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I ran back into my office as the phone rang. "Hello," I said in my normal business tone.

"Hi," he said.

What the fuck?!?! He was calling me at work!!!

The call startled me. It's not as if I'd forgotten last weekend's events. How could I? They were probably the most intense, and troubling, sexual episodes of my life. I'd been thinking a lot about them these last few days. And Lynn and I had talked about them a little, too. My thoughts were typically tortured but the conversations with Lynn tended to ease my worries.

I'd never had any sort of sexual contact with another man before the ménage a trois Lynn and I had with Ben last Saturday. And then, I not only sat there while he fucked my wife, I wound up licking his cum from Lynn's cunt and then—and I still couldn't wrap my head around this one—I sucked him off right in front of Lynn. Enough said, probably, about why my thoughts about these events were rather turbulent.

The discussions Lynn and I had about these events were surprisingly consoling. What I was mostly worried about was how Lynn would look at me now. I'd read enough of the amateur on-line porn stories to know that the typical outcome from such events was that the wife completely lost respect for the husband and could never be satisfied with him again. She would openly humiliate him, cuckolding him with more "manly" men. I knew that most of these stories were made up by people with no real experience, but they had the ring of truth to them—at least to my ears.

It wasn't so much Lynn's words that were reassuring. An "of course I still respect you, honey," said in the wrong tone would have been worse than her just admitting that our relationship could never be the same again—that I'd forever branded myself a wimp in her eyes.

But in everything she said, and even more importantly, in everything she did, Lynn reassured me. She kissed me with as much passion as ever—more, I think. She wanted to have sex with me more than we had since we first started dating—always in the morning and again in the evening. And on Sunday, she'd pulled me back to the bedroom for some afternoon delight. (I couldn't think back on it without that damned "skyrockets in flight" song ringing in my ears.)

When she spoke of the events of Saturday night, it was always as if it was an adventure that we shared—and it seemed only to bring us closer. Even the acts that I most feared were irrevocably humiliating for me were portrayed by here as hot and sexy—and not at all because she felt as if I had degraded myself. Really, if you wanted a model of how a woman in a threesome with her husband and another man should conduct herself afterwards, Lynn was providing it.

So, over the last few days, I'd come to be much more comfortable with the events of last weekend. It was that growing ease that Ben's call upset.

"This is Ben." Well, okay, I knew that. Did he think I wouldn't remember his voice?

"Yeah." My voice was kind of halting and with a slight upward inflection that I hated when I heard it.

"I was wondering whether we could talk."

"What about?"

There was a pause; he seemed a bit at a loss. Then he said, "I don't know. I've just been thinking a lot about what happened last weekend..." HE'D been thinking a lot about it! I'll be he had. Did he think I hadn't?

"Yeah." It was a word, but it was really the equivalent of a noncommittal grunt.

"Well, as I think back on it, it's kind of disturbing to me." Before I could even think the words to chime in, he continued, "and I suppose it might be to you, too." He paused. "So I thought it might be good for both of us to just get together for a beer or something and talk a bit."

Now it should have been my turn to talk but I couldn't think of anything to say so, after another pause, Ben continued. "I'm a pretty regular guy. And I get the feeling you are, too. I just thought it might be good to, you know, just talk."

"I guess so."

"Could you meet me for a beer at McFadden's after work?"

Well, as it happened, I could. Tonight was Lynn's yoga class and she wouldn't be home until about 9:00. I usually just pissed Thursday evenings away, waiting for Lynn to get home. I'd watch some TV show that I later wished I hadn't spent any of my life watching or surf the web for some interesting porn. Really, I was free. I could have made up an excuse, of course. But I was beginning to think that just talking with Ben guy-to-guy might be a good next step in my becoming comfortable with what I'd done last weekend.

"Okay. I'll meet you there at 5:30."

"Great. See you then."

It was already 3:30 so I really just had time to finish up a few things before leaving the office. Ten minutes to get to my car and 15 minutes to drive to the bar and I was there a little before 5:30.

The place was packed—I mean, shoulder-to-shoulder people. I don't know what was going on but it was going to be a struggle just to find a place to stand. I waited for Ben outside of the bar. He walked up right on time and seemed surprised by the crowd.

"Oh, shit!" were his first words to me. "I forgot. This is their ten-year anniversary and they're doing free appetizers and "super happy hour" prices on drinks." He seemed no happier about the crowd than I was. "Why don't we grab a beer at my place? My house is just around the corner."

That sure seemed better than being packed in with a bunch of people who were motivated mainly be cheap booze. So, we walked to Ben's house, which turned out to be a really nice, upscale brownstone. It was tastefully decorated, but clearly a bachelor pad. There was no sign of a woman's touch.

When we got in the living room, Ben gestured for me to sit on the couch and he brought us both beers. It was good beer, a nice brown ale—a little hoppier than I usually like, but it tasted good now.

Ben tried to start the conversation with trivia. He asked about my job, how long Lynn and I had known each other, how we met, when we got married. I answered directly but didn't expand much. Ben spared me the hackneyed, "that's one hot wife you got there," kind of comments. I asked him some questions about what he did, but this wasn't really interesting me much. I decided to change the subject.

"So, Ben, what did you really want to talk about?"

"Thanks." He seemed relieved. "It's just that...I mean...it's just that before last weekend, I'd never been touched by another man and I found it kind of disturbing."

"YOU found it disturbing?!?" I said it loud, but in a tone that I thought was light-hearted. "You didn't seem to mind."

"No," he sputtered. "I mean, THAT'S what I found so disturbing—later, I mean."

"Oh." Another noncommittal grunt, I guess.

"The whole thing was incredibly exciting. Lynn's beautiful. I'd seen her before she approached me about a threeway." (I kind of winced, I think. I didn't know a lot about how Lynn had approached Ben and I didn't want to think about it.) "I mean, I'd thought about how terrific it would be to sleep with her, but only in the way that guys think that about beautiful women they see. When she talked with me about our getting together, I couldn't believe my luck. I'd never done anything like that and here she was, a gorgeous woman, asking me whether I wanted to sleep with her." He took a long pull on his beer.

"I didn't think much about her husband. I mean, I didn't want to be chased out with a shotgun. But when she assured me that this was a consensual thing, I thought that was weird but I figured: if this chick's husband is okay with it, it's okay with me."

He drank his beer again and I didn't have anything to say so I just let his words hang there until he was ready to continue.

"So, I hadn't thought much about you before we met. I guess I'd thought how strange it was that man would happily share his wife—especially a stunner like Lynn, though I guess I thought it would be weird no matter what the woman looked like. But I didn't think of you as a person."

"Then, when I met you Saturday night—when I had drinks and dinner with you—I really liked you. I realized that you and I could be friends. That made the whole thing a little stranger for me. It broke any stereotypes I'd had about what this might be like. I found myself even more out of my comfort zone than I'd been, which did nothing but make it all the more exciting."

"When you sat back with your drink and Lynn and I began, I don't think I've ever been more excited." He was looking at me closely now, but I thought I was keeping a poker face. "I guess you could tell that I was like a man possessed then. I was completely in the moment."

"And then when you started fucking Lynn, I know you shot your load really fast. I think that was because you were incredibly aroused by what was happening, too. I think you'd been sitting over there, drinking your Bourbon, or whatever, getting hornier and hornier. When you started fucking Lynn, you were as horny as a s*******n-year-old. When it happened, I wondered whether you were just one of those guys who's quick on the draw. I thought that you might have had a problem and that was why you and Lynn were interested in getting another man into your bed. But the next morning, I saw how you fucked your wife. I knew that Saturday night was a special circumstance."

"It was when you moved down to eat Lynn out that I had the most erotic voyeuristic experience of my life. I couldn't believe how it affected me. I mean, to see you doing that and to think that you were eating both your cum and my cum from your wife's cunt...it just blew my mind."

"What's your point?" I asked, a bit irritated. I didn't like where this was going.

"No, no...wait." Ben sensed my discomfort. "No. The point is, I was ready to fit you into the wimpy, cuckolded husband role. But then we took that shower together. Lynn didn't neglect me, of course. But I watched as she touched you and sucked you off." Another drink of his beer. If this story was going to go on much longer, we'd need refills.

"Lynn was attracted to me, I think. I think she enjoyed sex with me." That was obvious, I thought. "But she loves you. She wanted everything from you that man could hope his wife would want from him. She doesn't just love you; she's yours, completely. It was so clear to me in that moment that you weren't the wimpy cuckold. You and Lynn were one with each other—just exploring together a new experience."

I was pretty pleased with how this long soliloquy was ending up, even if some of the steps along the way were a little uncomfortable for me. Ben got up and refilled our beers. While he was gone, I thought about how his take on Lynn's and my situation exactly mirrored what I'd finally begun to trust was the truth.

When Ben got back with our beers, he went on. "As I was falling asleep, I just kept thinking how lucky you were. I mean, really, to have a smart, beautiful woman like Lynn love you and go anywhere you wanted to go...what more could a man ask for?" I decided not to tell Ben that the threesome with a guy wasn't exactly where I had wanted to go.

"In the morning, when I woke up to you sucking my cock, I was surprised. Shocked, really." He took another drink. "Like I said, I'd never had a guy touch me before. I don't know how I would have reacted if I'd really been awake. But I woke up gradually with my cock already in your mouth."

I watched him for any signs of disdain or contempt, but if he felt those things, he was a good actor.

"I mean, it felt so goddam wonderful. There was something about the fact that the husband of the woman I'd just fucked the night before was sucking my cock—giving me so much pleasure—that just drove me crazy...in a good way...a great way, really. And then Lynn started kissing me, passionately. I gotta tell you, Saturday night, I didn't think that anything could get me hotter. But your wife kissing me while you sucked my cock...well, it took me to a level that I never even imagined existed."

I picked up on this finally and decided to turn the monolog into a dialog. "I was asleep when it started, too, you know. It was Lynn's idea. She pushed my head down and, by the time I began to wake up, my lips were almost against your cock." He seemed surprised, and I went on. "You said you didn't know what you would have done if you'd been completely awake when it started. I'm sure it never would have started if I'd been completely awake."

Ben looked at me a long time. He seemed to be recalculating. All he said was, "Oh." But he said it in a sort of disappointed way.

"What?" I suddenly realized that something was going on that I didn't understand. Ben got up to bring us two more beers. We weren't completely out yet so I think he was making an excuse to leave the conversation for a minute.

When he got back, he said, "so, you're sorry it happened." He said it like a declaration but I could tell it was a question.

"Well..." Maybe the beer was beginning to work on me (but I'd only started on my third) or maybe I was just feeling comfortable talking with Ben, because he really is a nice guy. Whatever the reason, I found myself being uncommonly candid. "I didn't say that, exactly." Now it was my turn to sip on my beer to his silence.

"I already told you that I found the whole thing disturbing. I'd never touched a guy before—well, not counting some p*****n sleepover play—play that was all innocent daring to touch another guy type stuff." Damn, this beer tasted better than ever. Or maybe I just liked the excuse to stop talking long enough to gather my thoughts.

"So I didn't know what to make of it. But, when I set aside all of the reactions that I think I'm supposed to have and just try to think about what felt like, I guess it was okay."

"Well," Ben interjected, "from what I saw, at the time you thought it was more than 'okay'."

"What do you mean?"

"I may have been thoroughly drained, but I wasn't u*********s," he said, taking another slug of beer. "When Lynn moved down to kiss you, I saw your cock. It was hard to the point of bursting." He looked at me closely. I didn't want to confirm what he said, but I couldn't deny it, either. "And then you fucked Lynn like a demon." I still had nothing to say and he continued, "don't tell me you weren't turned on."

"So...I was turned on. That's part of what was so disturbing to me."

"Well, it's part of what's made it so hard for me to stop thinking about it. It's part of what's made the whole weekend so exciting to me as I replay the events. To tell you the truth, I keep coming back to that incident—your sucking my cock and getting so aroused by doing it."

"Yeah," another grunt disguised as a word.

"Yeah. I can't stop thinking about it." I suddenly realized that Ben had been running his hand up and down his thigh for a while now. I saw that his khakis were tented up in the crotch. And now his hand slid over his bulging cock.

I stared, transfixed. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see that he was studying me closely. I couldn't tear my gaze away from his crotch, but I knew he was watching me, gauging me response.

He slowly unzipped his fly and pulled out his now almost completely rigid cock. He was still focused on my eyes and my eyes were still focused on his, now exposed, cock. As I regarded it, sticking up proudly, hard and eager for a touch, I felt my pulse pounding—in my chest, in my groin, all through my body. I felt my throat tighten and my face burn.

Ben slowly stroked his cock with gentle strokes that were designed not so much to excite him as me. It was working, and it was obvious to Ben that it was working. I was completely focused on his beautiful shaft and I wanted to touch it again, to feel it, to take it in my mouth. My mouth felt empty—like there was an unnatural void there.

He reached over far enough to touch my shoulder. It was really just a gentle gesture—a permission to do what we both knew I wanted more than anything at that particular moment. I leaned toward Ben and wrapped my hand around his shaft as I brought my lips close. I didn't take him in my mouth right away. I wasn't hesitating out of uncertainty or ambivalence. And the delay was at least as hard on me as on Ben. But I wanted to savor the moment. I wanted to feel the wonderful hardness and heat in my hand. I wanted to see the gentle pulsing of his eager cock.

I wasn't disappointed. In the light of day, I could appreciate the details of his cock much more than I was able to last weekend. I'd never examined a cock so closely. Not even my own. It's a remarkable instrument. Ben's was lightly veined; the veins were evident, but not pronounced. The helmet, on the other hand, was quite pronounced. The ridge was very distinct and the skin was much more purple than the rest of his cock.

As my hand moved up and down Ben's cock, I watched how his ball sack moved, up and down, dragged by the motion of my hand. His balls were clearly evident in his scrotum and I liked the way they moved gently to my stroking of his cock.

Finally, I had delayed as long as I could. It's not as if the pause was easy for me, either. I brought my lips to the hot head of Ben's cock and took it just far enough into my mouth to feel the ridge of his helmet inside my lips. Squeezing my lips a bit, I pulled on and off feeling the edge of his helmet caress my lips as it moved in and out of my mouth.

I moved off the couch, kneeling between Ben's legs to get better access. Holding his shaft with one hand, I was fumbling with the other to unbuckle his belt and get his pants off. He pushed my hand out of the way and undid his pants. As he raised his hips to slip his pants and underpants off, his cock pressed deeply into my mouth, bottoming out at my throat. I had to pull off of him quickly for his underpants to slip off. As he pushed them down, his cock sprung back like a diving board, and I took his dick, now wet with my saliva, back in my mouth.

There was some awkwardness as Ben worked to get his pants completely off but I managed to keep him in my mouth throughout those contortions. When I could settle back into a rhythm, I worked my lips over his rigid rod and cupped his balls in one hand. Then I pushed my tongue out between my bottom lip and the underside of his cock, stimulating the most sensitive part of his cock. Ben was writhing and moaning in ecstasy.

He was clearly coming along quickly and I wasn't sure I wanted it to end so soon, so I pulled off, gasping for breath and taking in the sight of his swollen member, slick with my saliva, throbbing with desire inches before my eyes.

It was clear that this hiatus was frustrating for both of us but I could tell that he, too, didn't want things to come to a climax too soon. Stroking him gently with one hand, just to keep the pressure on, I looked up at his face. If I'd seen condescension or disgust in his eyes, that would have broken the spell and ended this entire scene—certainly to Ben's dismay but, surprisingly, to mine as well. But I saw there only an intense, burning lust. When he opened his eyes and saw me looking at him, I saw a slight smile, too. But it wasn't a smirk of superiority. It was the smile of friends sharing a special experience.

I used my thumb to stroke the tender underside of his cock while I reached under his nut sack to caress his perineum. I was touching him in two of the places that were the most sensitive parts of his body, at least if he was anything like me. Ben twitched with pleasure and I was suddenly filled with a startling sense of power. Who knew? All my life, when a woman had been sucking on my cock, I thought I was the one with the power. She was on her knees, a stereotypically subservient position.
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tagGay MaleMy First Threesome Ch. 02Page 2
My First Threesome Ch. 02
byCyanlot©
And isn't that what the feminists said about blow jobs—at least the ones who used their feminism as a cover for their prudery? Didn't they talk as if guys wanted blowjobs because it but them in a dominant position and the women in a submissive one? That's bullshit, of course. Any guy could tell you that guys want blowjobs because they feel wonderful; it's just a sensation thing; it has nothing to do with the politics of dominance and subordination. But what I had never realized was the incredible sense of power the "blower" has. You're the one in complete control of the guy's pleasure. And you can turn it up to an unbelievable degree. That's power!

I decided to use that power actively again. I took Ben's stiff shaft back in my mouth. I think we both moaned as I did. As I worked in earnest on Ben's cock, I felt my own cock, rigid in my boxers. It was pointing straight up and the underside was rubbing against my underpants as moved my head up and down Ben's pole.

I kept one hand on the base of Ben's cock, but stole the other away from his balls in order to rub my own cock through my pants. We were both climbing the peak toward orgasms. My arousal had at least as much to do with Ben's as it did with the pressure of my hand against my pants. The level of my excitement was linked to Ben's. The sound of him breathing harder and the feel his hips writhing drove me up toward my own climax.

Ben exploded first, but the sensation of semen flooding my mouth pushed me over the edge quickly. Maybe I should have been ashamed, or at least embarrassed, about shooting my load in my pants. But the fact was that this was an incredibly intense orgasm. The moment was right for it and it would have been foolish to let it pass out of some silly sense of propriety.

I rolled away and collapsed against the couch, the taste of cum in my mouth and its scent filling my nostrils. I think Ben was slumped back in the couch, reveling in his own post-orgasmic glow.

We both lay there, lost in our own thoughts and feelings for some time. I began to come to my senses before Ben. I became conscious of the wetness in my underpants, as the load of cum I'd shot there cooled. And then, for the first time, I felt embarrassed. I didn't know whether Ben knew that I'd cum in my pants. Maybe, maybe not. But if not, I didn't want him to. And even if he did, I didn't want to display the stain that was on my pants.

I got up, mumbling some excuses about having to go home. Ben stopped me to tell me how terrific this evening was. I looked back at him, his legs still spread and his cock now wilted from my ministrations. I could still taste, and feel, his cum in my mouth. I nodded and said, "Yeah." And it was the truth, though a serious understatement. I grabbed my jacket and headed for the door. The exit was abrupt, but the awkwardness of a hasty exit seemed better than letting Ben see the growing wet spot at the top of my pants.

Fortunately, my jacket covered the spot as I walked back past the still overflowing bar to my car. I'd be home in 20 minutes, still a good hour before Lynn got home from her yoga class. I'd have time to throw my slacks in the wash with some other clothes and no one would have to know about this event, which I'd come to think of as highly embarrassing.

No one had to know but, as it turned out, I told Lynn all about it. She got home about her usual time for these evenings: about nine. I had the load of laundry (from which I'd washed my load of cum) in the drier by then and, as was my practice, I had dinner in the oven when she came home. It's not like I'm a great cook but nowadays there are so many surprisingly good things you can just pop in the oven that anyone can do a decent job. Thursday nights cooking always fell to me because of Lynn's yoga.

When she came in, she kissed me on the way to her shower. I had dinner on the table when she came out in her robe. Her hair was wet and, as always when it was wet, it curled wildly. Lynn looked incredibly sexy like this. All through dinner, I thought about getting her into bed early enough to have a good long fuck session.

I put that plan into action after dinner, suggesting to Lynn that we leave the dishes until tomorrow. She didn't need any encouragement. Lynn had a pretty high sex drive—intensified since last weekend—and yoga classes always seemed to increase her receptiveness.

We got back to the bedroom with our intentions quite obvious, even if not explicitly stated. But things got derailed. Lynn, who didn't have much undressing to do, flopped back on the bed in her robe while I got my clothes off. Idly and innocently, Lynn asked what I'd done this evening. I said, "Not much," but something in my tone or a momentary hesitation made Lynn pursue the issue.

Lynn and I have a very honest relationship. And over the past few days, I'd become even more trusting of the relationship. With little prodding, I told Lynn about my evening. At first I spoke very generally, saying only that Ben had called and I met up with him for a drink. Lynn asked questions, naturally—it would have been strange if she weren't curious about what had prompted the call and what we'd talked about. While I was irritated that this conversation had deflected us from the trajectory we had been on only moments ago, I wasn't about to simply cut it off. I don't think clamming up would have allowed us to get back on that path anyway.

So, I told Lynn that "one thing had led to another and I'd wound up giving Ben a blow job." I said it as casually as I could and I monitored Lynn's reaction closely. She seemed intrigued by it—not at all threatened, worried, or disgusted. She wanted to know how it happened. "One thing led to another" wasn't sufficient. And she wanted to know how I'd felt about it.

I filled her in and I tried to be reasonably honest about my reactions. I didn't want to make it sound like I was too into this but I didn't pretend that I disliked it. She seemed not at all put off by the fact that I had enjoyed sucking Ben off.

Then the pivotal moment: Lynn asked if Ben "returned the favor." I told her, "No," but didn't say more at first. She thought that was weird and was puzzling about when, without even thinking through what I was doing, I told her that I'd shot my load in my pants when Ben blasted off in my mouth.

"Oh, wow!" She said—and it seemed as if it was an expression of genuine surprise and, I think, excitement. "Wow! So you really ..." and she couldn't stop herself once she'd thought of it, "you really got off on sucking his cock, didn't you?"

We both broke out laughing. Not because it was particularly clever. We both knew that, as humor, this was low-hanging fruit. But it broke the tension and we—especially I—found great relief in that.

"So, you got off, but this guy," she said, reaching down to grab my cock, "didn't get much attention, did he?" Lynn stroked my cock and went from semi-hard to rigid in seconds. "That's too bad. This guy needs attention." She started to move down toward my cock. "Really, though, I like being the one to give it attention."

At that, Lynn's lovely lips were around my cock and I was in heaven. There's no such thing as a bad blow job, at least there's never been such a thing in my experience. But this was special: first, because Lynn was right that, while I'd gotten my rocks off—and it was a very intense orgasm—I hadn't felt the caress of another's touch on my cock; and, second, because Lynn's action gave me complete confidence that the incident with Ben hadn't changed our relationship at all. It was a demonstration of love and acceptance.

My plan had been to fuck Lynn crazy tonight. But that plan would have to be deferred until tomorrow. There was no way I was going to push Lynn off my cock and she had no intention of stopping before she'd finished me off. She wasn't trying to rush things. She liked drawing out my excitement. She planted herself between my legs and fondled my balls while she sucked my cock. Then she moved down and took each nut in her mouth and sucked on it very gently, because she knew I couldn't stand anything more. And, she lifted my sack and tongued me on the sensitive skin of my perineum. That always drove me crazy, and Lynn knew it.

When she had me in a complete lather and had teased me long enough, she looked up at me and said, "Now I want you to give me all that sweet cum. I want you to blast my mouth full of it." She wasn't going to get any argument from me, of course. When she wrapped her lips around my shaft again and began bobbing up and down my pole while she jacked it hard from the base, it didn't take more than a few minutes before I was giving her exactly what she'd asked for, and maybe more than she'd expected. It hadn't been that long since I'd cum at Ben's, but I seemed to shoot an unusually large load in Lynn's mouth.

After the storm had passed, Lynn crawled up next to me and kissed me deeply. For the second time today, I sensed the taste of cum, though this time it was only the trace that was left in Lynn's mouth. After a few minutes of very sweet and passionate kissing, we fell asleep spooning. For me, it was the sleep of the innocent, completely untroubled by the events of the last day, and the last week.


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