My wife is slutty, and she knows I love it endlessly. I write these stories for her alone. Some of it might be true, some of it might not. You will never know.
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His phone buzzed with a new text.
"Ok. It's on."
"He's getting drinks at the bar to take up."
Then ten second later, "Knows you will be joining... says he's down."
David's stomach fluttered. The electricity was amplified even more from the hardness straining against his pants as he felt the lightening shoot up from his middle to his spine and up to his forehead. He felt dizzy for just a split second, like he might fall off the bar stool upon which he was perched.
He pictured his wife Elle of many years sitting in an anonymous booth in the non-descript Marriott Marquee Times Square hotel lobby bar, across the street from where he was sidled up at a touristy Irish pub. He pictured her, with her long blond hair, small waist, curvy hips, and long legs, getting up to greet someone whom she hadn't seen in nearly two decades. Antony. Her former lover. A long term fling with whom she was fucking (among several) at the time David had met Elle all those years ago in the City. He visualized the man visiting her this evening, the athletic, bald, good looking trip guide she'd met after booking a spur of the moment bike adventure across the picturesque countryside of Austria.
He was able to visualize what their greeting might look like, her eyes twinkling, perhaps the awkward embrace, his good looking features highlighted by his bald head, simply because he had seen her former lover in sordid pictures Antony had taken of the two of them locked in passionate poses all those many years ago.
Pictures. Apparently that was his thing. And as she told it, she was captivated by it, enraptured by his abrupt direction of how to pose, where to position herself, how to take his cock before the camera went off. Fueling what was a fiercely erotic relationship not connected so much by emotions and intimacy but by unbridled passion and pure enjoyment for sex with each other.
David saw their passion in the pictures she'd shared with him after they first realized long ago they shared a similar kink, her love of reminiscing about old lovers, and his passion for directing her sexual energy to bring out her true naughty side.
Pictures. David had poured over them countless times. It fueled his personal fantasies of her. In his mind, he was able to trace every line, every curve of her body in every single picture. He knew what she'd been thinking in each moment by the look in her eyes, the way her body was positioned, the way her lips were parted. Pictures. He saw her posed visually like the amateur pictures he saw in dirty magazines of his youth, but these were of his beautiful wife. The eroticism that shot through him when he looked at them was off the charts.
Pictures. These artifacts, and the corresponding memories, of her former lover had brought them countless hours of erotic fun over the years. She'd had more orgasms than either of them could count as he'd coaxed her into reminiscing about how much she enjoyed the size of his big cock, how much she relished being bent over into his favorite doggy position, and how it turned her on that he used to boss her around in bed.
David's mind raced as he thought about those many moments between them before her body lost control to an oncoming orgasm, where she'd voice things like "his dick was so thick my hand barely fit around it," or "sometimes he would follow me into the shower, even after he'd already fucked me two or three times," or "his dick was so big sometimes I couldn't breath when I was blowing him."
This was the man she was now standing up to greet in the hotel bar across the street from where he was currently sitting.
He was immeasurably turned on.
He pictured them sitting at a table, Elle batting her eyes coyly, flirting, reconnecting after all those years, talking about the mundane things people discuss when they haven't seen each other in a while. "How are things? What are you doing for work these days? Are you still biking regularly?"
But in his reptilian brain, he fantasized about them descending to a conversation about their very sexual past. He knew that while they weren't compatible much socially or emotionally, they shared a very hot sexual connection that usually meant she was naked and being fucked against a wall or pushed into bed within minutes of them arriving at one another's apartments. They never officially dated. It was somewhat occasional and casual. But David knew she liked his cock.
He looked down at this phone, lingering on the text thread.
"Ok. It's on"
So, they were leaving to go upstairs to fuck... which meant by definition they HAD to have ended up in a conversation about sex.
He wondered how it had started? Would one of them have brought up a flirty time they hooked up? Was that all it would take to get the conversation going? Would they have taken a trip down memory lane together, getting hotter by the second? Would she have brought up their first steamy night together in a stairwell in a hostel in Austria?
Then he looked at the final text in the thread.
"Knows you will be joining... says he's down."
How would she have broached the subject of a threesome? David and Elle had discussed just coming right out and asking, if she felt the timing was right, but David knew so many factors had to fall in place at exactly the right moment. The right number of cocktails. The right stories about their sexual times together. The right references to the passionate connection of the past.
Or...maybe it was just as simple as asking it he wanted to fuck her in a threesome with her husband. Antony was married after all, and if he'd agreed to the meet up with her at the hotel bar in the first place, there was already the implicit expectation there might be something illicit on the horizon. David knew sex was the first thing on the mind of the male reptilian brain given the invitation from an old lover.
Maybe it really was that simple.
They had planned for any one of three scenarios. Perhaps the chemistry would no longer be there, and Elle and Antony would part ways with nothing more than a shared drink and a laugh. Even so, the upside was material for endless orgasms to be enjoyed later as David fucked her, making her fantasize about what might have been.
Or, if the sexual spark did indeed ignite, Elle might chicken out on pushing for the idea of a threesome, or perhaps Antony wouldn't go for it. In that case, she had license to choose to go up alone with him to the room. David said for years that if she had the opportunity to fuck him one more time, she was more than welcome to just let it happen. It's not like his dick hadn't been in her before, so what was the harm after fantasizing about it all these year. Afterward, David and Elle could look forward to making each other come endlessly for years with the descriptive memory of her evening.
But the scenario they both hoped for was that upon her coyly offering the opportunity for a threesome with her and her husband, he'd willfully accept. After all, if he was going to cheat on his wife for an old lover, he might as well just go all in for an epic experience. Or at least, that was the line she was going to use to try to convince him. That and, "you only live once."
The phone buzzed one more time on the bar.
"ok headed upstairs. C u in a bit 😊"
Apparently Antony didn't need a lot of convincing on the subject.
David ordered one more Manhattan from the bartender, looked at his watch, and gave himself 10 minutes. 10 minutes to finish this drink, walk across the street to the Marquee, take the elevator to his floor, and head to their room. The room to which at this very moment his wife was headed with her hot former lover.
He could barely contain his excitement. He stared at the brown liquid in his drink, fussing with the cherry buried in the ice, sipping it to try to make the time go faster, ignoring the growing crowd around him. Finally, he tossed back the drink, paid the man, and headed across the street.
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The elevator doors opened heavily and he stepped into the hallway, walking cooly down the long passage. After what seemed an eternity, he stopped in front of room 1009. Their room. He paused, wondering if he'd hear any noises coming from the pair inside. He heard what sounded like a giggle and a muffled moan, but couldn't quite make it out. His cock was straining against his pants, his stomach in knots, and his heart pounding, drowning out his ability to hear clearly. He pulled the key card from his pocket and slid it across the sensor, hearing the electronic beep and the lock disengage.
He pushed open the heavy door slowly, peering around as he did so. The sight nearly knocked his breath away.
He couldn't believe how sexy it looked in real life, after having imagined it for so many years. In a chair sat Antony, still clothed but zipper down, his legs splayed out in front of him, his bald head looking down, his piercing dark eyes locked intensely on Elle. There, on her knees between Antony's legs, was his wife, her head bobbing up and down, sliding her delicate, sexy mouth over his giant dick. Her hand pumped between the base of his big cock and her lips as she expertly twisted it while using her mouth up and down his thick manhood.
As they both heard the door close, Elle glanced to the side, locking eyes with her husband, still maintaining the rhythm of her blowjob. She was, after all, definitely a pro. She wasn't startled in the least, and seemed very comfortable in the moment. The twinkle in her eyes said it all...she was enjoying herself immensely. Then David and Antony's eyes crossed, and they simply nodded to each other. No words were really necessary. No introductions. This was just about pleasure, flesh, and fantasy.
