For a long time, I had been encouraging my wife to be playful and flirtatious with other men. I confessed my fantasies openly, telling her how much I longed for a threesome where I could watch her get wild and uninhibited with someone else. We had even experimented with toys, practicing the dynamics, but had never taken the leap.
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Then, one day, she surprised me by admitting she created a Tinder profile and was chatting with someone. She said they really connected and that he made her laugh. She shyly confessed that he had slipped over while I was at work, and she’d straddled him on the couch, kissing him passionately. At that moment, I felt my desire ignite, and she checked to see if I was okay with it. I was.
The following evening, when I asked if she was up for sex, she told me that the Tinder guy had been inviting her over all day, and it was starting to tease her playfully. She wanted to meet him and asked if I’d truly be okay with her visiting him instead. After years of encouraging her, I couldn’t say no. Reluctantly, I agreed. Within an hour, she was dressed up and out the door.
Thirty minutes later, she messaged, “here,” then went silent. Night stretched long and restless as I imagined what she might be doing. More than two hours passed before her next message: “showering.” I immediately asked if she had slept with him. Her reply came simply: “yes.” Then silence until 6 a.m., when she returned home, undressed, and slipped into bed beside me. My heart poundingly raced; I had barely slept.
I turned to her, kissed her gently, and shakily asked her to tell me everything. She began softly: “As soon as I got out of the car, we kissed. We walked to his bedroom where he kissed me deeper. Then he steppped back, admiring my body before stripping my dress off, and we tumbled back onto the bed together. After some heavy petting, we were both naked. I moved down and started to blow him.”
I couldn’t hold back. “What size was he?”
Her eyes widened, meeting mine. “Big… and curved downward, so it slid into my throat easier. I felt proud when I finally took it all in.”
“Did he come in your mouth?” I cautiously pressed.
“No.”
“Did he wear a condom?”
She looked sheepish. “No.”
My chest tightened. “So, where did he come?”
She smiled devilishly. “Inside me. Three times. After the first time, I messaged you that I was showering. That’s when he tried to fuck me in the shower again. Then back in the bed, he came a second time. We fell asleep, and when he woke up he rolled me over and slid inside me for his third. I left soon after and came home. I swear, he’s still leaking out of me now.”
I grew hard again, overwhelmed realizing just how wild my wife had been for his large cock.
I told her to climb on top of me now. She warned, “You’ll have to be gentle, I’m very sore. He hit me deep and stretched me plenty.” She settled onto my hard length with a slight wince and a playful sigh, sliding all the way down. It was wet and sticky—his cum still slick on me, dripping down my shaft and balls. I noticed a wet spot on the bed afterward, and it wasn’t mine.
Leaning close, I asked her to whisper in my ear how she had begged for his cum, and to admit she was a slut for his cock. She did, and hearing those words sent me spiraling over the edge. But just before I could finish, she rolled off me and let my partially ruined orgasm spray across my chest, giggling and teasing, telling me her pussy wasn’t for my cum today.
When she left the night before, I never imagined my wife would come home with a wrecked, dripping pussy—and use it to tease me so deliciously the next morning.
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