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Our son is almost a year old now. Cindi and I are very happy but utterly exhausted parents. The days blend into nights of feedings, diaper changes, and those precious moments when he smiles up at us with those big eyes that look so much like hers. Her parents offered to take him for the weekend, giving us our first real time alone since he was born. It felt like a gift from the heavens. We planned a romantic evening at home, nothing fancy, just the two of us reconnecting after months of baby-centered chaos. Cindi cooked a marvelous meal. Pan-seared salmon with lemon herb butter, roasted asparagus, and garlic mashed potatoes. The kitchen smelled incredible, warm and inviting, a far cry from the quick microwave dinners we had been surviving on. I brought home a bottle of her favorite Cabernet Sauvignon and a large bouquet of red roses, their petals soft and velvety, the scent filling the car on the drive back.
We ate by candlelight at the dining table, laughing about the little things. How our son had just started babbling what sounded like “mama” and “dada,” how we both missed sleeping through the night but would not trade it for anything. The wine loosened us up, and by dessert, a simple chocolate mousse she had whipped up, our hands were brushing across the table, fingers intertwining. After dinner, we cleaned up together, stealing kisses in the kitchen, my hands on her waist as she rinsed plates. It felt like dating again. We retired to the bedroom, the air charged with anticipation. Cindi slipped into the bathroom to change, emerging in a very skimpy negligee. Black lace, sheer enough to tease the outline of her curves, the straps thin and delicate over her shoulders. Her breasts strained against the fabric, nipples visible through the mesh, and the hem barely covered her thighs. She looked stunning, her body softer and fuller after pregnancy, but no less desirable.
We lay down on the bed, the sheets fresh and cool against our skin. I pulled her close, our bodies pressing together as we started kissing. Slow at first, lips brushing, then deeper, tongues exploring. My hands roamed her body, sliding under the negligee to cup her breasts, thumbs circling her nipples until they hardened under my touch. She moaned softly into my mouth, her fingers trailing down my chest, over my stomach, to the waistband of my boxers. She tugged them down, her hand wrapping around my cock, stroking me slowly, feeling me grow hard in her grip. I slipped a hand between her thighs, finding her already wet, my fingers parting her folds, rubbing her clit in gentle circles. The room filled with our heavy breathing, the soft sounds of skin on skin.
Cindi paused suddenly, pulling back with a small smile. She got out of bed and said she wanted to go make sure she had locked the front door. That seemed odd. We had not heard anything, and it was not like her to interrupt like that. But I did not think much of it. Maybe new parent paranoia. She left the room, her negligee swishing softly as she walked away. She returned quickly, maybe a minute later, and climbed back into bed, her body warm against mine as we resumed our foreplay. The kissing intensified, her lips hungry on mine, her hand pumping my cock a little faster. I fingered her deeper, feeling her walls clench around my digits, her juices coating my hand.
After a bit, she told me to lay on the bed backwards, head toward the foot. I complied without question, stretching out on my back. She climbed on top of me in the 69 position, her thighs straddling my face, her pussy hovering just above my mouth. Her ass cheeks spread slightly, giving me a perfect view. She leaned forward, her breasts brushing my stomach, and took my cock into her mouth. Warm, wet suction enveloped me. She was very good at that, tongue swirling around the head, lips sliding up and down the shaft, taking me deep enough to make me groan. I began to lick her pussy, my tongue flat against her folds, lapping at her clit, tasting her familiar tang. She ground down a little, encouraging me.
My thoughts drifted back to what I had felt and witnessed in this very bedroom that day over a year ago. The strangers. The cum. The way it had all unfolded. I tried to push it out of my mind, tell myself I was over that. That it was in the past. We had a family now. Suddenly, I thought I heard something outside our bedroom. A soft creak, maybe the front door closing quietly. I stopped licking to listen, my ears straining. Cindi pushed her pussy harder into my face, her voice breathy. “Keep going. I’m close.” I complied again, tongue flicking faster over her clit, hands gripping her thighs.
Then I saw it. A shadow looming over my head, cast by the bedside lamp. The unmistakable outline of a huge cock, thick and veined, heading straight toward my wife’s wet hole. My heart slammed in my chest. I immediately knew what was going on. Cindi had not gone to make sure the front door was locked. She had made sure it was unlocked so he could come in. One of them. Or maybe a new one. But that shadow, that size. It had to be the tall one from before, the one with the long, curved cock that dwarfed mine. Bigger than me in every way. I kept licking her clit as his cock ran across my tongue, sliding into her hole. The taste hit me instantly. Salty skin, a hint of pre-cum. He only went in a little ways at first, teasing her entrance, the head dipping in and out. She stopped sucking me, her mouth lifting off my cock as she started to moan low in her throat.
He kept teasing her like that, shallow thrusts that made her hips buck. She started to beg for his cock. “Please. Give it to me. I need all of it.” Her voice was desperate, needy in a way she rarely was with me. After a bit, he slid the entire length into her slowly. It was so long. So big. Thicker at the base, curving up to hit her deepest spots. When he pushed it all the way in, his balls smashed against my face and my tongue. Heavy, musky sacks pressing down, the skin slightly damp with sweat. I kept licking her clit, my tongue now brushing against his shaft as it moved. Her juices flooded out onto my face and into my mouth, slick and warm, mixing with the salty taste of his cock. He started pounding her, deep steady thrusts that made her body rock above me. For over ten minutes he went at it, the wet slap of skin echoing in the room. His cock kept sliding across my tongue with every withdrawal, veiny and hot. His balls kept pressing into my face, the strong smell overwhelming. Like he had been working all day and had not showered yet. Musky, earthy, intoxicating. It filled my nostrils, made my head spin.
Cindi kept ignoring my cock, her attention completely on him, transfixed by the pounding, so hard and so deep. As was I. Watching from below, inches away, that massive shaft disappearing into her stretched pussy. It was for the best that she ignored me. If she had put me back in her mouth at that moment, I would have instantly erupted. All the feelings of my masculinity eroding came rushing back, stronger than ever. Here I was, lying passive, licking while a real man took her. His cock so much bigger than mine. What would it feel like to suck that? To have it fill my mouth instead? The thought made me throb untouched, questioning everything about myself as a man.
He finally pressed into her as hard and deep as he could. I put my hand underneath her belly to brace her, and I could feel the bulge of his huge cock pressing outward, distending her skin. He let out a primal groan, animalistic and raw, and started pumping his cum into her. It went on for over fifteen seconds, pulse after pulse. My wife let out a scream of ecstasy like I had never heard before, her body convulsing as she came with him, her walls milking his length. She was accepting his seed into her body, filling her uterus, flooding into her fallopian tube. I could feel each pulse against my face and my tongue, which I kept pressed firmly against her clit, prolonging her orgasm. The heat of it radiated through her, as he made another baby inside her.
He pulled out slowly, inch by inch, his cock glistening with their combined fluids. A huge glob of chunky warm semen slid right down onto my tongue and into my mouth. More kept trickling out, thick and viscous, pooling in my open mouth. I savored it, the salty bitterness mixed with her sweetness. I swallowed, loving the way it coated my throat. Real men would never like the taste of another man’s cum like this. But I do. I wish I could have more. Their testosterone-infused seed sliding down my throat. Ingesting it. Taking small bits of my masculinity away with every swallow. The thought excites me. Makes me feel submissive. Less. Smaller. And that only makes my cock harder.
Then I heard him say, “Clean this up for me.” His voice deep, commanding. He plunged his cock into my mouth. I almost could not open wide enough for the girth. He pushed it in, and it felt like it went all the way down my throat. Hot, slick, tasting of her pussy and his cum. I gagged, eyes watering, but the sensation was electric. He pulled it out a little, then pushed back in one more time. That felt amazing. The fullness, the dominance. He pulled free, and said, “Clean her up too.” I continued to lick the cum out of my wife’s stretched-out pussy, tongue delving deep, scooping out every drop I could reach. She finally put her mouth around my cock again, warm suction enveloping me. I immediately exploded, hips bucking as I filled her mouth with my load, the orgasm crashing through me like a wave.
I felt so degraded after I came, lying there with the taste of him still on my tongue, her pussy still leaking remnants onto my chin. But I loved the feeling. The humiliation. The submission. Cindi offered no explanation about what had just happened. She just rolled off me, curled against my side, and kissed my cheek as if it had all been part of our romantic night. But this answered a lot of questions about her knowing what she was doing and her knowing what I knew. I guess, even from the first time, she was not really trying that hard to hide it. But what does that say about me as a man? What does all of this say about me? Am I even a man anymore, or just a willing participant in my own erosion? How will I feel is she gets pregnant again, watching her belly swell, knowing for sure this time that the baby is his. The questions linger, but so does the thrill.