by Vivian Ward
“Mmm, you two look so good,” I say, taking each of their cocks into my hands.
Taking one at a time, I alternate between giving head and stroking them until both of their cocks are rock hard, dripping with pre-cum.
Before things can go any further, Tom joins us. He’s completely naked, wearing nothing but a smile and I can’t say that I blame him.
“Any way I could get in on the action?” he teases.
“Sure,” I purr to him, opening my mouth.
All three of them are standing before me getting stroked or sucked, and they’re all loving it.
It’s so hot to look up at the three of them with their dicks in my hands or my mouth.
“Why don’t we take care of you?” my husband says, lifting me off of the floor up onto the bed.
I know he’s only manhandling me like this in front of the guys to make himself look more dominant, but I like it. Giggling, I bounce on the springs of the mattress and watch them all crawl onto the bed with me.
My husband leans over me and begins kissing me while Shawn sucks on my nipples, leaving Hunter to start eating me out. It’s sensation overload to be relaxed in my own bed with the three of them taking care of everything, but God does it feel good!
Making out with my husband while the others go down on me and play with my breasts is almost too much to handle, and I’m ready for a change.
As soon as my husband breaks our kiss, I pop my head up for a second.
“Let’s change things up a little,” I suggest.
Tom can sense that I’m a little overwhelmed right off the bat, so he suggests that one of them gets things started while I just give head to him and one other person.
Just like the night at the campsite, Hunter decides to go first. After putting on a condom, he enters me with ease, and I allow him to start thrusting into me as I alternate giving blowjobs to Tom and Shawn while they play with my breasts until my husband gets greedy.
Tom leans over my face, his cock directly lined up with my face and begins fucking my mouth as I continue stroking Shawn’s cock while his friend pounds me until he’s finished, but it doesn’t take long for him to reload.
Shawn eagerly moves between my legs next and starts fucking me as I continue to deep throat my husband. Moments later, Hunter rejoins us for round two, and I begin stroking him until my husband frees up my mouth.
“Let’s try something different,” my husband says. “Shawn, you lie on the bed and babe, you ride him reverse cowgirl so I can eat your pussy while he fucks you.”
Eager to try this new position, I let Shawn get situated on the pillows before I climb on top of him, riding him backwards. Hunter patiently awaits his blow job while my husband positions himself between Shawn’s legs.
Oh.
My.
God.
The sensation of having my husband go down on me while another man is fucking me is unbelievably fan-fucking-tastic!
I feel like an angel who has gone to heaven and is having a devilish out-of-body experience. His tongue is masterfully working my clit while Shawn’s thick cock stretches me and it feels insanely good.
Tingling waves orgasmic shock pulsate from my clit to my core, and there’s no stopping it in sight.
Unable to continue pleasing Hunter, I grip the bed sheets, balling fistfuls of them in my hands as I ride out the longest, hardest, toe curling orgasm in my entire life. For a minute, when I close my eyes, I swear I see stars.
When it’s finally over, I’m embarrassed by how loudly I just came all over another man’s cock and judging by their expressions, they’re as shocked as I am, but it doesn’t stop them from finishing.
With a few more pumps, Shawn finishes in record time—probably because my walls have become to tense since I came, and my husband is incredibly anxious for his turn.
Grabbing my ankles, Tom pulls me to the edge of the bed and thrusts into me in one swift motion as he holds my arms out to their sides.
Greedily sucking Hunter’s cock, I can feel my breasts bouncing with each thrust my husband delivers. When my jaws feel like they’re about to give out, Hunter pulls his cock out of my mouth and begins to jack off all over my chest and stomach.
Something about watching another man come all over my chest does something to my husband because he starts working double time, hammering away until he loses control and I feel him pulsating inside of me.
Collapsing on top of me, we lie breathlessly, sucking for air as we come down from our rush. We’re the only two in the room as Hunter and Shawn have excused themselves momentarily to clean up and get something to drink.
“You’re the best damn wife any husband could ever wish for,” he kisses my nose.
“Thank you,” I giggle.
“Are you surprised?” I ask him.
“Very! How did you pull this off without me knowing? And better yet, how did you get a hold of them?”
“I have my ways,” I tease. “I got their numbers the day we left while you were loading up the car. You’d said you had two regrets: that we weren’t sober and—,” we say this next part together, “that we would’ve taped it.”
We both laugh out loud.
“Yeah, but you know what?” I say, bouncing my finger along his sternum.
“Hmm?”
“I had us covered this time. Everyone was sober and,” I pop up off the bed and make my way over to the dresser. “I got every bit of it recorded—starting before you got home.”
His face lights up like a Christmas tree.
“You did?”
I nod.
“Yep, best wife ever!” I tease.
Epilogue
Tom
There’s no doubt that I still love watching the recording that Beth captured the night that she surprised me with Hunter and Shawn coming over to our house. It’s easily my favorite piece of our homemade porn.
Since that night, we’ve made a commitment to one another that we’d do more to be spontaneous and to become more creative with our sex life.
While menages are incredibly hot and sexy, there’s nothing sexier than making—and watching—homemade porn with just the two of us. I don’t ever want her to think that she needs—or that I need—other men in the bedroom to have a good time or get either of us off.
Sure, it had always been a long-term fantasy of mine but I never thought it’d become a reality. The one thing that I am grateful for is the camping trip my friends backed out on.
If it weren’t for them backing out on me, that night would have never happened. Beth might have just stayed home or maybe she would’ve came and we would’ve just hung out with my buddies and ignored Shawn and Hunter.
There’s no telling how that weekend could have went, but I’m glad that it turned out the way it did. It taught me—and Beth—a lot about ourselves and our sex life, and it has made us a stronger couple.
We’re still exhibitionists but we play more and experiment more than we ever did before. We are also discussing the idea of possibly becoming swingers, but that idea is still kind of floating loosely in the air.
As for Hunter and Shawn, Hunter ended up getting an out-of-state job offer and moved away, but we occasionally still see Shawn. He and the wife talk pretty regularly, and I’m okay with that.
Sometimes he stops by for cookouts while other times he comes for threesomes. Of course, he never expects them but is always up for it when the opportunity arises.
I really think that Beth has developed a little crush on him, but I’ve never confronted her about it. I don’t want to make her uncomfortable, plus I think it’s sort of cute.
She tries to hide it the best she can, but I don’t care. She’s mine and we both know that nothing will ever change that.
Our relationship is much better in terms of communication. We are much more inclined to talk about our fantasies with one another and have done quite a bit of role playing and tried a few new fetishes.
All of this has enhanced every part of our relation
ship that you can possibly think of, and we are a much happier. When Beth comes home from work, she’s always talking about how she was talking about me to one of her patients and there’s look of renewed love in her eyes that wasn’t there before.
I think we’ve both learned to appreciate each other more and learned not to take one another for granted. As much as we like Shawn and think he’s a great guy, he’s still very much living an active dating life.
We see him jump from one crazy girl to the next, always looking for the one. He’s basically chasing after what I have with Beth, and I can’t say that I blame him. She’s pretty awesome.
I remember being that young guy looking for a woman like my wife. I hope one day he finds what he’s looking for but I’ll just continue to sit back and enjoy what’s mine.
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Our Dirty Secret
For all the sexy ladies who aren’t afraid to go after what they want!
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Chapter 1
I should have known when I found the porn on my husband’s computer. I mean, how stupid was I?
Well, it’s not that I’m stupid, but I just didn’t see the signs. The clues that he had left behind. Little tiny traces all over.
Walking through the door, I toss my work bag and purse down by the door as our youngest son, Alex, rushes toward me.
“Mommy! Mommy!” his little fists clenching open and closed as he reaches out to me.
I’ve always loved how he greets me when I come home. His brother and sisters couldn’t care less about welcoming me when I walk through the door, and maybe that’s why I adore him so much. He still loves his mom; he needs me.
“Hey, baby!” I pick him up, squeezing him in a bear hug.
“What’s for dinner?” he asks.
“Um, I don’t know.”
I look over at my husband who is sitting at his computer desk; his usual spot since he works from home. I don’t know how he does it because I’d go stir-crazy. I love human interaction and have to talk to people. Out of the two of us, I’m the outgoing one.
He doesn’t mind the solitude of working from home, though. In fact, I think he prefers it. The only time he’s not at his desk is if he’s sitting on his throne (in the bathroom) or if he’s outside with the kids.
“Any ideas?” I ask my husband, Brett.
“I don’t know, babe,” he sighs. “I haven’t even thought of dinner; I just figured you knew what we were having.”
Right.
Because I always do the cooking and it’s always my responsibility. For being as thoughtful as he is, he sometimes takes little things for granted, such as eating for example.
A part of me feels guilty for expecting him to cook dinner. He works just the same as I do but my job is more physically demanding. The biggest part of my guilt is that while he is always cooped up in the house all day with the kids while he works, I’ve been at work surrounded by men who smile and whistle at me, stroking my ego all day long. My stress doesn’t begin until I’m cooking dinner while the dogs play at my feet and I have to referee the kids while I try to get laundry started.
He’s a good husband, and I couldn’t ask for better. Sometimes I wake up to gift cards from Bath & Body Works or Victoria Secret sitting in my inbox. Other times, I wake up to the sound of him playing with the kids and taking care of the dogs while he lets me sleep in late.
But it’s usually me who wakes up to him snoring, mumbling incoherent babble in his sleep while I start the coffee and let the dogs out to potty before I get the kids ready for school so I can get myself out the door.
I’m sure it’s stressful for him to work with the kids in the house on their days off or letting the dogs out every couple of hours, but he doesn’t complain. Of course, judging by the way the couch cushions are scattered across the living room and the massive amount of dirty dishes, he probably doesn’t pay that much attention to them when he’s busy.
“I’ll go get something started,” I say reluctantly.
As good as he is to me, I don’t know why I allow the guys at work to flirt with me, or why I flirt back. I mean, it’s harmless flirting, but I like the attention. I like knowing that even though I’m a married woman with a family, I’ve still got it.
If I’m going to be completely honest, it scares the hell out of me that my 40th birthday is right around the corner. I’m halfway to middle age.
Fucking middle aged!
I don’t want to be middle aged. I don’t want to get older, but it’s inevitable. So yeah, if I’ve still got it, I want to know it. Who wants to get old, shrivel up and die?
Certainly not me. I’m terrified of aging, and that’s probably why my husband rolls his eyes every time I come home from Sephora or Ulta. I’ve got enough lotions and creams to keep my skin young and smooth to last a lifetime, but I’m always on the hunt for the latest and greatest miracles.
From the kitchen, it’s hard to ignore all of the kids arguing in the living room. The boys, Alex and Dakota, are fighting their sisters, Angie and Karen, for the TV. From what I can tell, the boys want to play a racing game, and the girls want to watch the latest episode of Supernatural.
“Babe?” I call out to my husband, tired of hearing the kids fighting.
“I’m on it,” he replies.
That’s the great thing about him, about us. I never have to tell him things. He just always knows. Maybe he can tell by the tone of my voice, or maybe it’s because he’s my best friend and I’m madly in love with him, and he can just read me that well.
Even though I might flirt, and sometimes say inappropriate things to the guys at work, I’d never cheat on him. He’s truly my soul mate. There is nothing or no one that would ever make me want to leave him. Like I always say, “The grass is never greener on the other side. It’s just covered in a different kind of fertilizer.” We all have our own shit, our own past, our own problems and I don’t want anyone else’s. I’ve got exactly what I want right here at home.
Wiping my hands on a dish towel, I lean against the wall as I watch him give Alex a piggyback ride over to the couch and flip on something all the kids will love: Jumanji.
With a sigh, I realize that the dish towel I just used to clean my hands is covered in a yellow, sticky substance and now I have to rewash my hands.
It’s one of the perks of being a mom, I suppose. You never know quite what you’re getting your hands into until they’re already dirty.
I can’t wait for Sunday and Monday, my days off so I can give this house a good cleaning from top to bottom. I spend more time scrubbing baseboards on my days off than I do relaxing.
“Hey woman,” Jeremy says as I walk over to his station to take inventory of his supplies. “You smell good today.”
Of course, I smell good. Every day before work, I shower and put on one of my many bottles of body spray. It’s usually a toss between Japanese cherry blossom, Paris, or one of the latest scents that just hit the market.
Before I started working here, I never actually wore body sprays or anything. I had a few bottles of designer perfume that I’d wear on occasion when my husband and I would go on a particular date, but that’s about the only time I wore something.
“You like that, huh?” a grin spreads across my face as I lean a little closer for him to get a better whiff of what I’m we
aring.
Buying into my bullshit, he leans in closer to me and smells my body spray.
“Mmm, I like that,” he says. “Will you bring me some more markers when you get a minute? These are all dried out, and we’ve got a big order coming up, so I’ll need them.”
Writing on my supply sheet, I take note of his station number and circle markers.
“Anything else?” I ask.
“I could ask for more, but that might get me in trouble if you know what I mean,” his eyebrows dance as his eyes scan my body.
“Jeremy!” I wad up a piece of paper and throw it at him. “You’re married, and so am I!”
A stupid giggle escapes my mouth before I can stop it and I realize that I’m blushing. He always does that to me.
I don’t know why he has such an effect on me, but he does. His sense of humor is what attracts me to him most, I think.
“Go get my markers hot stuff, and make it quick or I’ll have to come looking for you back in the supply room where we’ll be all alone.”
As he towers over me, I can’t help but stare at him with my cheesy smile.
Jeremy makes me laugh, and he’s very friendly, maybe too friendly. If we were both younger and single, I could see me dating someone like him but not now even though there’s a certain chemistry between us.
Still walking around with my supply sheet, I get to Larry’s station and ask him if he needs anything before I make my rounds.
These are my favorite days: when I’m the supply runner for our line. It gives me a day off the machines where I can just run and get everyone stuff that they need. It’s a nice change.
“I could use some more boxes, 6x24’s.”
“You got it,” I scribble down his machine number.