My boyfriend has a passion for dressing me in something outrageously sexy—something revealing enough that he can fuck me passionately and parade me around town with pride. This time, he gave my husband a strict order: pick out the dress I would wear for our evening. The catch? It had to be daring, especially highlighting my breasts, since that’s his undeniable favorite feature.
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The stakes were high. If my husband failed to choose a dress that truly pleased my boyfriend, he wouldn’t be allowed to touch me or find release when I returned home. The pressure on him was intense, but luckily, he remembered a few sheer dresses from last year that I hadn’t yet worn with my boyfriend.
As soon as my boyfriend saw me in that translucent fabric, his eyes widened in delight. With a grin, he gave my husband a nod of approval—“Not bad, you got this right.” Later, he rewarded him with a photo: a raw, intense moment of him cumming on my face after our date, a token of his satisfaction.
Walking along the beach strip, I felt deliciously exposed in that sheer dress and nothing but a thong underneath. My boyfriend’s hands never left my firm ass, his grip reminding me of his control. He whispered relentlessly about how eagerly he planned to choke me with his cock, demanding a picture to send my husband. He promised even rougher sex after that.
And true to his word, he didn’t hold back. He thrust deeply and wildly inside me, calling me his slut, taunting my husband with wicked demeaning words that he knew my husband secretly savored. He came inside me twice and once more on my face, marking me completely.
Yet, just when I thought we were done, he teasingly told my husband he’d have no sex with me that night—simply because he enjoyed knowing my husband obeyed him. That cheeky dominance only added fuel to the fire.
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