I sit in the shadows across the room as you and your lover snuggle and make out on the couch. I can see our friend's bulge straining at his slacks as your hands roam over each other's bodies. Your kisses are playful and relaxed, but with an underlying, leashed urgency. It has taken you several sessions to teach him how to kiss and make love to you the way you need it.
This is the first time I have been present to watch what I have fantasized about - watching my wife enjoying and being enjoyed by another man, completely and fully. He has been uncomfortable with the idea of me being in the same room, but is gradually easing into it. Eventually, you want both of us men to share you at the same time - give you two mouths, four hands, two bodies, two cocks to play with at once. I stiffen at the mere thought, but for now, we must take it slow, lest our relationship with S. become strained.
I rub myself slowly through my trousers and try to stay calm as I watch him slip one hand under your tight shirt and smooth over your belly, trailing upward to cup one generous handful of left breast. The moan you bury in his mouth sounds delicious. I can see a spreading patch of darker fabric on your loose blue shorts, telling me how very, very wet you are. I can imagine how hot and needy and slippery you must be, to ooze so much nectar. Your arousal is not lost on S. either, but he is content to tease you mercilessly as he sensuously strokes and kisses and nuzzles your neck, face, and other sensitive places, tasting the salt on your clean, warm skin. I know your flavour well.
Your own wandering fingers find the button on his shirt and open it to his navel, pulling the shirttails out of his waistband. You plant little kisses on his chest, nipping gently at his nipples, your hands stroking and playing with the hairs on his chest, and following the 'happy trail' to his groin.
Your lust has made you greedy. No longer content to merely cup his bulge, you begin to open his fly, hungry to feel the heat of his awakened flesh in your hand. Once opened, your hand disappears inside his boxers, beginning a gentle stroking motion and eliciting a heartfelt groan from our friend. I muffle a similar groan as I try to reign in my lust. You are tracing his lips with your tongue.
S. gives in to your call, and slides his wandering, grabby hand down from your breasts across your belly, down your hips, stroking your thighs, and then, on the upstroke, slips his hand inside the leg of your drenched shorts. You gasp as his fingers find your sopping cunt, and he groans with delight at the first touch of the warm, inviting place you have made for him. I am very pleased that you have started getting so turned on again! Rarely since we were teenagers have you gotten so soggy and lubricated. I am thankful to S. for helping bring back the teenager inside you, if nothing else. Wonderful!
I watch as in a dream as you cum from his caresses, bearing down and gasping as his fingers stroke and probe your soft, sweet pussy. After three climaxes, you grasp his wrist and pull his hand to your mouth so you can suck the slick juice from his fingers. You kiss him, sharing your taste with him before kneeling on the floor before him, pulling your scrunched-up shirt over your head. You want to taste his juice now.
He obligingly lifts his feet so you can remove his socks, and raises his hips to allow for the removal of his slacks as you, almost as in a ritual, prepare to suck his cock. The fat head of his member peeks out from the fly of his tented boxers, drooling precum. You told me about how much he leaks, and how good he tastes. Now I see that at least the volume wasn't an exaggeration. You look into his face as you slip your hands into the waistband of his boxers and tug them down over his hips and off, leaving him in his opened, black, long-sleeved shirt.
You grasp his fat, leaking tool in one hand, stroking it gently up and down, while the other hand strokes his thighs, belly, and lingers briefly at his groin, cupping his balls. You look over your shoulder at where I sit in shadow, and give me a smile, your eyes glazed with lust. You pretty little Slut. You lick your lips and turn away, bending down to the task at hand. You lick slowly from the base to the tip, cleaning the rivulets of clear, sticky juice from his veiny cock. Your free hand creeps down to caress the needy folds of your squishy cunt as you enjoy a mouthful of hot, drippy manhood.
What a sight you are! Dressed only in very loose, very damp blue shorts, kneeling on the floor in front of our couch, your fingers stroking your inflamed cunt while you make mewling, lusty sounds, your hungry mouth full of the rigid, tasty erection of a man not your husband. I want nothing better than to pull down your shorts and bury my face in the sopping fur and flesh of your steaming crotch. The room is full of the musky scent of intensely aroused woman. And I love it.
