys fantasize about two girls at once. I fantasize about my wife taking on more than one guy. For starters, this wasn’t at all half bad.