It starts with me in my bedroom, separate from theirs. He comes in, sits on my bed, makes a little small talk and asks how I am. We chat a little, but he soon makes his way over to where I sit.
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It’s before dinnertime; he’s probably come in to let me know not to knock on their bedroom door for a while—that he wants to have some ‘special’ time with his wife, and probably won’t be able to answer if I knock. I’d be okay with that of course, if not a little disappointed not to have him to myself tonight, but she’s his wife after all. They’re both older than me, know a little more about how these things work, and need their time together.
He’ll probably smile at me acknowledging that, and further that I wish he’d touch me as I lie on my bed. Maybe some puppydog eyes, or a quiet whine, so his wife can’t hear. She’s making dinner anyway, probably pretty busy. He’ll tenderly explain that it’s just a part of being in a more serious relationship, and that he’s got needs.
He might remark that he’ll come back to me afterwards to take care of anything, and that I crybaby a little too much. I’ll disagree, of course. He’ll pretty promptly recall how his wife doesn’t cry, or pout—she’s a mommy, and she fucks. She’s a grown woman, a proper woman, who knows how to please her husband.
She doesn’t need to squirm and plead for touches or his pleasure, but seduce him or call him to their bedroom, inviting him to a moment of what they’ve grown over years of being married. That’ll hurt, but he’s right. Plus, he’ll double back and reassure me that crying’s okay, needing is okay. And he likes my tighter, inexperienced pussy juuust as much as his wife’s experienced one.
That’ll send me into a spiral, the whines shifting to huffy moans. Maybe some subtle gyrating into my hand, hidden under the covers. Judging by the face down phone just to the right of me, he already could guess what I was up to—a little catch-out move for later, sure to shame me into squeezing tight on his fingers, or cock. He’ll smirk and hum a little, pitying my neediness, even if it’s expressed so politely and quietly.
His wife might then knock on my door, or call for some ‘help’ with dinner. Of course, that only means he’ll be deep inside her, groaning loud and pumping fully into her cunt; the one he’s made babies with, and rutted into, slick and squelching around his dick. Fuck, it just makes me wet.
He’ll get up slowly, not before giving me a kiss or two. Reminding me that patience is a good thing, working to amuse myself, that’s good. I could use it after all, I’ve got a lot to learn compared to them. There’s a reason I’m almost a plaything, not a third. I might use my sweetest, gentlest voice, reach out and make out with him just a little.
Just enough to taste him, let them turn into open-mouthed tongue kisses. He might even begin to get lulled in, wrapping his arms around me, groaning as we make out. But he’s the dom, so he knows it’s all needy girl silliness. Nothing to think too hard on, especially for this girl. All baby and no hard work, either.
He’ll ease out of it, get up to leave, not before telling me to touch myself, edge, but not orgasm until he comes back. That he promises he will, just after mommy’s got his help with whatever she needs. Reminding me that as much as she’s in charge, he is too; that he wants to spend some time with her, more than he does with me right now. And that that’s okay.
What’ll ensue is a quietly closed door, a little chit chat outside it. Turns out she already made dinner, instead she was listening outside the door. They murmur things I can’t hear, and what starts as more casual nothings turns into amused tone, some flirty laughs and sloppy, noisy kisses. Maybe a bump or two from where he’s presumably lifted her up against a wall; maybe the little table down the hallway.
More laughter, now some moans too. Some ‘..fuck’s from him. She’s probably blowing him, I can hear the muffled moans from her mouth on his cock. Maybe I hear my name a few times too, accompanied by some ‘…no, no, don’t say that, ahah’, ‘..she’s just not experienced yet, she needs a little time’, ‘..all wet, just like her, that’s right..’ by him. She’ll gag, and moan some more. These deep, horned up womanly moans.
Maybe I’ll hear some more, as I’m not pressed up against my door, ear to the wood—‘she can hear, she’ll listen. Fuck her, try and make a baby. She wants your baby you know’, ‘I’ll teach her how to suck cock, we can make it all messy together, how about that?’, ‘did you finger her little cunt yesterday? Fuck, did she taste herself too? Bend her, make her do what you want, she’ll do it’.
I just get wetter and wetter. She’s right. She’ll play with me too, and she’s a lot more forthright than he is. Not to him, but to me? Different rules. She’s almost a bully if it weren’t for how mommy she gets when it’s over; she’ll be stroking my hair and defending me when he goes too far as soon as we’re finished playing with each other.
Either way, they’re probably fucking at this point—the rhythmic thuds against a wall outside my room make it obvious, but the loud expletives and sound of skin on skin confirms it. I do hope he comes back to me after..maybe he’s still got some cum left for my aching pussy, maybe even let me eat her out to taste it right from in between her legs.
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