Keith POV
The wine was a mistake. Specifically, the third bottle. That’s when things turned playful, even flirty. On a Valentine’s date, that normally wouldn’t be a problem. Only this wasn’t any ordinary Valentine’s date. It was a double date, on Valentine's Day. An impromptu double date. With my best friend with his date and my husband Orin and me.
Orin and I had our reservation locked in for weeks. Mariners Cove is very nice, and most of the time, it's not very hard to get into, but on special nights, like valentines day, it was best to not leave it to chance. It was where we went for our first date, and it had become a regular spot for us. It was also a hotspot for the local gays, at least the ones with any real taste. The ones who wanted more than just the bar scene where you had to shout to hear over the music.
It was meant to be a night with just the two of us. That was the plan right up until I saw Jerry, my best friend, walk through the door while we were waiting for our table. He spotted me almost immediately. The way he waved and moved in our direction so quickly, you'd think he was meeting us there.
He had a date with him, a guy named Tate. Jerry said it was a surprise to see us there and mentioned, almost casually, that Tate picked the restaurant. I took that in, nodded along, and then really looked at him. That was when it clicked. I've met Tate before, in another city just over an hour away, Tucson, Arizona, about a month before I met my husband, Orin.
I drove out earlier in the day to spend some time with family, and hadn't intended to stay the night. By the time evening came around, I was left with two options. I could get back in the car and drive home, or I could make the most of being in another city, find a bar, and see if anything had changed in the year since I’d last been there. I chose the bar hoping to get lucky. I'd been gone long enough that it's possible I would be considered fresh meat.
I grabbed a drink and settled in at the bar. I planned to stay long enough to see if anything piqued my interest, but not long enough to get drunk. It didn't take long to notice Tate. Or more accurately, when I noticed everyone else notice him. From the moment he walked in the bar, he seemed to command attention. And it was rightfully given. The man was hot. He was tall and confident. Sexy dark skin, and muscles for days. He wore tight pants that left little to the imagination. Not only that, he had a perfect ass. So, yeah, I might have been staring a little. He was a player, probably. The kind that knew he could, and most likely would, be taking home anyone in the bar that he wanted.
I clocked him immediately as someone way out of my league. So, imagine my surprise when not only did he notice me, but he took an interest and walked over. Long story short... I didn’t make the drive home that night. He took me home and fucked me more times than I could count. I didn't make it home in the morning either, because that was when he gave me his ass. The things he did to me that night have been seared into my memory, perpetual fuel for the spank bank on a lonely night.
I did make it home that afternoon with the intent of seeing him again, but that's when I got the reality check. The novelty was that I was fresh meat from out of town. I got ghosted. Which really bummed me out for the next few weeks. Then I met Orin and everything seemed to go great from there. We were married a year later, and have been for the last three years.
I tried to remember if I told Jerry anything about that night, or anything about Tate, but I was drawing a blank. So, seeing Tate was a bit of a shock. I don't even know if he recognized me. Or if he remembered me at all. I was nothing more than a random one-nighter like four years ago.
I ran through the options quickly. I could pretend we never met, act like I didn't remember, or acknowledge it and deal with the awkwardness of being ghosted by one of the hottest guys I've ever been with, while my husband stood right next to me. I didn’t get the chance to decide.
Tate smiled and said it was nice to meet me. The words sent one message. The handshake sent another one entirely. The grip lingered, and the look he gave me made it clear he remembered exactly who I was and what we did. What didn’t line up was the smile. Considering the fact he ghosted me. I couldn't figure out why he seemed glad to see me.
If I ghosted someone like that, the last thing I would want is to run into them, and find out the best friend of my date was the guy I ghosted. Talk about awkward. I mean, had they talked about it? What would he have said about me? And would my date put it together and decide I wasn't worth his time?
Jerry, being the social one, suggested we make the most of it and sit together. Orin jumped at it and was off to talk to the host before I could even register what was happening. They said they could do it, but it would mean another twenty-minute wait.
We agreed and Jerry was pulling us into the bar.
So just like that, what was supposed to be a quiet night with my husband turned into a double date. Me and Orin, Jerry and Tate, and some awkward history that would undoubtedly rear its ugly head.
Jerry and Orin peeled off toward the bar as soon as we stepped inside, already talking over each other about what the best wine to start the evening off would be. An outsider might have questioned whether Jerry was his best friend or mine. Or, given the way my husband placed his hand on the small of Jerrys back as they walked, it would be easy to assume they were the couple. It was an innocent gesture, but one that could easily give mixed signals to anyone that didn't know my husband, or my best friend.
I stayed where I was, because I wasn’t getting in the way of that. When they start talking about wine, the best thing you can do is leave them alone. Tate hung back with me, and we ended up at a high-top near the host station while they bantered, and the poor bartender waited patiently for an actual order.
I glanced toward the bar and then back at Tate and asked if he and Jerry were together. He didn’t answer directly. Instead, he smiled and said he had a thing for sexy Asian bottoms. I laughed and told him that if he was hoping to get anywhere tonight, calling Jerry a bottom probably wasn’t the best move.
Tate shrugged and said he’d been calling him that all week and it hadn’t stopped him from getting any. I just shook my head, because, yeah, that tracks. There was something else sitting right there, on the tip of my tongue, that I didn’t say.
I had to bite back the urge to say something about the fact he’d ghosted me but somehow managed to keep proving to Jerry that he is in fact a bottom. That like me, he should just embrace it. That doesn’t mean we can’t top, it’s just that we prefer not to. Sure, the occasional ass is nice. But a nice big cock is better.
The all week part said more than I wanted to know about how I’d ranked. Jerry was worth a call back and multiple
repeat performances, I wasn't. It stung, more than it should.
Instead, I shifted the conversation and asked how long he was in town for.
He told me he’d moved. NewEra Dynamics had recruited him and paid for the relocation. I asked how long he’d been in Tempe. About two months, he said. Then he hesitated and told me he owed me an apology. He didn't need to explain what for. We both knew without it being said. He said he had a reason, but before he could explain, Jerry and Orin were suddenly back at the table with drinks in hand.
"A reason for what?” Jerry asked.
I answered before Tate could. “The move from Tucson. New job.”
Tate nodded and went with it. He recognized, like before, that I didn’t want to get into our past in front of Jerry or Orin, and he let it drop without pushing. Jerry accepted the answer easily enough.
There were only two chairs at the high-top. Tate stepped out of the one he’d been using and offered it to Jerry, which had the effect of pulling us closer together. He stood with one hand on the back of both our chairs, only removing it for the briefest of moments to take a sip of wine.
He stood close enough that I could feel the heat off him, close enough that it made me aware of my own body in a way I hadn’t been a few minutes earlier. I felt the way his thumb seemed to casually make contact with my back and draw circles. I shot him the what are you doing look, which he ignored. But the smirk on his lips as he turned in Jerry's direction told me he saw it.
The whole thing was a little infuriating, mostly because I should have expected it. My eyes kept darting to Orin to see if he was aware of what Tate was doing. The way he had his hands on both our chair backs made it like he was taking possession of both of us. But Orin didn't notice at all. Neither did Jerry for that matter. They were still lost in their discussion.
New rule, no more talking about wine when out to dinner together.
Tate's glass was empty, so was mine. I would have gotten up to get another round, but I knew better than to do that too. It would only trigger some form of criticism that I knew nothing about wine, and to let them do it. But, fuck it.
"Another drink?" I asked Tate, already having made the decision to order my own drink, consequences be damned. Tate joined me at the bar where I ordered a mojito. Yes, I ordered it knowing full well it would trigger my best friend. Tate echoed the order to the bartender.
"We're going to catch hell for this, you know that, right?" I said.
"Fuck em," Tate replied.
"So what was your reason?" I asked. I wasn't sure if I wanted the answer, but since all of our plans tonight are completely out the window at this point, and I'm about to start a bit of an argument with my drink order, why the fuck not.
"For completely ghosting you like an asshole?"
"Yeah, that reason. You were about to tell me earlier," I gestured in their direction, "before we were interrupted."
"Well," he began, "the short answer is, I'm an asshole. I was then, and I still am now. But I would say that asshole didn't give a shit about what other people thought about him. This asshole only cares what the people that matter think." That's about as honest an answer as one could expect. But it's not a reason.
"You were a lot of fun," he continued. "Too much fun if I'm being honest. If I didn't ghost you, I would have easily found myself driving to Tempe on a regular basis. But I was too concerned with my career for that. Any and all distractions were unacceptable. Any regular fuck buddies had to be local."
Before the bartender left, Tate asked if he could take a photo of us, then looked to me to make sure I was okay with it. I just smiled and placed my hand on his back as we posed for the camera.
"What's your number?" he asked. "I'll send you a copy of it."
I had to give him credit. It was a pretty smooth way of asking for someone's number. I wanted to be a smart ass and say it's the same as the last time I gave it to you. Instead I just airdropped him my contact card and pulled us back to the real topic of conversation.
“Tucson isn’t that far, and who says it would have been you driving to me. We did meet in your city."
We collected our drinks from the bartender and headed back to the table when he gave his reply. "I already said I was an asshole. If you're expecting some justification beyond that, I think you're going to be disappointed."
I got a bit of a laugh out of it and decided I would forgive him. He may be an asshole, but I think that's part of his appeal, for me at least.
We got back to the table and set our glasses down for the pair to see, which had the desired effect. First time tonight since Jerry decided to inject himself into our date night, both Jerry and Orin were completely speechless.
"But," he began, trying to find the words. "A Mojito doesn't go with..."
He didn't get a chance to finish that sentence. Tate cut him off.
"A Mojito, with its acidic and minty flavor, goes very well with grilled seafood, and we're at a place called Mariners Cove. I think we're ok."
You could see he wanted to object. His mouth kept opening and closing. Orin for his part just smiled.
"We will switch back to whatever wine you choose when we eat," I offered as a compromise, and an attempt to get him back into some form of responsive state where he could actually vocalize.
We had another round, and our table was finally ready. On the way to the table, Tate said something that left me speechless. “For what it’s worth,” he said, “I’m glad I ran into you again. Even if it doesn’t go anywhere tonight.”
I was trying to figure out what he meant by that. Was it an expectation that something might happen tonight? Was it an offer to hook up sometime in the future, now that he lived close by? I mean, he understood that I was married now, right? I was pretty sure we covered that, multiple times in the conversation, once we successfully got the topic away from wine.
The second bottle had disappeared with the shellfish platter, and the third was already half gone with the main course. My head felt fuzzy, my limbs loose, and my cock hard. Because Orin’s hand was on my thigh under the table, with his fingers moving in just the right way to be teasing but not obvious.
Across from me, I could feel Tate’s gaze like a physical weight. Every time I glanced up, his eyes were on me. I could almost feel the way he was visibly undressing me, and I definitely felt the way his foot kept coming into contact with mine. There was nothing accidental about it. It was all going straight to my groin.
The conversation had turned risqué, stories of embarrassing hookups and failed dates. Tate told the story of our hookup, without giving names. His eyes lingered on mine when he got to the juicy bits. Like the fact we stayed up all night long. The only real difference was, in his story, I was in town from New York.
"Did you ever... you know?" my husband asked, eager for more details.
"Did I ever what? Talk to him again? See him again?" he asked. I liked how he pushed Orin to actually say it rather than imply it.
"You know..." Orin said again. "Fuck him again."
Tate saw the way Orin seemed to be turned on by it. He was hungry for the details, and getting the highlights wasn't doing it for him. So, he doubled down. "No. But I hope to," Tate said, and then continued with the extra details to tease the fuck out of Orin. "His ass fit me like a fucking glove, so tight, but not too tight. And the way he fucked back into me. We just had this chemistry that I know would be electric if we got to play again."
"What's the problem?" Orin asked. "Look him up." Then he realized what he was saying and turned to Jerry with an apologetic smile. Because he pretty much just told Jerry's date to find the guy and fuck him again. I laughed at the unintended double meaning. Because what he was really saying was, Tate should fuck me again.
"Oh, I did," Tate replied with the most mischievous smile. "He's married now, so the ball is in his court."
Yes, he's an asshole and I find it incredibly erotic. I loved the open offer he had just delivered, right in front of my husband, who had no clue what just happened.
"Well," my husband replied. "I for one hope you get your shot." He then turned to Jerry. "It's just sex. You'll get over it. Tate can have his fun and then come back to you after."
I had to bite my tongue. "Careful Tate," I joked. "You might make Jerry jealous."
"Oh," he said as if he were considering the implications of that. "Jerry doesn't need to be jealous. He's allowed to have his fun. As long as I can have mine too."
"That's hot," I heard my husband utter under his breath. He liked the dynamic of their relationship. Something I never would have expected. He always seemed too strait-laced in the bedroom. There wasn't much kink or exploration at all. At least, I don't ever recall him expressing an interest in it. Hell, it was a project just to get him to indulge in toys and pornography.
Don't get me wrong, we have a great sex life, he has a high sex drive. He's just not very adventurous.
Jerry told a few of his own tales. Usually about married men who love fucking the sexy Asian with a tight frame.
"Yes yes," Tate said. "Ok, bottom boy. We know you love taking married cock."
I almost spit out my wine when he said it. Because it took everything in me not to start laughing.
"I fuck them too," Jerry quickly countered.
"Ok," Tate replied with a grin. He was clearly egging him on. He told me he'd been doing it all week. I just didn't expect to see it.
Jerry couldn't let it go. He had to get one final word in. Only this time he replied in a tone and level that was clearly meant for only the two of them, but we still heard it. "I'd fuck you if you'd let me."
Tate picked up Jerry's hand off the table and kissed the back of it. "Maybe one day."
And the look in Jerry's eyes told me that was enough to placate him. He was fine with letting Tate say and believe whatever he wanted, as long as he kept fucking him and that there was a potential for a flip one day.
I'm pretty fucking sure I had the biggest fucking smile on my face at that point. Because up until then, I had been under the impression Jerry had left the bigger impression on Tate, because he was getting the repeat performance where I got ghosted. But Tate had let me fuck him that morning before I left. So, maybe Jerry wasn't as good in bed as I previously imagined.
I got to hear some stories about my husband and his college days, that really didn't seem to match up with the man I knew. That Orin seemed far more adventurous. Like when he talked about having a threeway on a boat. I wondered, for the briefest of moments, if he was making it up so he didn't seem so vanilla to Tate. I mean, Jerry is a non-event, he knows how vanilla Orin is, I've told him as much. And he's spent many a night ribbing Orin about it, with me. Jerry was even there the day we dragged him to the adult store to pick out some toys.
"Who are you and what have you done with my husband? Because that Orin seems like he's a lot more fun." We all got a laugh, but I wasn't done there. "That Orin seems like he wouldn't need to be dragged to an adult store to pick out some toys. Do you remember that Jer?"
"Oh my god yes. He was so embarrassed."
"Alright, love of my life, your turn. What was the wildest thing you got up to before you married me and ruined your freedom?”
Oh there are so many stories I could tell. Stories that up until now I might have been concerned about. I mean, the last thing someone wants to do is tell their spouse about some past event and be judged for it, right? So the question is, what story should I tell? How much did I want to shock him? Or maybe that's not the right question. Maybe the question I should be asking myself is, what story should I be telling Tate, so I could tease him just as much as he teased me. I wanted to show him I could be fun in more ways than one.
So, I told them about something that I would never have even talked about, if it weren't for the alcohol.
"Jerry kind of knows this one,” I began, glancing at him before looking between Orin and Tate. “But I don’t think he knows all the details." And I was having fun pointing that out. Jerry liked to think he knew everything there was about me. But I gotta keep some secrets, right? The truth was, I was kinda embarrassed by the story, but I was still turned on actually doing it.
"It was about six years ago. I’d gone home with a couple after drinks, you remember them right Jer? Gavin and Cole. You wanted Gavin so bad."
"No." he corrected. "I wanted Cole. He was the hot one."
"Whatever," I said, dismissing his correction. "Anyways, I was thinking it was just going to be one night of fun. What I didn’t know I was walking into was how kinky they were. The role I was expected to play. They were looking for someone to take control."
"Nice," Tate said. Low enough that he wasn't trying to interrupt my story.
"There was a bit of humiliation, degradation, some restraints, and a lot of fucking. For Cole at least. Gavin on a rare occasion."
"Excuse me?" Orin asked. I don't think my vanilla husband was figuring it out. But Tate clearly had.
"It's called cuckolding," Tate told him. "Your husband was their bull. Gavin was the cuck." He leaned in, looking at me across the table. "Tell me you put Gavin in a cage?"
"I did," I confirmed.
"How long?" he asked.
"A month." I answered. "The cage came on the second week when they asked me to up things a notch. But after a month I wanted it off him, I wanted something to play with and he had a nice cock. Anyways, that only lasted about two months, because apparently I wasn't hardcore or committed enough for them."
I sat back in my seat with a smile, content that I had accomplished my task of impressing Tate, shocking Orin, and possibly making Jerry a little jealous. I wasn't ashamed to admit the last part.
"Meaning what?" Jerry asked. "What did they want you to do?"
"I was fine holding onto the key," I answered. "But I'm not going to make someone sleep in a dog cage overnight, or make them serve us dinner. Degrading someone during sex is one thing. I wasn't about to make it a part of daily life."
By the time we paid the check, subtlety was completely gone, and the sex had completely dominated the conversation. Jerry didn’t bother easing into it. He wrapped an arm around Orin, the other around Tate, and said, “The night’s young. My place has a great view and a fully stocked bar. Seems a shame to end things here.”
Orin beamed. “Sounds great.”
I opened my mouth to let out a weak protest. I wanted to go home and get fucked, not continue drinking and talking about sex. I wanted to actually do it.
That's when Tate leaned in and whispered in my ear. “Come on, Keith,” he murmured, his breath hot against my ear. “Think about the fun we will have.” His touch was electric and possessive. It silenced me. I just nodded with a lump in my throat and some doubt about what was likely to happen. But I went with it.
We stumbled out into the cool night air. Jerry was handsy with both Tate and Orin. He was a little tipsy too; I think all the wine might have finally been getting to him. The Uber arrived, and Orin climbed in first and scooted all the way across the backmost third-row seat. “Plenty of room back here!” he called. Jerry quickly followed him and collapsed into the seat next to Orin.
That left Tate and me with the middle row. “After you.” His voice was low. I slid in, hyper-aware of the way his hand found the small of my back as I climbed in and took the far seat with Tate following me. It dawned on me then that I gave him a perfect view of my ass when I did it.
The car pulled into traffic, the city lights streaking by. I tried to focus on the passing buildings, but my peripheral vision was on fire. Tate's hand was cupping his cock, and he was smiling at me the whole time. And yeah, I couldn't help but look. I only drew my eyes away when I saw something, a reflection from the back seat.
I saw movement. Jerry’s head was on Orin’s shoulder. Orin’s hand was in Jerry’s hair, stroking it. Then Jerry turned his face, and Orin met him in a kiss. It wasn’t a friendly peck. It was deep and hungry, with slow moving mouths and lots of tongue. A wet intensity I knew all too well. I saw Jerry’s hand move, into Orin’s lap I think. I couldn't see the details, but I could imagine what he was holding on to right then. Especially when I'm pretty sure I heard a stifled "fuck yeah" from my husband.
My breath hitched. I stared rigidly ahead. They’re drunk. It’s just drunk fooling around. It doesn’t mean anything. But the image was seared into my brain. My husband, kissing my best friend.
Just as I was about to look away, Tate leaned in close, his breath hot against my ear. He was clearly trying to avoid interrupting what they were doing. “Looks like they’re not wasting any time,” he murmured. His hand brushed my thigh, light but deliberate, and I couldn’t stop myself from stiffening under his touch. “Tell me something, Keith,” he continued, his lips grazing the shell of my ear, “Does it turn you on? Watching them? Because it turns me on, knowing they’re already lost in each other? That they're already mentally fucking each other back there.”
I swallowed hard, my heart pounding as his words sent a sinful thrill through me. His fingers lingered on my leg, tracing idle circles through the fabric of my pants.
Tate spoke again. "And I'm pretty sure your friend has your husband's cock in his hand right now."
My gaze flicked back to the window, where Jerry slowly pulled back from my husband's embrace. Apparently, they were ok with being risky but didn't actually want to be caught. Too late.
“I think you know the answer,” I said, looking at the way his hand was in my lap, squeezing my hard cock. My body was telling him everything.
I melted under his touch. I was frozen, equal parts aroused and mortified at what my husband had just done with my best friend. I was unable to tear my eyes away from the reflection. I wanted to see if they did it again. I wondered just how risky were they willing to be. But I also wanted to look at Tate. To be a little risky myself.
The car ride became a suspended, erotic dream. They did occasionally kiss again, nothing quite as long as that first one, but still equally hot. I couldn’t stop wondering about Jerry’s hand. Did he have my husband's cock out, or was his hand in my husband's pants? If it was out, and the car ride was longer, would he have dared to go down on it? Would I have let him?
I caught sight of the high-rise where Jerry’s condo sat, three towers of glass and light cutting into the night sky. As it grew larger in the window, it was hard to deny where this night was going, what we were about to do. Lines we were about to cross. Some had already been crossed. And, I had a decision to make. One I needed to be quick about.
We were barely out of the car when I said it. “You guys go up. We’ll be right there.”
Jerry turned at that, confusion flashing across his face as he looked from me to Orin, then back again, like he was about to question it or argue the point. He didn't like the idea of me having a moment alone with my husband. Well, tough shit. He's my husband. And Jerry could wait.
He didn’t get the chance to say or do anything. Tate was already moving, one hand settling at Jerry’s shoulder, the other at his back, turning him toward the entrance and guiding him forward without a word. He at least understood the situation and would abide by whatever I decided.
I tipped the Uber driver, sent him on his way, and then turned to my husband. The quiet tension between us was thick.
"You saw," he said.
"I did," I answered. "Is that what you want tonight?"
"Am I in trouble if I say yes?" he asked as he stepped in close to me. I could see the affection in his eyes, just as much as I could tell he was searching for approval.
"You're in trouble because you didn't tell me it's what you wanted. You've known I've done things like threesomes in the past and I'm not opposed to something like this. It's just that you've never once given any indication that you wanted to explore. Until tonight, when you kissed my best friend in the back seat of an Uber, without ever talking to me about it first."
"Fair points all around," he agreed. "It's just, you know I am, I'm hesitant to try things or even bring things up because..."
I finished that for him, just so he knew I understood. "...Because you think too much, and worry about the ramifications. And then once they get started, you don't worry about it. But shit like this you need to talk to me about. Deal?"
"Deal," he answered.
"I'm fine with it by the way. But, I wanna know. Did he have your cock out in the car? Or was he just stroking you through your pants?" It was a bold question, one I might have worded for shock value. But I was legitimately interested and felt I had the right to an answer.
"It was out."
I wanted to push a little. To see how honest he was being with me. Because I was sure I already knew the answer, but I wanted to hear him say it. "If you knew I was into it, would you have let him suck you in the car?"
"Yes," he admitted. "God that woulda been hot."
"Yeah," I admitted too. "It would have." I could see myself doing it to him, now that I know he's open to something a bit more risque. And I could see myself letting Jerry or someone else do it. All in the name of opening him up a bit and getting him to expand his horizons. "Maybe it can still happen some time, but we need to talk about it first. So, how is this gonna work? Same room? Different rooms? Do we stay the night, or go home after?" This was for us to decide. Jerry and Tate had no say in it. It was our way or not at all. Because, as much as I wanted to go up there and climb on Tate again, I would be just as fine going home and climbing on my husband.
"Different rooms right now, and then maybe same room another time if it works out?"
"I'm fine with that too. But, we're talking about all of this tomorrow. Got it?"
"I love you," he responded and leaned in to kiss me every bit as passionately as he had kissed Jerry. Only, I could feel the love and devotion mixed in. When he pulled away he asked, "Tate is hot, right? Are you excited?"
For the briefest of moments I considered telling him the truth behind my history with Tate, but I decided against it. I'd tell him tomorrow.
Jerry’s condo is spacious, one of the outer units, which means the view opened out over the city instead of straight into one of the other towers in the complex. Tate was relaxing on the couch when we entered. Jerry was in the kitchen, pulling out another bottle of wine. I walked right up to him and took the bottle from his hand as Tate and Orin watched from a distance.
"Enough wine for the night," I told him as I set the wine bottle down on the counter and stepped right into his personal space.
"You're my best friend and I love you," I told him, making sure he heard every word. "But. If you ever touch my husband's cock without permission again, you'll regret it. You want his cock, you ask me first. Understood?"
He nodded.
I took his chin in my hand and forced him to look at me. "Ask me, Jerry!" I insisted. If he wanted it, he was going to say it.
"Can I have your husband's cock tonight?"
I thought about how cruel it would have been to deny him that, after making him ask for it, and implying that he did, I would say yes.
"You have a free pass, tonight!" I told him and then did something I didn't expect I would ever do. I leaned in and kissed him. Tongue and all. I drew it out, slipping my tongue into his mouth and accepting his into mine. I have to admit, he's a good kisser. I've always known Jerry was hot, I just never did anything because I was worried about crossing that line and jeopardizing the friendship. But if he's gonna be spending the night with my husband, a kiss is pretty harmless in comparison.
"You two take your room. I'm in the guest room with Tate. But come sunrise, that pass is over. You want it again, you ask!"
I didn't wait for a response. I just turned and walked away, toward Tate. I took his hand and pulled him into the spare room. I figured why wait. Just get it started and avoid any more awkwardness. "Have fun," I told them as I closed the bedroom door.
Tate was standing right there when I turned around. "God, that was so fucking hot," he said before planting his lips on mine and pushing me into the wall. He dropped his head and nuzzled the side of my neck. I closed my eyes and just enjoyed the sensation of his tongue on my skin. "Tate…"
"Shhh." He sucked gently on the spot he’d licked, and I knew he was marking me. A bolt of pure lust shot straight to my cock, which jerked painfully. His hand slid from my hip to cup me through my pants, finally taking full, possessive ownership of my erection. He squeezed, just right, and I moaned, my head falling back.
"Fuck, you’re hard as a rock," he growled into my neck. He rubbed his palm over the head of my cock, the friction felt exquisite even through the layers. "Four years," he said. "Do you know how many times I've thought about this. How bad I've wanted to fuck you again."
I moaned at his words. I may not have thought about him much in the past few years, but now that he's here with his body pressed against mine, I wanted it bad. I wanted him inside me. I wanted him to possess me. Every nerve ending was screaming for him. My mind was a swirl of guilt and desire. Had it been anyone else tonight, I'm not sure I would have gone through with it. I'm not sure I would have forgiven Jerry so easily. But Tate was worth it. And honestly, I liked the idea of my husband opening up a little, for multiple reasons.
His lips met mine again and it was every bit as hot as I remembered. A low groan vibrated from his chest into mine.
He broke the kiss and his hands went to the buttons of my shirt, making quick work of them. He pushed the fabric off my shoulders and let it fall to the floor.
I quickly removed my undershirt as he rid himself of his. His eyes raked over my bare chest. "Still perfect." He bent his head and took one of my nipples into his mouth, sucking hard, his tongue lashing the sensitive tip. The sensation was overwhelmingly intense, a direct line to my cock. He bit down gently, then soothed it with his tongue before moving to the other, giving it the same devastating attention.
His lips met mine again and his hands were on my belt, just as mine were on his. Unbuckling. Unzipping. He shoved my pants and boxers down in one rough motion, freeing my aching cock, which sprang up, ready for action.
I pushed him back on the bed and pulled his pants off him. I kissed my way up his body with my eyes fixated on his perfect uncut cock. I wrapped my hand around the shaft and guided it to my lips. A few strokes and you could see the drip of precum forming. I stuck my tongue out and licked it before taking him in my mouth. I forgot how smooth his cock felt in my hand.
It's like the perfect size. Perfect for sucking and perfect for fucking. Enough girth to give you a little stretch and enough length to get a good stroke game going.
He rolled me onto my back and started to go down my body. He kissed everywhere. "Spread your legs," he commanded.
I obeyed, hooking my knees over my elbows, opening myself completely to his gaze. I felt vulnerable, wanton, and utterly turned on.
"Beautiful," he growled. He climbed onto the bed, crawling up between my thighs. He didn’t go for my cock. He went lower. He gripped my ass cheeks, spreading them, and lowered his head.
The first swipe of his tongue over my hole made me moan. It was hot and wet. He approached eating my ass like a man who was starving for it. He circled the tight ring of muscle before spearing inside with the tip of his tongue.
"Oh god, Tate!"
He ate me out with a single-minded intensity, his tongue plunging in and out, softening me, preparing me. The sounds were obscenely wet, echoing in the quiet room. The pleasure was sharp and dizzying. He added a finger already slick with saliva. He pushed it inside me alongside his tongue. I was writhing with pleasure and pleading for more. I wanted his cock so fucking bad.
He finally pulled back, his chin glistening. He looked up at me, his eyes black with lust. "Are you ready for it?"
"Yes," I gasped.
"You remember how I fuck you?"
"Yes!"
He moved up my body, aligning his cock with my slick, stretched entrance. The broad, hot head nudged against me. He braced himself on his arms above me, his muscles cording. He looked down into my eyes. "This time, I’m not disappearing in the morning." He pushed forward. "You may be married, but this ass is mine now."
"Yes!"
The stretch was immense, breathtaking. He was bigger than I remembered, or maybe it had just been too long. A burn of fullness seared through me as he slowly sank inside. My mouth fell open in a silent cry. He filled me completely, his pelvis coming to rest flush against my ass. We were joined, locked together. He didn’t move, letting me feel every inch, letting my body clutch around him.
"Say it!" he commanded. "Whose ass is this?"
"Yours, Tate! Fuck me!"
"Fuck," he hissed as his composure cracked a little. "You’re so fucking tight. Like a vise." He dropped his forehead to mine, his breath coming in ragged gusts.
"You're a lot fucking bigger than he is," I said through a deep breath. I pulled back a little and then pushed back into him, to let him know I wanted more. I wanted him to fuck me.
Tate let out a deep approving growl at that admission. The comparison was turning him on.
"You Okay?"
"More than okay," I managed. "Move. Tate, Please move. Fuck me!"
He drew back, almost all the way out, the drag sending sparks along my nerves, then surged forward again. A deep and powerful stroke that punched the air from my lungs. The first of many. He set a rhythm, slow and devastatingly deep at first. Each thrust a masterclass in angle and pressure. He found my prostate with masterful accuracy. Pleasure detonated inside me, white-hot and spreading.
"That’s it," he grunted, his pace gradually increasing. "Take it. Take all of me." The room filled with the sounds of sex. The headboard tapped a soft, steady rhythm against the wall. The slap of skin on skin. My choked-off moans. His grunts of pleasure. It was a fucking symphony of sex.
He shifted, hooking my legs over his shoulders, driving even deeper. The new angle had me seeing stars. I was babbling, "Right there, oh fuck, right there, don’t stop!" My cock, trapped between our sweat-slicked stomachs, leaked a steady stream of pre-cum with every thrust.
He was relentless, a fucking machine of pure erotic purpose. His eyes never left mine as sweat dripped from his brow onto my chest. "You gonna come for me, Keith? Just from my cock in your ass?"
"I… I think so," I gasped as I felt the coil winding tight, ready for release.
"Do it," he ordered, his thrusts becoming shorter, harder, focused directly on my prostate. "Come all over yourself. Let me feel you clench around me."
His command, the sensation, the sheer animal dominance of him. It tipped me over. My orgasm ripped through me. A seismic wave of pure ecstasy. My back arched off the bed as I cried out. My cock pulsed, shooting thick ropes of cum that splattered across my stomach and chest. I hadn't cum like that in a long time.
My hole spasmed around his cock, milking him, and that sensation sent him over the edge.
With a raw, guttural roar, he slammed into me one final time and buried himself to the hilt. I felt the pulse of his cock as he released inside me, jet after jet, marking me from the inside.
He collapsed on top of me, with his face buried in my neck as we both shuddered through the aftershocks.
For long minutes, there was only the sound of our labored breathing mingling. Slowly, he softened and slipped out of me. I felt the warm, wet trickle that followed. He rolled to the side and pulled me with him so I was curled against his chest, his arm a heavy band around me.
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