The Husbands' Lady

I.

The art exhibition at the warehouse-studio in the boroughs is in full swing. I'm looking across the room with my husband next to me. The moment comes out of the ether. Everything moves from the past to the present. It's the moment we meet her.

Her hair is in a curly-shag cut, a style I've always liked on women. Her knee-length dress is tasteful, and her makeup seems minimal. Maybe she isn't wearing any at all. The soft outline of her jaw intersects at an angle with her hair just right to make me keep looking at it. It's all as balanced a composition as some of the better paintings on the walls.

He and I are both dressed with that touch of urbanity to show everyone we're sophisticated guests. He's already turned back around next to me after watching her, talking from the side, saying he sees her and knows just like I know. He says I'd be the better one to go talk with her. She's younger and might relate more to a guy my age.

I get my break of daylight, if you will, when the person she's next to has to take a phone call. The first thing I ever say to her is a blur, but soon enough we're discussing how we know the artists, how interesting this space is, and so forth. Neither of us is having anything to drink. I already count this as a big plus. I'm a teetotaler, and here in the city, that can mark you as a weirdo. She's smiling at me directly. She's sultry.

Right at the correct moment, my husband comes on over to say hello, and I introduce him as such without hesitation. I have this hunch. Her eyes follow both of us, but everything else in her expression stays the same. There seems to be something in the air suddenly, and my mind is racing because I think I know what it is.

We join in and branch off into other conversations, and the whole get-together is enjoyable. Our chat with her continues. Later on, all three of us are standing near a makeshift ledge in another gallery hall. My man glances at me quickly and then says he recognizes someone he needs to say hello to, as he's a friend of his boss.

When we're finally alone, I offer to take her back to our place. I can guess it's cool to be this direct. She says she's ready. He's talking with his friend, but he sees me again as he's looking over his shoulder. I nod once. The entire operation is a masterpiece, but I still attribute our success to her being such an amazing target. When two men want a woman together, she usually doesn't stand much of a chance.

We're soon headed out in my husband's car. I decide to be a gentleman by sitting in the backseat to keep our lady guest company. I don't think even a minute passes before we're kissing and groping. He looks in the rear-view mirror, watching as she's already straddling me, kissing me deeply, while I tell her in a low voice how I know she's fucked herself for years lusting after gay men, hasn't she? She admits rubbing one out regularly, using toys, and sometimes getting pounded by straight men but secretly wishing they were gay. My hands are up in her dress as she's grinding right over my throbbing dick in my pants. There's no underwear on any of us. I rub into the moisture of her labia and then massage her firm, round ass. My beard is getting licked and nibbled on, my ears filled with her tongue, along with my mouth dancing with hers in a series of kisses as we watch a line of drool stretch out between us. Traffic is heavy, so he takes time to look on in astonishment as his man crosses every line possible with a lovely woman.

Everything is moving more quickly as we approach our apartment. We get home and head directly to our bed, our clothes pulled off along the way, more kissing ensuing as she's sandwiched between us two taller, well-built fellows. We're both whispering in her ear about how two gay guys are just what she needs. She moans that her dreams have come true, and I reply by telling her I knew her pussy blasted out a bunch of pheromones when I introduced my husband. We engage in a three-way kiss as each tongue slobbers onto the others. My man takes some of the spit and smears it on our two dicks and her aching, searing-hot pussy. He's entering her from above and behind. The angle seems comfortable for both of them. I coach her through it, watching her close her eyes and enter the world of our gay love. I tell her it's going to be a long, hard journey of brutal fucks from my man. I'm joining in a lot. We're nice guys, but we're no-nonsense. She nods.

The defining moment happens when my mind, thinking of nothing and feeling everything, guides me to take my cock and push it into her right alongside his. We're already adapted to frotting, but this is obviously on another level. Her eyes stay closed, and she isn't even shocked. This is another dream of hers we will fulfill. My husband isn't surprised, either. This is what should happen, and that's why it's happening.

My cock slowly finds the right place, the right opening, and the right slack in her cunt. I do it in this particular manner out of respect but also to show off just a bit and make the experience even more mind-blowing for her. She moves slightly, and there's that opportunity. I grip her lean waist and just push inward and upward. All three of us shout. My husband and I are witnessing a woman being filled with two gay cocks.

The fucking starts in earnest. There are periods of silence as we all take in the experience. My kissing with her is completely off the chain. It's just about as hot as the best moments with my man. There are bursts of sex talk. She goes off about her needs, her desires, everything, and we relate how we've craved a woman for a while. We tell her she can stay here when she likes. We decide to do this every day we can. We grind our dicks into her with no restraint, asking her if that sensation helps her reconsider and decide to just stay here full time. It works.

There's a series of position changes so she can take in our dicks from different angles. Sometimes I'm the base and he serves as the mover, and other times we are both on our sides pushing straight in, her pussy making the sloppiest sounds as she lies on her back and grinds down on us. I hardly need to point out how many times we all cum. I lose count, and soon it all just mixes together anyway. It dawns on me that we haven't used lube and that it's the easiest double penetration I've ever heard of. I always thought DP was something that sounded great in theory but was often difficult or impossible in practice, but that's not how it goes for us. It's as if we're all made for each other. I rejoice in silence for these things, wondering where else eternity will take me.

We don't leave the bed until the sun rises the next morning. I offer to accompany her if she wants to pick up some stuff at her place to bring back, and she accepts. My man stays behind. In her cramped studio in a prewar walk-up, we just chat more about our lives and jobs as she gathers clothing and other items. She's got that classy yet natural vibe to her, just like me. Well-dressed but ready to pull it all off at a moment's notice.

Upon returning home, I see him freshly bathed, asleep, so we just shower together before joining him. There's all manner of kissing and teasing. I turn to hold her against me as the jet of water sprays onto us, and I kiss her forehead protectively. I don't say it, but I know inside that my dream has come true, too.

My husband wakes up a bit before we do. He snaps a picture of us sleeping, which he texts to me later. I'm on my side, my hairy arms around her as she's facing me and resting closely against my chest. Some of the beautiful strands of her hair are spread on the bed. He captions it with a label referring to us as lovebirds. I keep looking at it all the time, aching.

II.

It's the most satisfying sex imaginable, and it's all we ever need. Every night, both the husband and I are rushing to get back from our jobs, knowing our dicks grinding and splattering against each other inside of her wet, pulsating cunt are what awaits us.

My routine is to bust my ass all day working, take the subway home, and barely get the door to our apartment closed before the two of them are pulling my clothes off as we make it to the bedroom. In the course of one evening, I'll often suck dick and eat pussy right next to each other, get sucked off by one or both of them, fuck her myself, double penetrate her with my man, and then eat out two or more loads from her. I've spat my husband's cum into her and fucked her with that, then fed the slop I made with my own cum in her back to him and spat it into her mouth, too. We've spent evenings with both our mouths slurping on her vagina and clit, the entire point being to make her moan and yell, which we've accomplished. Afterward, another round of DP. We're all so turned on by this shit that we have the energy to work full-time and come home to do this essentially every night. I'm thin from barely even having time to eat because all I can think about is my husband's cock against mine inside this incredible woman we're in love with and caring for. Some days it's just coffee and a vitamin. The other component of my diet comes from eating pussy. I'm often positioning myself so my nose can get up in her vagina and take in that smell. I've lost count of how many loads I've eaten out of her. I get fuck-licked, where he laps at her pussy while I'm going in her solo, and I do the same for him and enjoy the mixed male-female grunting and hearing the noises of their lovemaking. We have a bottle of lube but have almost never needed it. She's that juicy. Our spit suffices for the rest.

When we are done, we collapse into bed. Her lithe, supple body rests between us two bald, bearded, hairy men. Most often, she drifts back into the same position with her facing me as I hold her closely against my chest. We wake up in the very early morning hours and need to go at it again. It's those times when the passion emerges. Both of us tell her we will never let her go. She says she loves us. Our dicks make her pussy cream as she gets talked through another orgasm. We bust raw. The cream, juice, and cum mix together, and usually I just go down on her to eat it.

The weekends are less sexual than one would think. Sure, we'll spend some mornings fucking hard, but often we go out to visit a park or see one of the museums in the city. Another good friend is in the art show business, and we go out to support him sometimes. When we visit a restaurant or an event, I'll often hold her hand or put my arm around her while my man looks on with happiness and pride. He's confided to me that he loves seeing this. After initially being surprised, she and I have eased into it. I have to admit that I feel a surge of masculine confidence with a lady by my side. A few times we've been complimented as an adorable couple, and I still cherish the looks of amazement we receive when I introduce my husband and explain our set-up. Single people and couples of all types have all been nothing but kind.

We have a great dynamic. I'm the sweetheart, kissing and attending to her a lot. My husband is a stoic guy and kisses her body along with me but doesn't really kiss her mouth. He kissed her on Valentine's Day, and he later said it felt terrific, but I don't press the issue, as it's his choice. Our woman knows that behind me, it's the uncompromising hardness of my man. That's how it works. I'll ask her how he feels inside her as she is groaning and crying out at the pleasure caused by his cockhead up in her wet cervix. I remind her there's no turning back. It's what she wants, and it's going to keep happening.

It's been months since I've come into my own hand. I don't pay much attention to asses anymore, and the three of us just never even think of doing anal. What else can compare to slippery, raw vaginal sex? A gay man is as motivated by that as anyone else is. At least, that's my opinion.

Her pussy is the answer to everything. For our first wedding anniversary, we went back and forth in a train fuck and DP session lasting most of the afternoon, explaining to each other how she is the anniversary gift. Our gay love is superior to anything a straight couple can feel. She's a piece of property for us. Those sorts of comments. I'd fuck her while kissing my husband passionately and staring into her eyes as she watched. I often think of her trembling pussy as she heard all of this while being fucked. For Valentine's Day, I bought a dozen long-stem roses that she put in a vase when I got home. My husband hadn't arrived yet. Our kissing was incredible. We were getting each other naked right there in the kitchen, like a couple of college students exploring each other for the first time. I was back against the counter, with her unbuttoning my shirt and rubbing my cock while my hands cupped her lovely breasts. He showed up soon after and took both of us in his arms for a hot kiss. It was a long night of sex.

As for the rest of our daily routine, we are up before dawn to start the day. We prefer to all shower together, but she has her own bathroom whenever she'd like to use it. Before we leave for work, we all make a point of exchanging long, deep, loving kisses with full-body hugs. Then we have a warm group kiss and hug. It cements our shared affection. It also provides a rush of endorphins and many beneficial compounds for the brain and body. I go out into the world every morning with my heart in the sky. Then another 10 to 12 hours of work pass until I get back, but it keeps me keen. I wear a nice suit to work each day. For my lunch break, I do a quick treadmill run and lift weights. My leg routine is brutal, giving me the muscular drive to perform when it's time to do so at home. Maybe I'll hit up a work social event or do professional networking, but no one else knows the extent to which this marriage and this woman consume every free waking moment I have. Her cunt is a gateway to a universe filled with joy.

I live my life immersed in female pheromones. I get a secret thrill out of going to work so I spread them around. Managers, colleagues, and visiting clients all get a whiff. I'm scrupulously clean, and there's no scent left behind. It's subconscious. The pheromones are soothing and life-affirming. I don't wear underwear, so my crotch and taint are giving these out with almost nothing to impede them. I also have them all over my mouth, beard, and body hair, too. One time I helped a guy at work with a personal issue by just asking some thought-provoking questions I read about in a self-help book. He thanked me, saying he had never felt calmer. The questions guided him well, but her pussy juice molecules were likely crucial. In addition, my interactions with women at work are suffused with upbeat friendliness.

Some of my coworkers remark to me that I'm looking better by the day. They ask what my motivation is. I just explain that it's all about good self-care and healthy relationships. Indeed. Then I overhear one guy talking about his problems with dating. I don't have those anymore. I actually don't have any problems at all, now that I bother to even stop and think about it. Why be so worked up over things that aren't her pussy with my cock along with my husband's cock firmly rammed balls deep inside? I just smile and go on with my day, knowing where it's all going to lead back to.

III.

Things are still going great. Something that's evolved is what she and I do when we are alone. There's a big project at my husband's job that often requires him to stay late. He used to just text me to start without him, but it's such a regular thing that we agreed he should just get home when he gets home. He can then jump right into what we are up to.

Sometimes it's a short delay, and I'll be kissing and eating her out when he arrives. Most often, we'll be sixty-nining in bed. I'll be hungrily sucking on her whole vulva with her legs wide open as I grunt like an animal and my dick is crammed down her throat. He quickly strips and approaches us. I get my slicked-up cock into her dripping pussy and do some fucking to get her opened. He uses my spit and her pussy juice to then penetrate her with me in another hot DP that gets her coming even more.

The level of activity has gotten more intense with the longer delays. There's one incident I just can't stop thinking about. I arrive home one night, and we start to make out again. She asks me if I'd role play as a straight husband trying to conceive a baby with her. She doesn't have to ask twice. We disrobe and shower together, and the water cascades over her soft breasts and gorgeous hips. She blows my mind every time.

We're in bed, and I'm pounding away at her sweet cunt. Her legs are entwined around my body. I'm sharing with her how beautiful it's going to be for us to hold our little one. I feel my dick making it to her cervix and stimulating the production of more juices. I hope, as a man with only a rudimentary understanding of the intricacies of fertility, that I'm getting her ready to conceive. Her hands are running through my dense body hair. I tell her I'm going to use my cum to go in even harder and push in still more cum. I want her pregnant so badly.

Our mouths are joined in the wettest, sloppiest kiss either of us has ever had. I can feel her climax building up. She's going on about how much she wants me to breed her, how much she knows I need and want her. We groan together. We are both close to making it. The fucking is so pleasurable that I just want us to stay in this state forever. I cry out that I love being her husband. I want to slam into her pussy non-stop to get this baby made. I grab onto the headboard for maximum leverage to make the bed really shake. I'm saying over and over again that she's my wife and we're going to have children together. She keeps moaning louder. My mind focuses on my dick getting ready to explode with so much cum. Every drop of it will go to the depths of her uterus and fallopian tubes. Suddenly, she gasps as she feels someone's lips on her legs, and I feel someone's hands on my back. It's my husband, his clothes arranged in a trail on the floor. He tells us he can hear us in the hallway. We're the lovebirds. He enjoys the sounds of our fucking.

He puts his throbbing cock in her underneath mine, squatting back behind me. He leans forward to kiss her. They don't do this a whole lot, but I'm so turned on by him giving her more direct affection. She's clearly hot for him. Who doesn't feel joy seeing a quiet, tough alpha show his softer side?

It isn't long before another intense orgasm happens between the three of us. We shout and grunt in near disbelief that our sex is this satisfying. The semen flows with the slippery vaginal juice in a river of love.