by Selena Kitt
“Does he come in your mouth, like in the film?”
She held his gaze.
He pushed his knee against her leg again. “Come on Michelle, you can tell me.”
She looked at him. “In my fantasy, he just uses my body. He fucks me hard for a long time, and then he turns me around and comes into my mouth.”
Harry was shocked. She liked to be wooed, kissed, stroked and cuddled. “That’s not how we act in bed.”
“That’s because you’re my husband. We’re in love and we make love. In my fantasy I’m with a stranger. I don’t want him to make love to me.”
Harry stared at his wife. She’d just confessed to fantasising about getting fucked hard by a stranger, and he was turned on. His remembered the force with which she slammed the huge sex-toy into herself, her screams of ecstasy as she came. He imagined how much hotter it’d be with a man kneeling behind her, pounding her with all his force. Harry wondered how loud she’d scream then.
“He could be a soldier.” Michelle’s voice interrupted his thoughts.
“Sorry?”
“The guy, he could be a soldier.”
“Why a soldier?”
She shrugged. “Why not? I think a soldier would be happy with a casual sex arrangement.”
Harry laughed. “Michelle, you’re gorgeous. Any man would be more than happy with a casual sex arrangement that involved you.”
She smiled. “I want a fit guy.”
Harry saw her point. “I think Aldershot has a big army barracks.”
“Okay then, take me to Aldershot.” She held his gaze and he felt she’d issued a challenge.
Harry took out his phone and opened the browser. He searched for city-centre hotels, whizzed through the options until he found one he liked. He took out his card and entered the number, then put his phone back in his pocket. “We’re booked in for next Saturday night. You’ve got seven days to wait.”
Michelle looked shocked. “Are you serious?”
He nodded. “Of course I am. I wouldn’t have suggested it if I wasn’t.”
“But what if you can’t stand to watch? Or if jealousy surfaces after the event? That’d spoil everything we have, and I could never make it better.”
Harry smiled. “If I can’t stand to watch, I’ll discreetly leave the room. But I really don’t think that’ll be the case. And if I start having nightmares afterwards, all you’ll need to do is remind me it was all my idea. I promise I won’t blame you—you’ve made it very clear that you’d be happy to leave it as a fantasy. Does that put your mind at rest?”
Michelle half-smiled. “I suppose so, but now I’m the one with anxiety.”
He laughed and kissed her forehead. “Well, you’ve got a week to decide what you’re going to wear, and how you’re going to pick him up.”
Michelle nodded, then knocked back her drink in one gulp.
When they got in bed twenty minutes later, both were randy. She reached for him, and he was fairly hard. She climbed on top and started to move on him. He noticed how wet she was and realised he was closer to orgasm than he ought to be. As he worried about coming too soon, his erection started to wilt. Harry closed his eyes so he didn’t have to see Michelle’s disappointment. He cast his mind back to watching from the landing, the quiet hum of the vibrator, the squelching of her juices as she moved it in and out, the grunts she made as she approached orgasm, her screams as she tipped over the edge. His erection was back. Harry thought about the film she’d been watching. In his version of the movie, Michelle was down on all fours, being fucked from behind by the guy with the enormous cock…
Harry let out a groan as he came. He opened his eyes and was about to apologise when he felt her contractions gripping him. Michelle rocked on him for a few more seconds, let out a long sigh then opened her eyes and smiled, her breathing ragged. Obviously the idea of what they’d got planned was working for both of them.
As they lay together, Michelle stroked his chest. “Harry…?”
“Hmm?”
“Are you sure about this?”
He pulled her closer. “Yes.”
“But…”
“But what?” He looked down at her.
Michelle bit her lip. “What if I manage to get a guy—?”
Harry snorted. “You’ll get a guy. You’re gorgeous!”
“Thank you. Okay, say I get a guy who’s happy to come back to our room, and everything’s good. What happens then?”
“If everything’s good, I presume you tell him you want to be fucked hard from behind. If you want the whole fantasy, I suppose you should tell him to come in your mouth as well.”
Michelle pulled away to look into his eyes. “You wouldn’t mind that?”
Harry shrugged. “Not if it’s what you want.”
“I thought you wanted him to wear a condom?”
“I didn’t say that. I just asked if you’d thought about the risks. I suppose we’d have to trust him…”
“But what I’m getting at is, what if the night’s a success?”
“You mean what if you get fucked senseless and I shoot my load in my pants while I’m watching?”
She nodded, then shook her head. “Not the second part. Would that happen?”
Harry shook his head. “No, I don’t think so.”
“Well, what I mean is, what happens after?”
Harry watched her face. She looked serious. Fair enough—it was a very serious question. “I suppose we’ll have to talk about how we felt about it, and decide if it’s the sort of thing we’d want to repeat.”
“Do you think it’s the sort of thing you’d want to witness more than once?”
“I can’t give you a definite answer—but in theory, if we both get as much out of it as we’re hoping…”
Michelle looked thoughtful.
Harry was struck by another issue. “How will you explain to the guy what you want? And my presence?”
She grinned. “I’ll tell him it’s my birthday and that you’d said I can have anything I want. And that I’d chosen him.”
He laughed.
“Or, maybe I could tell him it’s your birthday, and it’s something you’ve always wanted.”
“I think I’d prefer your birthday, otherwise he’ll think I’m a pervert.”
“Harry, if we do this, we’re probably both perverts.”
“Hmm, I hope so.”
Chapter 2
The following Saturday night they were sitting in a crowded bar in Aldershot. Harry found a high table at the back of the bar and hopped up on the stool, almost spilling his Corona. He could just about make out Michelle near the bar through the Saturday night squaddie crowd. He studied his wife, aware that several other men were eyeing her up, too. Harry got the impression that the ‘fishing expedition’ wasn’t going to take very long.
Michelle wore a cream lace blouse, a black fitted skirt that reached her knees, and black high-heels. Her long brown hair appeared to shimmer every time the rotating blue ceiling spotlights passed over her. Within a few minutes, Harry saw a man approach his wife but he left after just a couple of words. She can’t have had time to have made her suggestion, so she can’t have considered him suitable as a bull. Or, he thought, to put it more bluntly—she didn’t want to fuck him. Another guy approached her and she smiled at him, then nodded. Harry felt a lump in his throat, wondering how she could have sorted things out so quickly, but then the guy headed to the bar. Harry chastised himself for his stupidity; Michelle had simply accepted his offer of a drink.
Harry watched the pair of them chatting for about fifteen minutes before Michelle went to get their next round. Harry’s stomach tightened as she leaned closer and whispered into the man’s ear. The music blaring from the speakers made eavesdropping impossible, but from her body language, Harry felt sure she’d just told the man what she wanted—what they wanted. He wished he could have heard their conversation. It would have turned him on.
Michelle took the guy’s hand and l
ed him over to Harry’s table. As they got closer, Harry got a better look at him. He was probably under six feet, but his shoulders were broad. His fair hair was cut very short. He had blue eyes and an unfriendly face, and Harry realised he didn’t like the look of him.
Michelle looked nervous. “Harry, this is Paul. He’s going to help me celebrate my birthday.”
The guy didn’t offer his hand, but simply nodded. Harry nodded back, wondering if he should offer to get them both another drink, but Michelle was obviously eager to get back to the hotel.
“Let’s go.” She headed for the door, still holding Paul’s hand. Harry followed, feeling more emotions than he could count.
The hotel was only a couple of minutes’ walk away, and neither Michelle nor Paul spoke to Harry as they all made their way through the town. The pair of them walked arm in arm, with Harry trailing a couple of paces behind. He wondered what the two of them were thinking—both probably excited, but surely the man found Harry’s presence a strange complication to what was otherwise a very attractive proposition. They walked through the hotel reception and straight to the elevator.
Before they’d left their room, Harry had rearranged the furniture, moving the chair from the desk and putting it in the bay of the window, facing the bed. Only the reading lights over the bed were on, leaving Harry’s chair in relative shadow. Michelle used her card to open the door, and they all moved into the room. Harry hoped she didn’t excuse herself and disappear to the bathroom—he didn’t want to be left alone with the other man. Apart from the dislike he’d felt in the pub, Harry also felt a little intimidated. Something about the way Paul looked at him made him uneasy, but he was determined not to let his unsettled feelings spoil the night. He went straight to the chair and sat, getting out of the way.
Michelle glanced at him, then back at Paul. She took a deep breath, looking self-conscious. “This is weird.”
She bit her lip and reached out, stroked Paul’s chest. “So, when are you going to give me my birthday present?” She moved closer, putting her arms around his waist. Then stood on tiptoes and kissed him on the mouth.
Paul hesitated, but not for long. His huge arms wrapped round her, pulled her close as he returned the kiss. His arms slid lower, and Harry watched as the other man’s hands squeezed his wife’s bum. He watched as the man pulled her against him, no doubt pushing his erection against her. Michelle stepped back as they broke the kiss. She was a little breathless as her fingers fumbled with the buttons of his shirt. Paul glanced in Harry’s direction, then set about undoing Michelle’s blouse. As both garments were removed, Harry noted the sheer difference in size between the two of them. She was very petite, though her shoulders and arms were nicely toned, while Paul was solidly built. He was probably twice as wide as her from shoulder to shoulder. His chest had a smattering of hair, and the muscles in his arms and stomach were well defined—like the men on the covers of the downloaded books.
Michelle undid her skirt and allowed it to slide down her legs. Paul kicked off his shoes and unbuttoned his jeans. He pushed them down, one hand on the bed as he pushed them over his feet, taking his socks with them. The pair stood facing each other wearing only their underwear, with Michelle still in her shoes. Harry held his breath as he watched them taking in each other’s body. Paul reached around and released the clip of her bra and let it fall to the floor. He stared at her boobs for a few seconds then bent and took one of her nipples into his mouth. Harry’s throat was dry as he heard Michelle catch her breath. Paul dropped to his knees and slipped his fingers into the waistband of her panties, pulling them down her thighs and revealing her neatly trimmed silky-black bush. He pushed them all the way down and Michelle stepped out of both panties and shoes.
From his chair, Harry watched as the other man stood and moved his wife to the bed. She sat on the edge and reached forward, rubbing her hand over the material at the front of Paul’s shorts. Harry could see the outline of his cock. Michelle looked up into Paul’s face as she slowly pulled down his shorts. When they reached his thighs, his huge cock sprung out like a jack-in-the-box. Harry stared at it for a couple of seconds, then saw the expression on his wife’s face. Her eyes were wider than he could ever remember seeing them. She reached out tentatively and stroked the shaft with one finger. It twitched, pointed a little higher. She leaned forward and kissed the tip of it, then moved herself back onto the bed and lay down.
Paul reached down to his jeans and took a condom from his pocket. He placed it on the sheet and climbed over Michelle, lying next to her on the far side of the bed.
Harry was relieved he hadn’t blocked his view.
The soldier ran his hand slowly over her breasts and toyed with the nipples, then trailed his hand over her stomach, inching lower and lower. She moaned when his hand reached her sex, let out a sigh as he slipped two fingers inside her. Harry watched as his wife writhed and moaned while being fingered. He felt the first hint of pre-cum in his underwear.
Paul leant over Michelle and watched her face while he finger-fucked her. She was groaning and raising herself up to meet his hand, staring into his eyes. He increased his force and Michelle started arching her back like she’d done with the vibrator. Harry knew she was approaching orgasm. Paul obviously knew it too, and as her moans intensified, he dropped his face to her sex. Harry assumed Paul’s tongue found her clit, because Michelle screamed as she came, pulling his head down and grinding her crotch into his face.
She pushed his hand away and gripped his cock, eager to get it inside her. Paul picked up the condom and ripped the wrapper. Michelle took it from him and placed it over the head, rolling it down the full length. Harry felt a weird thrill from seeing his wife’s tiny hands holding the huge cock and hoped Paul didn’t notice him watching.
Paul climbed between Michelle’s legs and positioned his cock at the entrance to her sex. Harry could see the hairs glistening with her juices. He briefly wondered if she’d be able to take such a huge cock without discomfort. Before he had the chance to dwell on this, he saw Michelle grip Paul’s waist and pull him into her. Harry needn’t have worried. The cock slid in easily and his wife’s reaction was to let out a long, grateful sigh.
She wrapped her legs around the back of Paul’s and moved with him as he fucked her slowly with long, deep strokes. Harry watched, mesmerised as the huge cock—pale yellow in its rubber suit—moved in and out of his wife. She was groaning and writhing and clinging onto him, running her hands over all the muscles in his back and arms. Her eyes were fixed on Paul’s body, watching the rippling in his shoulders and abs as he fucked her. She let out another cry, and Harry knew she was coming again. He watched transfixed as she thrashed and moaned beneath the other man. Harry had to move slightly in his chair to ease the pressure of his erection.
“Oh, yeah, ride me.”
Harry held his breath as Michelle started whispering to her bull.
“Ride me, ride me. Keep feeding that fucking thing right into me. Oh, god…”
Paul raised himself up onto his arms and started banging her. Michelle yelped with each thrust, her eyes now closed, breathing heavily through her mouth. After a short time she rested her hands on his chest and pushed him up. He stopped his thrusts. Harry knew what she was going to say.
“Fuck me from behind. I want you to do me doggy-style.”
As Paul knelt up she flipped over onto all-fours. Harry loved her body, and in this position it looked really good; smooth legs, the perfect swell of her backside, pert boobs pointing down. Paul tried to get into position but his cock was slightly too high—his thighs significantly longer than hers. He stepped to the floor and stood at the foot of the bed. Michelle crawled backwards, and Harry watched the huge cock disappear inside her again. As Paul pushed, Michelle’s eyes shot open in surprise. He was going deeper than earlier, probably deeper than anyone had ever been before, and Harry felt a strange thrill he couldn’t explain. Paul pushed again, and she winced. But after just a few thrusts Michelle was moan
ing again with pleasure, pushing herself back to meet his onslaught. He reached round and groped her breasts, pulling at her nipples. Then he gripped her waist and slammed into her with force. Every thrust caused a shockwave that ran through her hips and up her sides. Her breasts shook. Paul banged her harder and faster, making Michelle grunt through gritted teeth.
Paul turned and sneered at Harry. Anger rose. Who the fuck does he think he is? Suddenly, Harry didn’t want the guy anywhere near his wife. He tried to concentrate on her, watched the cock ploughing in and out and listened to her grunts of pleasure, saw her enjoyment. The guy was now banging as hard as he could, and it was evident to all three of them what would happen very soon.
“Don’t come there.”
Harry hardly recognised his wife’s voice, and Paul didn’t halt his rhythm.