Zs First Time

Z and I had been married for about three years and had sort of stumbled onto the fact that talking about having other men fuck her while we were making love was a big turn-on for both of us. She had done some flashing for strangers at my request from our very first date, and a little more than flashing on a few occasions, letting someone we didn't know touch her tits, even allowing them to put their fingers inside her vagina. And then we found out it was fun to have her flirt with people we knew, brushing her tits against them, letting them see down her blouse or up her dress, even letting them know, by a look, that we knew they had seen them do it, so that they would know she was doing it on purpose.

That had started with her being obviously aroused and us having a great session in bed after we had been out with other couples where there was a little friendly flirting going on. It was always the playful kind of thing you do among friends, not serious, but real. One night while I was fucking her I mentioned that a relatively new friend, Tom, who was a contractor doing some work on an extensive renovation of an old Victorian we had bought, had been coming on to her a little more than usual. She surprised me by saying out loud what I was thinking – "I know. I think he wants to fuck me."

I was instantly hot, and followed up by asking, "Would you want to do it?"

But she wiggled off the hook with, "He really wants it and that's flattering." But she hadn't denied that she would want to.

I was surprised at my own reaction, but I was also nearly ready to explode with the thought of her opening up her legs for Tom, and I could feel myself getting ready to cum in her, so I pressed on, asking, "You do want to do it don't you?"

"Would you want me to?" She was lifting her hips to meet my thrusts, and she was suddenly as slippery as I had felt her in a while, obviously liking the fantasy.

"Yes, I'd like you to do it. Would you?"

"I want to," She gasped, and as she said it she came as hard as she ever had, and I was about three strokes behind, pumping a huge load into her. As soon as we had caught our breath and I had rolled off and spooned her, she pulled the plug, "It was just a fantasy, you know."

"You came pretty hard for it, though." She didn't say anything.

And that was it for a couple of weeks, but I couldn't get it out of my mind. Every time we made love I thought of it but didn't want to bring it up because I didn't know what her reaction would be and didn't want to press her too far, too fast, because I really knew now that I wanted to have her take another man, and to watch it happen.

A couple of weeks later we were again out with our usual group, and I made sure to invite Tom, who was still working on our house. Having seen him look at Z as he went about his contracting duties, I was pretty sure he wanted her. At this outing, once again, Tom's attentions amounted to a little more than the usual casual flirting. And I noticed that Z was allowing a little more of it, being a little more explicit in her replies and responses, although still relaxed – not explicit enough to arouse much attention from the others, although I noticed the difference – a little more tension, a touch more acceptance, more slightly nervous laughter.

About half way through the evening I caught her looking over at me and then glancing away right after she had been looking at Tom, talking and laughing with him. She did it again a few minutes later, and this time I thought she looked a little flushed, like she does when she's hot for sex. A little later Tom asked her to dance – no big thing in this group – and they were gone for three numbers. I caught glimpses of them on the floor, and there was nothing out of the ordinary that was too obvious, but maybe his hands were on her waist a half a second too long and a couple of inches too high, so that his wrists grazed the undersides of her breasts, on some of the turns. I thought he might have brushed her bottom once or twice, too. No big deal; we were all friends. But when she got back to the table I saw the unmistakable signs of arousal: slightly reddened cheeks, flushed chest above the top of her blouse, a little more laughter than usual, and a couple of furtive sidelong glances at me.

But that was it. Nothing more happened. We went home and got into bed. It was very late, later than usual, maybe 2:00 AM before we turned out the light, and usually she fades after midnight, so I'm used to having her fall asleep without sex, even after being at a club, if we're out that long, so I just snuggled her. After a minute or two, she rolled on her back and sort of did a little jerk – a shake, a kind of silent pout. I asked her what was wrong and she said, "Aren't you interested tonight?"

Of course I was, and immediately slid down and separated her legs to lick her opening, her favorite beginning. I was shocked at how wet she was, how good her cunt smelled with all her juices running, how slippery she was as I put my fingers up inside her. She was even more into the licking than usual, and a little noisier about it. I suspected that her heightened state of arousal was due at least in part to the time dancing and flirting with Tom, of course, but instead of jealousy I found myself unbelievably aroused.

I slid up over her on the bed and positioned my cock at the opening of her vagina, rubbing her clitoris with the bulb. She moaned, tossed her head to the side and back, eyes closed, and pulled her legs back by putting her arms inside her knees and holding herself open.

"You want it, don't you?" I asked as I rubbed the tip of my member on her gaping hole, which was so wet I could feel her juices running down her inner thighs and into her anus.

"Yes." Her head tossed again side to side and she humped up a little trying to invaginate herself. "Put it in."

"Not yet." I wanted her to ache for it – I had an idea. She tossed her head again and exhaled hard, bucking her hips up a little as if to protest. I pulled back and she shook a little in frustration. I rubbed the entire underside of my shaft from tip to base up along her spread-open labia and along her clitoris.

"Oh, God," she moaned. It was involuntary. She wanted it in – she was as hot as I'd ever seen her, and I was ready for it, but I also knew she was hot because of Tom as much as me. And that made me both a little jealous and horribly aroused; it was a delicious and confusing mixture of emotions.

"You want it in you?" I asked again.

"Yes, put it in," she said, a little more insistently. I poised the tip of my cock right at her opening, and she made a little moan and lifted her hips, almost imperceptibly, to take the stroke, but again I changed the angle so that instead of plunging it into her cunt I slid it up along her slippery parted lips and over her pink button, which was engorged and protruding enough for me to feel it. She groaned, half in desire, half in frustration, and made a little involuntary shudder. She was ready.

"I'll put it in if you'll answer one question for me. And you have to be completely honest. OK?"

"OK. What?" Her question had been a bark; she was writhing under me now, over the edge, not just wanting it, but needing it, and she was impatient to be fucked...

"You have to answer without thinking about it. If you hesitate for an instant we're done for the night and you don't get to cum." As if I could have done that – I was about to shoot my load as it was. But she was over the top by now, and I was pretty sure she would answer anything I asked her, and do it truthfully, without thinking, just to get my cock inside her. Or maybe any cock. "You'll tell the truth, no matter what I ask?"

"Yes! What is it? Put it in me!" She sounded almost desperate, and her body said that too – she was as hot as I had ever felt her, sopping wet between her legs, out of control, lifting her hips plaintively to be filled.

"You ready?" I poised the bulb of my cock over the entrance to her vagina again, holding it with my hand so she couldn't thrust her hips up and swallow it, but this time I let just part of the crown separate her labia and I rocked her a little by letting her feel the whole corolla start to penetrate, before backing off. She was wild for it, thrashing, bucking, unable to control her body.

"Yes! Fuck me! Please fuck me!"

"Ready for your question?"

"Yeees. What is it?" She drew out the 'Yes'; it wasn't an answer, it was a plea – she was aching for it now.

"Answer instantly?"

"Yeees."

"You want to be fucked now?"

"Yeees!"

"You want a cock in you?"

"Yeees!"

"You want Tom's cock in you?"

"Yeees!"

A jolt surged through me – I wasn't entirely sure she had heard and understood the question, but if she had I might have what I wanted. I put the tip of my penis against her vaginal opening and started to slide it in, but again tipped it so the stroke was external, sliding along her sopping slit, her clitoris a hard, wet bump. She bucked and writhed in obvious frustration and desire.

"You said you'd put it in." It was an almost desperate complaint, and she rolled her hips trying to catch the tip of my cock inside the folds of her labia so she could drive up on my shaft herself, but I took my penis in my hand again to guard against her getting it in.

"You said you wanted to let Tom fuck you. Is that it? Do you want Tom to fuck you instead of me? Is that what you're thinking about? Is it Tom's cock you want inside you?"

"Yeees." She was breathless.

"You want Tom to fuck you? You were thinking about him?

"Yeees. I can't help it." I could tell she was telling the truth. "I was so hot for it tonight, and I think he wants me."

"Yes, I think so, too. You want to do it?" She was bucking under me so hard now that my penis was sliding along her clitoris every time she lifted her hips, and I was afraid she's cum and I'd lose the hold I had over her, so I pulled back all the way and positioned the tip of my cock right at the opening of her vagina, and matched her strokes, pulling back every time she thrust up so that she couldn't get it in, and I held her wrists over her head so she could reach down and do it herself. "I think I want you to fuck Tom if you get this hot for it. Will you?"

"If you want me to." She accepted it so easily.

"I do. Will you do it?"

"Yes, I'll do it." She bucked again.

"When?"

"Whenever you want me to." Gasping now, she continued to grind her hips up, sensing that now that her secret was out she would get what she needed.

And with that I put the crown of my penis at her sopping gate and gave her the whole shaft of my cock in one stroke, all the way to the bottom of her cunt. She rose up to take it with a tremulous moan, desire mixed with relief. I pounded her cunt as hard as I ever had, and she reciprocated, slamming her cunt up to meet each stroke, splaying her legs open to give me maximum penetration, her soft, undulating whimpering telling me all I needed to know about her heightened state of arousal.

"I'm going to ask him to fuck you next weekend, and I'm going to watch you do it. You'll be a good slut and spread yourself wide open for him, won't you?"

"Yes!"

"No hesitation – when I tell you to open yourself for it you give him the whole thing instantly, look him in the eye and show him wet pink – no being coy. Take his cock inside your cunt and let him fuck you. Do a good job, be a good slut for him, and for me."

"I will." It was a hoarse whisper. She was bucking and thrusting, thrashing and tossing.

"And you'll cum for him, won't you? A big one, so he knows you want it."

"Yeees!" And with that she heaved her hips up and exploded in a huge orgasm. In reply to her thrust, my cock unloaded inside her with the biggest stream I had ever spent, pulsing over and over as my semen shot into her womb.

When it was over, as I cuddled her, I whispered to her, "I'm going to do it, you know, make you fuck Tom. You want to and we both know it. And I want to see you do it. Are you going to do it when I tell you to?"

"If you want me to."

"I do."

"OK, I will, then. I promise." They were her last words as she fell asleep.

The next morning we said nothing about it, but that evening I broached it again, saying, "You ready for the thing with Tom on Saturday?

"Are you sure you really want this, Larson? It's a nice fantasy, but I'm not sure I would really like it. Or that you would." I found myself really disappointed in her answer, and frustrated, realizing now how much I wanted to see another man fuck her.

"OK," I replied. "We'll see then." I didn't want to press too hard because I didn't want to scare her off, but I really craved the kind of sexual passion she had displayed the previous night and I was determined to see it happen.

I mentioned it only a couple of other times during the week, once very casually while I was fucking her, but was a little worried about pressing it. What I noticed is that her cunt really got wet as soon as I started talking about her having to open her legs for Tom someday, and she came almost instantly when I did. I wondered if she was feeling my dick or thinking about his.

Finally Saturday arrived. We had made plans to go out again, and Z had made the arrangements. I was interested that she had chosen to go to dinner and a jazz club with a group we knew, and she had heard me when I had casually invited Tom on Wednesday, when I deliberately got home a little early so he would still be working at the house. Her choice of the place suggested that she was hoping something would happen – it was a kind of funky blues joint. At least that's what I hoped. And I knew I would try to find a way to get her to fuck Tom that night if I could. I just didn't know how.

On the way to dinner I introduced the topic again. "You were sure hot for it last Saturday while we were fucking, while we were talking about Tom."

"It was nice," was all she said. But that was an understatement; we had both had the biggest orgasms of our time together – of our lives – in a hot session after the night out with the group, after her dancing with Tom, after our fantasy about letting Tom fuck her.

She didn't look at me as the car moved through traffic, but just stared out the window. She shifted her legs, crossing her left over her right and tugging down on her skirt. She had dressed nicely, in a skirt and blouse, rather than in the blue jeans and shirt we usually wore to these get-togethers with the group. I had also noticed that she had put on a camisole instead of a bra, and it showed, since you could just see the outline of her nipples under the silk blouse, and her breasts jiggled just a little. She isn't very big – 34B – but she has nice tits and it was nice to see them move under her blouse. And both the camisole and the blouse were a little loose at the top – if she leaned forward you could see all the way to her nipples, and I had seen as I had held the car door for her that they were erect, and not because of the temperature – it was warm out.

I had also seen her put on her garter belt and stockings instead of panty hose, something she did for me when we were going to have a hot night, and she had put on her loose-fitting red silk tap pants over her garter belt instead of wearing panties. She looked nice under her skirt. She had on heels too. She was a drop-dead knockout, dressed to the nines and cock bait for sure – not slutty, but definitely looking on the make. She wasn't acting like she was hot for me right now, though; she wasn't talking and looked determinedly out the window.

"Tom will be there again tonight," I offered, trying to steer the conversation toward what I was hoping for, I wanted to know if she would do it, or else learn unambiguously that it wasn't going to happen tonight – either way I'd know how to act. No answer. But I could see her nipples were still hard. Was she a little flushed? I let it go.

When we got there the usual group had already arrived, and Tom was there. There were eight of them, and they waved us over to the two tables they had pulled together. The band was just setting up and we sat down to order drinks and dinner. Tom was across the table from us, one person to Z's right. I was on Z's left. She said hello to him, but then started a conversation with one of the women across from me. She ignored Tom entirely. Too much, I thought; she was trying too hard. It was the first sign that she might go for it. The band started to warm up. Tom didn't know the others well, but was talking to the woman on his left. But he would occasionally glance sideways at Z. I wasn't sure Z would do it, but I was certain Tom wanted it. Men know it when another guy is attracted to their wife.

It took a while, but after dinner and a couple of drinks, and a little over an hour and a half, there was a break in the set and conversation picked up. Z still didn't talk to Tom, or even look over at him. A couple of the women got up to go to the bathroom and Z went with them. Three of the guys went to the bar for another round of drinks for everybody, and Bill and his wife went to check with their baby-sitter. Tom and I were alone at the table. I had to decide what I was going to do.

"Do you like Z?" I asked him pointedly.

"Of course. She's great. A lot of fun." Had he answered a little too fast? Was he a little flustered?

"That's not what I mean. Do you like the way she looks? Does she do anything for you?" Tom rocked back a little in his chair and looked wary.

"Yeah, she's a knockout. You know that. Classy lady." He looked right at me. Wanted to make it look like he'd never had an impure thought about her; too deliberate. He wanted her.

"You should see her in bed," I offered.

"I bet," he laughed, and then thought better of it: "Although we won't go there!" His laugh was supposed to be casual, but it was a little too forced, a tad too nervous. He picked up his beer to take a gulp, but it was empty. He put it down and stared at it.

"Why not go there?" I asked. "Don't tell me you've never thought of having Z in bed."

"Whoa! Not me. Not something I think about," but he had definitely blanched. And he tried to take another drink from his empty glass. Nervous for sure.

"I doubt if that's true, Tom, and I'm not sure I'd be happy about it if it were. You telling me you've never thought about fucking Z?" I had said the word. He couldn't misunderstand what we were talking about now.

Tom jolted back in his chair, clearly flustered now. "Well, sure, I guess," he stammered, "Sure, in the theoretical, fantasy kind of way, sure, sure, I guess so. She's a hot lady, anyone would want her. Like her, I mean. No offense, of course, and I'd never hit on her, but, sure, she's a looker, and smart and funny and interesting; I might have daydreamed it, maybe. But I'd never even think about it for real, of course." He paused. "You really are something. Don't hurt a guy." He tried to make it sound funny, like a joke, but it was a nervous joke.

I smiled at him. I didn't want to spook him. He relaxed a little. I picked up my beer and gestured toward Tom as if offering a toast. "To liking Z," I said, and laughed.

He had no choice, of course, except to raise his glass and answer, "To Z." But his was still empty – he had forgotten – and he was flustered again.

"How about we make it something other than a daydream?" I said as we put our glasses down. I could just barely back out now if I laughed, if I made it a joke. I looked up at Tom and held the gaze. I made my decision. "How about I invite you over to our house after this to fuck her?"

He slammed back in his chair this time. "What are you talking about? I'd never do that. No way! Jeez! What would Z say if she heard you say that? No way, man!"