I confided in a close friend about a long-held fantasy of mine—a passionate MFM encounter involving my wife. I was aware he found her irresistible. After all, she’s a petite woman, barely five feet tall and around 100 pounds, blessed with curves in all the right places: a stunning 34DD chest and an undeniably pretty face.
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He hesitated, asking if she was genuinely open to the idea. I assured him we had discussed it thoroughly, and that he was the only friend I trusted she’d entertain such a possibility with. He nodded, saying, “Damn, man, she’s smoking hot. But I’d want to talk to her first—to make sure she’s truly on board.” I agreed, telling him to think it over, no pressure at all.
Weeks later, we gathered at his place for a cookout. After everyone drifted away, I headed inside for a moment to use the bathroom and grab us one final round of drinks. When I returned, I found him sitting beside my wife, sharing laughter and smiles. He caught my eye and said, “We’ve been talking, and honestly, I really want to make love to your wife. But here’s the thing…”
His revelation caught me off guard: he wanted me to watch. Taken aback, I replied that it wasn’t exactly the plan we’d outlined, but ultimately, it was her choice. I looked at her. She simply smiled and said, “Why not?”
He draped an arm over her shoulders and with both hands began fondling her breasts, squeezing gently. “I’ve always wanted to see these,” he murmured. Wearing a sundress, she slipped the strap off one shoulder, revealing her breast. They leaned into a hungry kiss, his hands exploring as her fingers brushed against the bulge beneath his shorts. She worked at his waistband, attempting to free him, until he stood and helped her pull out his cock.
She glanced at it and breathed, “Oh my.” Since his back faced me, I couldn’t see her expression, but curiosity pulled me around for a better view. I was stunned—he was thick, a girth that amazed me. She wrapped her hand around him, stroking, but her fingers barely met. Then she took him into her mouth, swallowing as deeply as she could.
He guided her up to standing while I sat, fingers teasing through my own shorts. Placing her hands gently on my knees, she bent over, lifting her sundress, sliding her thong aside. He settled behind her, tongues flicking against her folds as he eagerly licked her pussy from behind. I reached to pull her head down to me, craving her lips, but she shook her head firmly.
“You watch. You don’t touch,” she insisted.
He rose and positioned himself behind her, sliding inside. Her eyes widened, and a deep groan escaped her lips—a sound I’d never heard before. His rhythm picked up, her gaze locked on mine with a mischievous smile playing on her lips. As his thrusts intensified, she moaned, “Fuck yeah, fuck me.” The pace grew relentless; she called out my name, breathless, “He’s fucking me so good. Oh god, his cock feels amazing.”
He halted abruptly and sat beside me, pulling her astride him. Guiding him inside with ease in one smooth motion, she began riding him passionately. Their lips met, feverish kisses fueling her movement as she worked toward release. “I’m coming,” she whispered, her breath catching. He grunted, warning he was close too.
She bounced harder, begging, “Oh yes, give me that cum. Deep inside me.” Over and over, she repeated her desire until he grunted fiercely, flooding her depths with his seed.
Afterward, we finished our drinks and called it a night. On the drive home, she was quiet, thoughtful. I broke the silence, telling her how incredibly hot I thought the whole experience was. A relieved sigh escaped her lips. “Oh thank god—I was worried you’d be upset.”
“Not at all,” I assured her. “That was the most erotic thing I’ve ever witnessed.” She smiled softly and mentioned she could still feel him inside her, his warmth slowly trailing down her legs.
Since then, we’ve shared this arrangement every few weeks. Sometimes I join in; more often, my role is to watch—captivated and eager for the next time.
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