Best Served Hot - Part 1 free porn video

Sequel 4 to "Best Served Cold"

The holidays arrived and departed as they always have, with last minute shopping, wrapping presents, and the obligatory visits with family and friends. We didn't talk at all about Michael, but he was still on my mind nearly every day. We planned a small New Year’s Eve party at our place with fifteen or twenty guests. "Are you going to invite him?" I had asked. "I'd like to meet him if you want me to, but with our friends here, I'm not sure how it would go."

"I know what you'd like," she had said, grinning. "We'll have him over some other time, when the three of us can talk." There was something in her voice that suggested she had already planned it, and had expectations she hadn't shared. There was something in her eyes as well; it was always her eyes that gave her away when she spoke of Michael.

January turned bitterly cold, with more and more snow and all the inconveniences that came with it. Linda and I both returned to work, grateful for the relief from the holiday madness, but a bit sad it was over. It was our favorite time of the year; we loved putting up the tree, and hated taking it down. On the street below, the strings of lights and blinking decorations were gone and the city had returned to browns and grays.

"I saw Michael today."

I watched her there across from me, propped up near the end of the sofa with her legs stretched out in front of her. She raised one knee as she spoke, bunching her nightshirt up around her waist, showing me a mouth-watering expanse of bare leg from hip to toe. I could see between her legs where the familiar red panties barely covered her. I knew it wasn't a coincidence that the red panties suddenly appeared along with the mention of his name.

"At work?" I asked, still staring between her legs.

"No, not really." She didn't look up from her tablet.

"Let me guess, then. Your 'secret place'?" My heart was pounding.

"Ummm, no, not there. And it wasn't that 'secret' - just a vacant office at work. I couldn't help teasing you a little."  

"Was it a place I'd know? Did you go to lunch, or maybe have a drink with him after work?" I guessed.

"You're getting warmer," she said, trying to hold back a smile, still punching and swiping across the surface of her new iPad.

I went to the sofa and sat on the edge beside her. She was fiddling with her tablet, scrolling through collections of our friends' holiday photos. The red panties had to be a sign; she hadn't worn them since the night of her office party.  

"Did - you shave down there?" I asked, suddenly convinced she had. The panties weren't able to hide what she had done. I could see the smooth, plump rise of her labia pressed snugly against moist slit between them, almost as if she wore nothing at all.

Now she couldn't contain her smile, but still didn't look up. "Do you like it?"

"Uh, I - I mean - yeah, sure. But you never shave there. You don't like the maintenance or the itchy stubble when it grows back."

"Maybe I won't grow it back. Would you like that? If I stayed completely bare while you perv around the house watching me?"

"Did you do this for him?" I asked, worried she might be diving in over her head.

She looked up suddenly, as though she instantly recognized how her surprise might be misunderstood. "Oh, David - no, of course not. I know how you like spying on me when I'm naked. I loved hearing you tell me. But actually, I suppose I did it for both of you."

"So, you've been seeing him then?" I asked, cautiously.

She put down her tablet and gave me an apologetic look. "You said it was okay, that you could look the other way occasionally. Did you change your mind?"

"Well, no. But I wanted you to let me know. That was our agreement."

"I am letting you know. Now."

"Then, when was it?" I asked, nervously. It had excited me at first, but now I worried her overly buoyant mood since the time of our agreement might be a sign of trouble.

"Today. Just today. Only one time."  She began to smile again. "You're getting hard, aren't you?"

How could she always do that so easily, so predictably? There was this uncanny synergy of the sight of her willing body and her teasing, seductive smile that always reeled me in, and she was exquisitely adept at adding the words she knew would command my cock to rise for her when she wanted it.  

"I want to see you," I told her, too distracted to answer her question. I adjusted her nightshirt and pulled the panties down along her legs and over her bare feet. She let the leg nearest me fall off the sofa, flaunting her bare sex, knowing it would make me harder. I held the wisp of red lace in my hands, drawing the waist taut with two fingers to match the width of her hips.  The panties felt as if they might float away in the air if I let them go. "You wore them for him when you were with him? Today?"

"I want you inside me while I tell you. Can we do it here, on the sofa?" Her eyes locked on mine so seriously, yet there was an unmistakable certainty that she knew I'd want what she promised. She was visibly wet, naked under the shirt, spreading her legs and inviting me in.

When I undressed and began to climb between her legs, she stopped me. "No - I want to be on top. I don't want you to be able to escape once I start," she teased.

"Why would I try to escape?" I asked, still a bit too ambivalent to fully accept her playfulness the way she intended it.

She narrowed her eyes, wearing her best evil grin. "Maybe it'll be too much for you."

Linda lowered herself slowly onto my cock, squirming a little to get comfortable. And she began her story.

"We've been planning it for a week. I told Michael you agreed to 'look the other way' if we decided to fuck. We had a long talk first. He didn't want to complicate our past by agreeing to fuck me if he wasn't sure you were okay with it - well, more than okay. I told him how hard you were when we pretended you were him fucking me after the party, and he was anxious to make our first 'date'."

"A date? I'm not sure I like the sound of that."

"His word, not mine. Maybe this will be too much for you. Hmmm? Maybe I should stop..."

"Wait! What? No - tell me!" She just couldn't resist teasing, right up to the last minute.

"Michael picked me up at lunch today, just a few blocks from the office. Don't worry - no one saw us. But even if they had, he and I do go to lunch together now and then just to talk shop. Still, it was exciting, imagining everyone knew I was slipping away to fuck a man who isn't my husband. I would never want the people I work with to know, but while I sat waiting for him at a little outdoor cafe, I began to fantasize that a few of the men there knew, and that they'd want a turn with me after Michael had me. I imagined their cocks were all huge and hard for me, the 'innocent and faithful wife' who was unable to hide that she was on her way to be fucked by her lover.

"Then, in the middle of my fantasy, this guy appeared out of nowhere and asked if he could join me. He was so young, in his early twenties I guessed, a little scruffy, but so confident in the way he approached me with his boyish good looks. His crotch was at eye level, and I couldn't take my eyes off his faded jeans as he stood there beside me; that cute little butt and very nice bulge where I imagined his dick waited impatiently for me just looked so delicious. I told him I was waiting for my husband, but instead of folding and slinking away, he just smiled, and told me, 'Maybe some other time, then?'. If I hadn't been waiting for Michael, I'm not completely sure I wouldn't have gone with him to discover what was inside those faded jeans. I can still see the outline of his surprisingly large cock, right there in front of me, eagerly prepared to fuck me. But, I'm sure it was just my impatience to fuck Michael that allowed me to even consider it. At least that's what I told myself as I watched his cute little butt walk away from me."

She was rising and falling on my cock so slowly, timing her movements to match the words she used to draw me in to her story. She had taken me deeply inside her, and then stopped, impaled to the hilt as she closed her eyes, wearing a faint, satisfied smile. Her contractions were those of a small but powerful fist inside her belly, clamping, releasing, and then tightening again, over and over, as she relived her encounter with her scruffy admirer. At first I had thought he was merely an exaggerated embellishment to her story, but now I wasn't so sure.

"Would you have fucked him?" I asked, quietly. "I mean, if it was a normal work day and you had stopped for lunch there? You've never told me anything like this before."

She opened her eyes and stared down at me with a look that penetrated any and all doubts I had about her sincerity. I knew how adept she was at leading me through a labyrinth of erotic surprises and trapdoors. Admittedly, I always followed her willingly, so eager to see her as a woman open to ever more perversity; yet post-orgasm rationality always intruded to remind me of the potential repercussions and regrets.

"You must know I look at other men, David - that I wonder what some of them might be like in bed. Does it seem so impossible that I might be seduced by at least one of them, far beyond my best attempt to refuse them?"

"So, you might fuck him? If you happen to meet him 'some other time'? Would you tell me?"

"I'm not that easy, David. But what if I had gone with him? What if that guy at the cafe took me somewhere and fucked me, even if it was only for a few minutes, for as long as it took for both of us to come? We'd never see each other again after a single, momentary lapse of judgement; it would be my little secret I'd remember on a day when I'm feeling less than attractive and need to know men other than my husband might find me desirable."

I moved both hands to her breasts, pushing them gently upward and together, just as they had looked when bound by the unbuttoned opening at the front of her flowered dress. When her smile widened, I was sure she could read my mind. "Do you have many of these little secrets?"

"Enough to keep you begging for more, David. But you only get one at a time, and only when I want to see you sweat a little while I get you hard." On the last word she clenched my cock as tightly as she could, holding it, watching me with amusement as I tried to delay spewing every drop I had into her tense, clutching belly.

"But maybe now you'd rather hear about Michael and me..." she teased, afraid I wouldn't last until she fed me the rest of her story.

"He owns a rental house, just outside the city. The last tenants had just moved out, so we had the entire house to ourselves. We talked for a while. He wanted to know all about you, especially about your decision to share me with him. I explained that I had filled you in on my history with him, and that it was a subject you and I have danced around and played with for a while now. He seemed satisfied with that.

"He told me about a couple he met when he worked as an actor in New York, a husband and wife who shared the fantasy of another man fucking her. They approached him one night after his show, and the husband watched his wife flirt with Michael outside the theater. He fucked the wife while her husband watched, for over a year before moving back. He said he often thought about fucking me when we'd see each other now and then, and he knew it had worked for the couple in New York, but he doubted you'd ever be open to considering it.

"Anyway, we talked about old times, some of the strange and funny people we knew on campus, and yes, a little about having sex together back then. I asked him, why me? When he could have had any girl on campus? He told me it wasn't just one thing. He thought my body was perfect, and so was the way I fucked, like I was so hungry for it that nothing else mattered. I was shocked. I never knew he saw me that way. When I told him I assumed I was just an afterthought, he confessed to how many times he masturbated thinking of me knocking on his door, so starved for sex. He never told me any of that back then. I was just happy and always a little surprised that a guy like Michael wanted to fuck me.

"He asked me to strip for him. It was lunch time, and I was in my work clothes, but I think he liked that - watching me lay my jacket and blouse on the floor, seeing me peel my slacks off, then unfasten my bra and model my red panties for him. It was the first time he had seen me in just the panties; the night of the party I never took my dress off, and besides, I wanted you to see me in them first. He told me to leave my heels on and turn and pose for him. I was glad I had shaved myself that morning. I wanted to surprise him, just like I did you. And, I wanted to show him I had offered up a small sacrifice to him, one my husband didn't yet know about. When I told him you hadn't seen me shaved yet, he called me a 'little slut'. I liked it, David. No, I fucking loved hearing him say it."

"Is that how you saw yourself," I asked. "A little slut who was cheating on her husband? Did being that 'little slut' mean as much to you as finally being able to fuck him?"

"I only know it excited me, David. I've been the 'good girl' for so long, since after the time Jordan made me his slave, and for years before that. There is a difference, you know, between giving myself to a man and submitting to him in my fantasies. The way Michael spoke to me blurred those differences, as if he knew all about my fantasies and laid them bare in front of me. He said that if I hadn't shaved myself, he was going to ask me to do it, so he could see my pussy swell and drip for him. He told me from now on he wants to see all of me, and that I wouldn't be completely naked for him unless I was shaved. He was so insistent, almost demanding in the way he said it, that it brought back memories of Jordan's demands just before he tied me and fucked me. I was mortified that it made me wet instantly, that I might have to explain why if he asked. But he just looked between my legs and smiled like he understood.

"I know I don't have the body I had in college, but he kept telling me how beautiful I was. The longer he talked, the more I wanted him see all of me. I turned and posed for him when he asked. I played with my breasts and spread my legs for him. He told me to play with myself, and I put my hand in my panties and did it, shamelessly, right there in front of him. When he finally reached out and lifted my breasts with his hands, it was as though nothing else existed outside of that room."

She paused, securely impaled on me, and took a few deep breaths. I could feel her juices begin to soak me, the unexpected coolness of the liquid as it flowed over my pubic hair and coated the root of my cock. I could see reliving her time with him had stopped her story as though she was there, and that her confessions of the afternoon might cause her to become lost in wanton sensations she couldn't express in words.

"Jesus, I wish I could have been there," I told her, needing a few deep breaths myself.  "The thought of you stripping for him during your lunch hour, the clothes everyone sees you wear at the office in a pile at your feet; I doubt anyone but me would ever picture you there like that. I guess you were late getting back to work."

"He wanted me to call in sick the rest of the afternoon, so I did," she went on, finally.  "After that, I just went to him, unzipped him, and sucked him. It was so like it used to be. He was thick and hard and the taste of him was so familiar. My hands were on him everywhere - his thighs, his ass, and his hard, flat stomach. He tried to stop me when he was close to cumming, but I wouldn't - I couldn't. He kept trying to back away from me, but I closed my mouth around him and pulled him close. It was as though it was Jordan's cock, and I'd be punished if I didn't drink everything he had to give me. When he came, I swallowed and swallowed, but a little of it leaked out of the corners of my mouth. I don't think he was even aware of it - he just closed his eyes, put his head back, and gave me all of it in a few surging gushes. There was so much semen, just as I remembered with Jordan. Still, this time no one scolded me or punished me for what I spilled. I was happy that I had pleased him, and that I had shown him how hungry I was for him, just like he said he remembered in college.

"We got naked and lay on the carpet together for a while after that. He couldn't keep his hands off my body. I loved how he had time for me after I finished him - how he stroked my neck and ran his fingers over me. I had forgotten how preoccupied he was with simply touching and stroking me all over back then.

"We had waited so long, so many years, and were so desperate for each other. There wasn't any foreplay - after he had time to recover, we just fucked. But it didn't take me back to how I remembered it in college like I expected. I wasn't his 'afterthought' anymore. I thought of you, when you surprised me by telling me that you could 'look the other way'. I imagined you there, watching, smiling with approval, telling me I could have his cock, and that I should enjoy every second of it. I came while I was thinking all that about you. It was so intense, yet so warm and satisfying.

"He watched me like you do when we dressed to leave. He kissed me, asked if I was okay, and when we could do it again. I reminded him you had said 'now and then', and I told him that it had to be just sex and nothing more, but that when he wanted me again, I'd be willing.  He looked relieved in a way - maybe that we'd be able to fuck again, but also maybe that the obsession I had for him back then was much different than how I think of him now. I made it clear that I'm obsessed with his body and his cock, but that I get amazing 'husband cock', and everything else I need, from you."

I had my hands on her hips, slowly rubbing my thumbs along the crease between her legs and her silken belly. My fingers wondered onto the yielding pillow of flesh just above where she had taken me inside her, sliding once over her slippery, engorged nub, then slightly higher, tracing even lines over the smooth, sensitive skin there.

She inhaled sharply, hissing, letting her head fall back. "You know what that does to me - you know I can't take it - God, you're killing me!"

My hands became careful spiders - deliberate, searching, crawling fingerlings, inching step by step up over her flat belly. She shuddered and hissed again. "Oh fuck, David! fuck! fuck!" She fell back, stretching her arms behind her until she caught herself, arching her back and whimpering. I pulled at her nipples, milking and stretching them just enough to make her gasp.

She leaned forward again, rising and falling on my cock, pounding me furiously with her perfect ass. Lowering my hands slowly back down her belly, I found the bare, drenched lips of her pussy, then probed and circled her rubbery clit with the tip of my finger. "Oh fucking Christ, David I'm going to come, I'm going to come - oh fuck me fuck me fuck me..."

It was too much for me - I gaped at her straining torso, her shuddering breasts, and the tornado of hair whipping wildly around her shoulders. The words and sounds she made let me know the crest she was riding would break and carry her crashing over the edge in seconds. Just as she let it take her, she reached between us and circled the base of my cock tightly with her thumb and fingers. We rode over the cliff together, suddenly reaching and clutching at each other, sealing our mouths together in a deep, violent, carnivorous kiss.

She lay there panting on top of me afterward, her head on my chest, my leg trapped between her thighs. I could feel the hard rise of her vulva push into my thigh in regular little spasms, like an earthquake's aftershocks.

"God, David - that was perfect. I'm so happy. This is going to work, isn't it? I mean with Michael?"

"I have to admit, there is something exciting about it," I told her. "I want you to be happy, and there's something taboo about it that puts an edge on it. I know - it's been my fantasy for so long, but I was always uneasy about how I might react if it really happened. You make it a lot easier for me to accept. I love seeing you like this."

"So, you don't mind if I see him again? Maybe not too soon, but eventually?"

"When I told you I could 'look the other way', I meant it. As long as I have you as often as I need you, not just in bed, but in every other way, in my life. I want to share this with you. I want to know what you do with him - what he does to you - all of it. I suppose the only things that scare me a little are secrets, the ones you and he might have I'm not aware of. I have to know everything. He has to understand that."

"We need to have him over, David, so we can talk about all of this. Are you comfortable with that? The only Michael you've ever known is 'Stephan'. You have to remember he's been an actor, and that 'Stephan' isn't the real Michael at all."

"Do it. Like I said, I don't want any secrets, and that includes who Michael really is." I took a deep breath, then exhaled. "This is surreal. I'm going to meet the man who's fucking my wife. And, I'm looking forward to it."

Linda raised her head and planted a quick kiss on my lips. "So am I, David. Probably even more than you are."

                                               ~*~

Linda and I made dinner together on Friday. My specialty is a spicy seafood cioppino over a bed of fettuccine. Linda had taken the afternoon off to make her 'Death by Chocolate' cake with her special touch, a drizzle of Courvoisier over the top and sides while it was iced. Four bottles of my favorite claret stood waiting on the kitchen counter, a silent rank of soldiers as reinforcements for the night to come.

Michael arrived early, surprisingly nervous and animated - not the 'Stephan' I remembered at all. He pumped my hand a few times after I let him in, patting my upper arm and smiling warmly. It was almost an unsaid apology, I thought, or at least an attempt to put me at ease. I had remembered him as taller and more imposing, but he was my height and nearly the same build. He had been a much better actor than I had given him credit for.

Linda hugged him and pecked him on the cheek, and he took her hands in his for a minute, admiring her. "I suppose you know what a lucky man you are, don't you?" he told me, grinning past her as he held her there in front of him.

"I suppose I do," I told him. Had I noticed a second of discomfort in his eyes when I answered him? Could he have possibly been jealous, or was it a brief flash of remorse?

"Oh - almost forgot these," he said, after releasing Linda. He turned to recover a dozen roses for Linda and a bottle of scotch for me, just outside the door where he had left them before knocking. Linda beamed at him, gushing over the bouquet of red blooms and buds. I was pretty happy myself with the eighteen-year-old single malt.

Linda and Michael sat and talked in the living room while I boiled the water for the fettuccine. It was all business, with back and forth about projects and deadlines. They seemed more like coworkers than lovers. I was relieved the subject of sex between them hadn't come up. Yet, there was still a hint of uneasiness, mixed with the unexpected potential that anything, good or disastrous, might descend upon us. Each time I'd hear Linda's voice rise in awe of Michael, I'd imagine his cock in her, and her unbridled joy of its length and girth. The linguini rushed past al dente as my imagination boiled alongside it.

Our dinner seemed to be a hit with Michael; as much as he liked my main course, he heaped praise on Linda for her chocolate-cognac cake. A few humorous stories about Linda and Michael's college days here and there kept the conversation light, but still reminded me of when and where they first fucked. There was an air of sensual familiarity between them that I viewed with equal amounts of arousal and caution; it was mostly the way Linda gazed at him when he spoke, or touched him arm when she laughed with him. Or, maybe it was just the wine going to my head.

Later, after we moved to more comfortable surroundings in our living room, the small talk carried us through another hour before it ran out of steam and stalled into silence. I brought more wine from the kitchen, and a plate with slices of Linda's cake to snack on. Linda and I sat beside each other on the sofa, and I had offered Michael my favorite recliner across from us. When we all ran out of words, he glanced at Linda, then me, and sighed.

"I guess we all know why I'm here tonight. So, I might as well start. David, I can't imagine what you think of me, after what I put you through," he began.

"What we put you through," Linda added.

He clasped his hands together, leaned forward in the chair, looked at the floor, and shook his head slowly from side to side.

"I cared about Linda. I didn't know you at all, and wanted to help her get over whatever happened between the two of you. I'm not judging you - but it was all for her. Only for her. I was pretty rough on you. Jesus, the longer it went on, the more it escalated out of control. She was working out her pain, and I admit, I was caught up in how it felt to have her there beside me like that again. But I'm not that guy. I'm really not. I just care about her."

I could feel Linda's eyes on me as he spoke.

"Michael, David and I have talked about this. A lot. It took some time, but I don't think he hates you," she said.

"You wouldn't be here if I did," I told him. "It took a long time though. You can thank Linda for getting me through most of it. And you're very lucky I've never been a violent man. But I guess it took a lot for all of us to get through all of it, in different ways."

Linda put her hand on mine and gave it a little squeeze.

"Besides, you were both lucky I didn't take my waitress's offer to fuck me, then never come back. A lot of other men would have," I told them.

"David! The pretty little Goth girl? The one I had to see about paying our tab after you forgot? Would you really have fucked her?"

"With you and Michael upstairs, well, doing whatever? I was sick with fear and guilt, and revenge wasn't far from my mind. She almost had me persuaded, but I had pickled my brain with so much booze I wouldn't have been much good to her anyway, even if had wanted to fuck her - which I did, then didn't. I don't even remember some of it."

"I guess I would have deserved it, David. But I'm glad you didn't. It means a lot to me that you didn't make things worse."

I poured everyone another glass of wine as quiet descended again. Was Michael going to talk about what he and Linda had been up to? He seemed to be avoiding any mention of having sex with her, and what I had agreed to. If anything, he seemed to withdraw before ever hinting at it. We were all a little drunk, and strangely, instead of lessening our inhibitions, it smothered them into silence. I couldn't find the words myself, yet it was supposed to be the night we came to terms with our decision that Linda would be having sex with him. In any case, there weren't going to be any secrets. Whatever this was to be, I had to a part of it, or I wouldn't allow it to happen at all.

Linda's white blouse was inches away, so I reached over and began unbuttoning it. One button, then two, then three, all the way down to where it was tucked into her slacks. She shot me a surprised look, but didn't stop me. Michael sat across the room, staring in silence. She had bought the outfit for that night. It was simple, yet sexy; the silk blouse showed off her bare breasts and nipples beneath it, and the slacks, although roomy, were thin enough to outline her slim legs and perfect ass whenever they happened to collapse against her.

I turned off all the lights except the one near her at the end of the sofa, then stood in front of her, parting her knees gently with both hands. She was breathing deeply, looking up at me with surprise and wonder. I smiled, just a little, and she returned it with a longer, but more cautious one of her own.

I placed my hands inside her thighs and trailed a single finger slowly up each side to the warm V where they met. Her hips twitched, just for a second, against me. I traced lingering paths up along the creases of her groin, finally hooking my fingers inside the wide waistband. I tugged, just once, very lightly. Her lips parted, and she silently mouthed the words, "Are you sure?" as she stared up at me. I nodded, and answered silently, "I'm sure."

The large decorative button at the waist opened easily, and I drew the zipper down as far as it would travel. She flinched when I touched her as I opened the last two buttons of her blouse, then spread the sides open, displaying the full expanse of her body from neck, to soft, lower belly. Her flesh looked delicious in the warm light of the nearby lamp.

She slouched a bit, moving her hips just off the edge of the sofa, a position she knew would appear more helpless and yielding. I stopped for a moment to watch her breasts heave and her nipples harden. It was all there - the excitement, the submissiveness, and the danger I knew had surrounded and invaded her, the sum of all the collective erotic fantasies and experiences unleashed inside her. I wanted to put my hands on her, to kiss her breasts and belly, to feel her velvety skin respond to my touch and see her burning core drip for me. But in the next instant, I understood all of it would be for someone else that night.

I inched her open slacks down over her thighs, halfway to her knees. She tried to splay her legs, straining against the bunched material. I had never seen the lacey white panties, no doubt bought for that special night. She was smooth and bare under them.

I stopped to stare again after I lowered the panties against the slacks. She had opened like an alien flower, with pulsing, wet petals surrounding a bright red, liquid center. An engorged, rubbery stalk lay among the petals, insistent and angry, the tiny head and mouth willing bait for sustenance lured to its entrance. I nearly surrendered, then resisted its siren's call, leaving it untouched for its intended invader.  

Michael watched from his chair with fascination. When I turned to him, he had already taken his cock in his fist, lost in the sight of Linda's outrageous display of puckered nipples and drenched pussy. I nodded at him and stepped aside, offering all of her for whatever he wanted from her.

I watched him raise her legs and strip the slacks and panties off her in one forceful tug. He landed between her legs and put his mouth on her, licking and probing deeply within her. She clenched his face between her thighs while he worked on her, and I heard her quiet whispers as I backed away.

"Yes - yes - yes - oh, Michael, yes - there - oh fuck, Michael - fuck fuck fuck, yes, there..."

Then he stood and looked down at her, stroking himself, committing every curve, hill and valley of her ravenous body to memory before he finished her. He was so incredibly hard for her. The ridges and veins of his cock raged with impatience, and he dripped an unending string of syrupy precum.

I'm not sure what Linda saw when she looked at me then. It was something between me living a longtime fantasy, and preparing to run screaming into the night, I suppose. It's not quite what I felt, but I could see how she might have taken it for that. She rose from the sofa and asked carefully if Michael could stay.

I tried the best I could to look over at him without staring at his raging erection. It was both frightening and erotic knowing he was so hard for Linda, and that she was nearly naked so close to me, so ready to let him have her. It was then I knew why she had avoided comparing us - my cock to his. At least she had been joking when she assumed I thought of him as having "massively thick, ten-inch cock". Still, I recognized in an instant how the imposing, heavily veined girth she had neglected to mention must have fueled her addiction to it, and the need to feel him inside her again.

"It's fine," I managed to utter. Linda was standing next to me with her pleading eyes fixed on me.

"Are you sure?" she asked. A mix of her perfume and the heat from her body assaulted me in waves when she took my hand. She looked so desperate, so beautiful, and so fuckable. I thought that if I could have read her mind, that she'd have been starved for him, for the thick, pulsing cock that stood rigid and upright, waiting impatiently for her to take it in her mouth, then inside her, filling her belly as the length of it dragged across her hungry, distended clit. Even if she could find the words to tell me, I doubted that she'd dare to say them out loud. But her face, and her eyes, told me everything.

When I couldn't answer, she told me, "We'll go to the bedroom. Will you be okay on the sofa?"

It was the perfect answer to something I couldn't reason my way out of. It wasn't my time to see anything more. I wasn't ready, and Linda knew that instinctively.

"Sure. I'll be fine out here. Have a good time - really, I want you to," I told her. It sounded silly and out of place after I had said it, but I was too shaken to offer any other response.

Michael was watching. I was sure he had begun to have doubts about where this was headed.

"It's okay, Michael," I assured him. "Just a case of firstime butterflies. Be careful with her - but, I mean, give her whatever she wants. Make her happy, but seriously, don't fuck that up, all right?"

It certainly wasn't 'Stephan' who answered me. He looked down for a second, and then smiled at me. "I've always cared about her, David, in all the right ways. None of that has changed."

Linda took his hand, led him to our bedroom, and closed the door.

                                                ~*~

I heard them occasionally throughout the night. It was mostly Linda's passionate cries and her unmistakable responses to his fucking, but then Michael's lower pitched groans would travel through the door and wall between the sounds she made, and I imagined him coming in her each time. When I slept, I had bizarre dreams of them back in college - Linda in a short, pleated school-girl skirt and skin-tight, deeply cut, V-neck sweater, banging on his door begging for sex, then her on her knees sucking him as a river of semen escaped from both sides of her hungry mouth. The semen kept flowing into her, minute after minute, and she gulped it desperately, looking up at him as though she might be punished for consuming too little of it. I'd wake with an erection, then hear them fucking in our bedroom and wonder if the sounds they made had been woven into my dreams.

Michael left quietly, early the next morning. I pretended to sleep while I watched him tiptoe across the room and out the door. Linda was awake, and I went in to see if she was okay. She was naked, and lay with one leg exposed on top of the sheet, clutching the rest of it against her breasts. She rolled toward me when she heard me come in, baring the rest of her body as the sheet fell away. She yawned and stretched, then reached out for me to join her. I noticed a small pile of used condoms on the bedside table, their contents leaking into a small, crusting puddle.

She drew me to her and hugged me as though we had been apart for weeks.

"Mmmmm - did you sleep?" She asked.

"A little. Did you?"

She nibbled on my ear. "Not much..."

"I heard," I said, teasing her.

"Were we loud? Sometimes I couldn't help it."

"So, you had a good time?"

She rolled on top of me, her face beaming, her eyes alive with excitement. "David, it was wonderful. He's full of surprises - but he doesn't know my body like you do. I missed that." She grinned, found my cock, and held it until it came to life in her hand.

"I had some pretty strange dreams last night," I confessed.

"Mmmm, dirty ones? About me?"

"Yes, about you, and very dirty."

"Ooooh, tell me! tell me! The dirtiest one!"

"How about you in a tiny Catholic school-girl outfit, on your knees, sucking Michael until his cum flowed out of your mouth."

"Mmmm, I like it, but it wasn't anything that happened last night. I didn't have him in my mouth once. All he wanted to do was fuck constantly, all night. He was insatiable."

"I guess that's understandable," I said. "He's waited a long time to come in my beautiful wife."

"Oh stop! You make it sound so...so... well, yes; I guess that's about right!"

"So, it's Saturday. What would you like to do today?" I asked.

She rolled off me onto her back, raised her arms over her head, and stretched her body from fingers to toes. It was a luscious sight. Every firm muscle under her tight, pale skin rose along the slim lines of her legs and torso, as though an artist's hand had coaxed the perfect erotic sculpture from pure, white marble.

"Breakfast! A big one!" she answered.

"And then what?"

"A shower, with you."

"And...?" I asked again.

"And then, you better get some rest. Because you're going to fuck me in every room today, all day long, until one of us can't fuck anymore."

"And then?"

"And then we'll do it all over again, tomorrow!"

                                                ~*~

We went on like that for months. Michael kept his rental house off the market, stocked the refrigerator, and put a king-size bed in one of the rooms. When Linda took extended lunches to meet him there, he'd have soap, fresh towels, and a small assortment of her cosmetics so she could return to work without looking, as she put it, "freshly fucked". I never knew in advance when they'd meet, only after Linda would rush home to give me all the details. She said that often she'd never know when he'd call for another of their "dates", that sometimes it would be minutes before her lunch hour. She became more and more skilled at making the stories about them blatantly pornographic, so much so at times I wondered if she was exaggerating their staggering attempts to make up for years of lost time. She assured me, over and over, that she wasn't.

It was Michael's idea that the three of us should go out together now and then on weekends. There were museums and art galleries to visit, and outdoor festivals in the spring. I'm sure there were times when some might have tried to guess which of us her lover was after she put her hands on us, alternating her attention between us. I often wondered what they thought when she took both our hands, or pulled us both close so she could put an arm around us and give us each a peck on the cheek. I didn't want to be alone without her after one of those days, so Michael always came home with us and fucked her in our bed.

He'd stay for breakfast now and then on a Saturday or Sunday morning. We became comfortable with him there at the breakfast table surprisingly soon, he in his boxers, and Linda in just her panties as she made us thick, yellow omelets and a large pan of sizzling bacon. Michael and I would stare as we watched her stretch, up on tiptoe, when she reached for a plate or bowl on an upper shelf. When she bent to look in the refrigerator with her pantied little ass toward us, we would catch each other grinning. We didn't need words to show how the slim lines of her body got both of us a little hard, and I'd see the head of his cock creep from the leg of his boxers after a while, inflating and inching forward until it was obvious he wanted her one more time before he left. He didn't always get what he wanted, but he did often enough.

One of those mornings when his cock had crept a bit farther than usual from his boxers, Linda went to him and slid her hand up his thigh until she could take the head between her fingers. His erection grew at once, curving upward, soon a thick stalk of hard flesh in her hands. She looked at me with a sidewise glance, as if to ask if she should continue. I was growing my own erection, sneaking out from where my robe parted. That, and my gaping mouth as I watched her milk him, gave her the answer she needed.

Linda lowered herself to her knees and took him in her mouth. It was the first time I had actually seen her do it, and I was surprised at how eagerly she licked and sucked. Michael let his head fall back and closed his eyes, capturing and possessing every second of pleasure she lavished on him. His hips began to rise and fall in a measured cadence, fucking her mouth, carefully enough not to interrupt her determined intention to drain him. She moaned softly when he came in her mouth, the exquisite vibrations begging even more semen from him. As a pair, they were a surprisingly beautiful sight - I had never seen her worship another man's cock before, and Michael's body had responded exactly as she had planned, flexing and bucking while Linda's greedy mouth emptied him.

When she finally consumed all he had to give her, she looked over at me and asked, "You liked watching that, didn't you? You've spent so much time imagining Michael's cock in my mouth. Was it everything you fantasized about for so long?"

"It was - just, beautiful," I told her. "You're amazing."

"Well, don't think you're going to be left out. I always have time for you too, remember?"

She knew I was already hard, and she sucked me with a passion I rarely saw from her. Michael appeared behind her, went to his knees, and placed his hand between her legs, working his way down inside her panties. When all his fingers entered her, her eyes met mine and widened suddenly. "Oh God, David - he's inside me - stretching me - so fucking much - fuckfuckfuck -" When he pushed into her farther, she groaned so loudly, the low, growling wave of sound sent me over the edge, and I spewed into her as Michael's penetration triggered her own orgasm. Then, just after she had swallowed everything I had given her, Michael took a fistful of her hair, pulled her head back gently, and touched two fingers to her lips. She sucked on them like they were flavored with strawberries, closed her eyes, and groaned one more time before finally collapsing into my lap.

My eyes met Michael's, and there was a first-time connection between us. We had given Linda an unplanned but deeply satisfying reward together, one we'd all remember. There were subliminal messages in the look we shared; his was a sincere promise he wasn't there as a competitor, only that he wanted L's body and our friendship; mine was one of forgiveness, and trust that his intentions were honest and true. It was strange to me that we could come to the moment when we could put the past behind us without speaking a single word. But then, Linda had always been adept at summoning a surrounding blanket of empathy. This time, it was the astonishing way she had achieved it.

Still, as relaxed as our relationship had become with Michael, I had never watched them in our bed. Michael hadn't offered, and Linda remained concerned about how I might react, or maybe she was too self-conscious to encourage it. I found the subject just awkward enough to let things stand as they were. When he stayed over, it was assumed that he'd share Linda and our bed as our guest. I'd take the sofa only a few yards away, but not before leaning close to our bedroom door and masturbating to the sounds of Linda urging him on. The moans of her orgasm were always enough to finish me.

Then, one night after Linda and I fucked to the fantasy of a masked intruder finding his way through an unlocked window and having his way with her, she asked if I had ever wished I could watch Michael fuck her.

"He's the one who brought it up," she admitted. "And I wouldn't mind - in fact, it would be good for us, wouldn't it? You like seeing me naked, don't you? Wouldn't you like to see me under him, or on top, riding him, with his cock in me? Hasn't that always been your fantasy?"

I admitted as much. "But are you sure he'd be able to keep it up with me there watching, like some kind of spectator?"

She rolled on top of me and grinned. "Wellll - he's always been ready, always so hard for me, and then again so incredibly soon after we fuck. Why do you think I'm so happy all the time? I have two men who I can depend on to fuck me completely and deliriously senseless, whenever I want them. Why shouldn't they both be in the room with me at the same time? Or maybe in the same bed?"

I didn't have an immediate answer for her, but still wondered how it might work. She could see I still struggled with all kinds of potential mishaps and embarrassment.

"What if we leave the bedroom door open the next time he stays?" she suggested. "You could wander in quietly after we start, or just watch from the door if that's better for you. He's already told me he wouldn't mind if you want to watch. In fact, he said he wondered how long it was going to be before you bring it up. He's done this before when he lived in New York, remember?"

"So, what then?" I asked her. "Would you want me on the bed with the two of you? Or maybe more than just that?" I knew I was asking the questions of a clueless beginner.

"It's not that I haven't thought about it, David, but I guess I never went so far as to imagine all the things the three of us might do together every minute. Maybe I was afraid it wouldn't be as perfect as the fantasy. But, imagining having two naked men in my bed at the same time - mmmm, it is hard to see how that could be a bad thing."

"You'd want both of us to fuck you then? Maybe take turns?"

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves, David. Maybe just let it happen and see where it takes us?"

"But you still have some idea, right? About what you'd want if you had two cocks to play with instead of just one?"

She shook her head slowly and grinned at me as her hand tested bringing my cock back to life. "One cock is fine. But since you brought it up, two might be better, don't you think? But I wouldn't worry about how and when I'd want them if I were you - you don't know what Michael is like in bed. He can be very creative. He might surprise you with how generous he is."

"You mean, generous with his cock."

"Mmmm, that too," she assured me, as my erection began to return in her expert hands. "Now, maybe you'd like to put this big, hard thing inside me while we talk more about Michael. I'm sure you can be just as creative if we talk more about you watching him fuck me."

We fucked furiously, and I'm afraid I came much too soon. But Linda didn't seem to mind at all. Afterward, her face was pure satisfaction and contentment, her gaze fixed on the ceiling above us, although I imagined it focused miles away.