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My wife and I were ten years in our relationship, and sex had become this boring habit. We’d talk about it while zoning out on the couch after dinner, agreeing we wanted that raw energy back. Two years ago, we decided to crack the door open on our marriage. We weren’t idiots about it. We set rules: be upfront about everything, use protection with new people, and hit pause if anyone felt off. We tried the apps, hooked up with a few locals or whatever, and pulled off one messy threesome too.
My best friend was still raw from his wife dying in a car accident four years ago. He forced a couple dates, but they’d fizzle; the man was just numb. One Tuesday evening while a few glasses of wine down, my wife looks over and says, “Your buddy. We get him, no games, and this might shake him loose a bit.” I felt queasy but nodded. Made sense, zero risk with creeps. We texted him on the spot: grab a beer here. He pulled up twenty minutes later, all of us slouched on the couch like old times.
It turned when she edged closer, her palm flat on his leg. He glanced my way, eyebrows up. I said “go ahead,” voice cracking a little, and they stood, bumping shoulders as they hit the bedroom. I hung back, squeezed into the chair next to the dresser.
They paused, awkward giggles, then she tugged his polo off, lips on his shoulder. He let out a breath he’d been saving, popping her shorts button by button till they were naked and clumsy. He moaned, fingers bruising her sides, pumping up and cranking it. She leaned in, urging “faster, yea.” He flipped her flat, legs wide, drilling steady till she clenched and bucked, yelling. He followed quick, shoving deep with a choked sound, then flopping beside her, chests heaving.
I couldn’t look away, turned on stupid hard, but it wasn’t ugly jealous. Just this solid kick from her being so damn into it, face all slack and happy. Got to me soft too, like we’d shared a secret weight. We piled on the bed after, talking. Everyone nodded, no bullshit.
These days, we’re straight up cuckold mode, owning it. He’s the bull, comes over twice weekly to run the show, nailing her while I sit quiet in the low light, hand busy, locked on the action. Her face down ass up getting plowed, or grinding him cowgirl style right in my line of sight. I handle the aftercare a lot, mouth on her full and dripping. It’s nasty, close, and it clicks. We communicate better, fights die fast; she’s got this easy confidence, owning what she wants. I live for that handover thrill, the trust hit. Sometimes we engage in threesomes and massages too. Sometimes groupd workouts.
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