That Sunday, I found myself behind the wheel, driving my wife Rachel to the home of another man. Although she’d offered me several chances to back out, I declined each one. We’d spent the preceding days discussing every detail, establishing boundaries, and in the end, I accepted this was the path I had chosen—ready or not, I would face whatever consequences came.
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Approaching Roy’s house together, we knocked and soon he appeared, exactly as his photos had shown. A burly, older man with a peppered goatee, he wore a worn Carhartt shirt and faded jeans. Rachel contrasted him perfectly in a bright floral dress I’d picked out: low-cut enough to hint at the black bra beneath, and with a matching lace thong hidden under the skirt.
I lingered awkwardly just behind her as Roy’s eyes swept over her, lingering on her chest in a way that sent a knot through my stomach. After a brief silence, he stepped aside and welcomed us in, leading us to the living room. A loveseat sat before the television, flanked by a recliner. He guided Rachel to the loveseat and gestured toward the recliner for me.
“Why don’t you go ahead and take that seat, boy,” he said, his tone firm. The word ‘boy’ twisted in my gut—his intention clear that he would share the loveseat with my wife while I watched from a distance. Glancing past him, I found Rachel already seated, giving me a reassuring smile and nod. Mustering my resolve, I sat alone in the recliner.
Roy settled next to Rachel, spreading his legs until they brushed hers. Small talk started, but as minutes passed, I found myself gradually excluded, leaving only the two of them chatting intimately. His arm slipped around her, pulling her closer; her hands wandered to his muscular legs, lingering there as they snuggled together. Their conversation became flirtatious, and I watched quietly as affection blossomed between them.
Then, their eyes locked, and I recognized the look on Rachel’s face—a look I knew well from our own early dates. She was about to kiss him.
She leaned in, hesitant at first, but Roy responded immediately, turning her close. His large hands explored her lightly beneath the dress. I heard her gasping softly as his palms found her breasts, his lips pressed against her neck, kissing and sucking. Slowly, his hands ventured under her skirt, and Rachel spread her legs willingly, encouraging him breathlessly to continue, telling him she needed him.
His whispered promises of the pleasures to come mingled with kisses, but then he suddenly pulled back and turned toward me.
“Alright, boy,” he said, voice commanding. “Rachel and I will continue alone now. I’m taking her upstairs, and you’re not to disturb us.”
Rachel, cheeks flushed, tried straightening her dress. She caught my gaze and reassured, “Just this first time, babe. I promise—after this, you can watch or listen as much as you want.”
Roy added with a grin, “I guarantee after today she’s going to want this again. Go upstairs—the bedroom’s on the right. I’ll be right after I talk to your husband.”
Rachel gave me a quick kiss and headed upstairs, leaving me alone with Roy. Once the friendly mask slipped away, the man before me seemed stern and unyielding, his eyes cold as he towered over me.
“This is what you’ve been waiting for,” he said, towering over me. “We’ve discussed everything in detail. Once that door closes, you are not to knock, open it, or make a sound. If you like, you can come up and listen. Understand?”
“Yes, Roy,” I replied.
“Sir. When you’re in my house, address me as sir.”
Surprised, I looked up into his fierce glare. The kind man I’d met online was gone. Swallowing my pride, I acquiesced, “Yes… sir.”
He nodded approvingly. “Do not masturbate in my home. If you mess my carpet, I’ll beat you in front of your wife. Clear?”
“Yes, sir,” I muttered, eyes lowered. Satisfied, he strode upstairs after Rachel, the floor creaking beneath his heavy steps. Moments later, the bedroom door shut, enveloping me in silence and my racing thoughts.
I sat alone, imagining what they were doing now. Were they already naked, tangled in each other? What had she promised me in text—the acts he planned to perform? Our sex life was generally routine: missionary, doggy style, sometimes with a vibrator. She had expressed desires for rougher sex, but I never felt capable of delivering it. Rachel had stopped asking me for spanking or dirty talk, and doubt gnawed at me.
The stairs creaked again, snapping me from my reverie. Fearing I’d miss something, I hesitated before heading up. The sounds grew louder—soft moans, creaking bed springs, gruff grunts.
Reaching the hallway, I crept toward a closed white door to the right. Through the gaps, I caught the unmistakable sounds of their lovemaking: teasing kisses, whispered words, erotic gasps. Rachel’s hands roamed his powerful chest; he called her names—slut, bitch—in a voice thick with raw desire. She welcomed every word eagerly, begging him to continue.
Her cries crescendoed, breath ragged and body trembling as she reached climax. Shortly after, Roy’s own release echoed through the room, his guttural shouts filled the space. When quiet settled, I heard Rachel murmur, “That was… intense.”
Kissing resumed softly, then the bed creaked as bodies shifted. Roy excused himself to use a bathroom down the hall, instructing Rachel to clean up in the bedroom.
Nervous, I stepped back as the door opened. Roy emerged, naked and glistening with sweat. I quickly averted my eyes, but they landed on his impressive, still-condom-wrapped cock—thick and swollen, comically tight over his girth, filled with a quantity of fluid I could scarcely imagine producing.
He held it for a moment, then cupped it and shook it lightly before announcing, “I’m going to clean up, boy. When I come back, you’d better be in the car, ready for her.” With that, he walked away.
Peeking inside the room, I saw the aftermath: a tangled bed, discarded clothes, an opened condom wrapper on the floor. The bathroom door was closed.
Following his instructions, I went to prepare the car. It wasn’t long before Rachel and Roy came downstairs. She paused to give him a tender kiss before joining me in the passenger seat.
Quiet and physically spent, she drifted toward sleep on the ride home. At our place, I gently woke her and we went to bed. Though we’d planned for passionate aftercare and reclamation sex, Rachel was still too sore and tired. She offered to use her hands on me instead, promising to take care of me properly tomorrow.
After a half-hearted handjob that left me satisfied, she slipped into sleep. Alone in the dark, I processed the reality of our first experience with Roy.
To be continued, should the story continue exploring our adventures with Roy and others.