Wednesday, April 24, 2013

...Or If Your Husband's Joining In?

This is part two... read part one here

The guys, Tommy and Brad and Frank, were coming over this evening.  Mark, my husband, had not said another word since that evening when he let on that he may not have slept all the way through our wedding night, and I’d been so busy getting our new home together that I’d scarcely had time to think about it, either.

But now, with the clock defiantly clicking down the last six or seven hours before the threesome arrived for some Monday Night Football, I was definitely getting nervous. 

That night, our wedding night, had been a one-off.  I was horny, they were there, Mark was unconscious.  End of story.  At the same time, though... my girlfriends and I don’t have many secrets from each other, and not one of them has ever mentioned fucking and sucking three guys at once.  So I also felt kinda proud of myself, and so long as Mark, if he knew, didn’t get weird about it, well no harm, no foul.

A van pulled up outside and I stood up from the couch where I’d been polishing some silverware.  Mark had invested in a wide screen TV ... and I mean wide!  It devoured half the wall in our living room... and the cable company was here to set it up.  I had a list of questions I was supposed to ask, and another sheet of paper to write the answers down on.  I opened the front door, waited while the engineer collected his tools and paperwork, then stood aside to let him in.

We chatted cheerfully.  One thing about cable guys that I’ve always noticed.  They’re friendly.  Some of the people you invite into your home in order to get something fixed or serviced can be utter miseries, dragging a black cloud of their own job dissatisfaction around, and making you wish you had the time to learn plumbing, electrical work and furnace maintenance yourself, just so you never had to see their sad little faces.  But cable guys, they come bouncing in, all excited about whatever equipment they’re installing, full of geek talk delight at things they’ve never seen before, and this one... “hi, I’m Terry”... was no different.

I led him into the living room; then, because it felt a little rude to just plop back onto the sofa, I settled myself on the floor to watch him work and continue with my polishing.  And it was only after I’d caught him glance curiously over two or three times that I realized... oh my god.

Mark, my husband, likes having his cock sucked.  Of course he does, he’s a guy.  But he especially likes it if I kneel on the floor, my legs parted wide enough for him to slip a foot between them, while I look up into his face and angle his cock down....  Well, that’s how I was positioned now.  Without the cock, of course.  But the open legs, the upturned face, wide-eyed and waiting... I think I flushed crimson, and I drew my legs closed, then buried myself in my silverware.  

My questions were answered, the responses noted down, the screen was installed.  Terry handed me the remote control and standing beside me... for some reason, I remained on my knees... guided me through its operation.  His hands were firm but gentle when they brushed against mine as he pointed out the buttons, but I don’t think he noticed as I turned to say something and my cheek brushed the warmth of his pants.  Or maybe he did, because suddenly we were frozen, Terry standing, me still kneeling, legs slightly parted, face turned up towards him....

Twenty, thirty seconds passed.  Neither of us spoke, neither of us moved.  And the longer it lasted, the more I knew.  Both of us were thinking exactly the same thing.  And both of us were too damned chicken shit to speak.  Finally I broke the spell, stood, and thanked him for everything.  He gave me a few sheets of paperwork to sign, gathered his things and left.

Get a grip, woman.

I finished the silverware and dragged out the vacuum, and was just bending over to plug it in when the phone rang.

“Sorry to disturb you ma’am, this is Terry... I was at your house a while ago...”

“Yes, I remember.”  I laughed.  “Is there a problem?”

“I think I may have left a tool behind.”

Not a screwdriver, not a wrench, a tool.  Which meant either he just naturally assumed that I wouldn’t know the actual names of individual tools (which is generally true) or....

My god, you’ve got cocks on the mind today.

“I don’t see it,” I answered, keeping my voice very level.  “Could you tell me what it looks like?”

“Well...” there was a pause and then the description tumbled out.  “It’s about eight inches long.  Maybe a shade under.  It’s fairly thick....”  

And I expect it’s pink, hard, and very good for greasing tight, dark holes.  “I’m not seeing it,” I replied innocently.  “But if you want to swing by again, we can look for it together.”

“See you in five.”  He made it in three.

There are three types of cock in this world.  There’s the ones that are so fat you can’t get your mouth round them.  There’s the ones that are so thin you can suck them like a popsicle.  And there’s the ones in the middle which, as Goldilocks would say, are just right.  Terry’s, which I had in my hand almost before he’d closed the front door behind him, was somewhere between “just right” and “too fat,” but it wasn’t the size of the thing that impressed me.  It was the river of pre-cum that was almost dripping from the tip, which had greased his helmet and soaked his briefs.  He looked a little comical, leaning against the dark wood front door, his pants in a bundle round his still-booted feet, and his blue and white spotted briefs dark and damp around his balls.  But I assumed “the position,” as Mark and I called it, and ran an inquiring tongue up from his balls to the tip.

Some women, I know, are a little freaked by pre-cum.  I love it.  I love the way it feels on my tongue, thick and sticky, warm.  I love the way it tastes, and always smile sympathetically at the people who say it doesn’t taste or smell of anything.  Because it does.   It tastes of sex.  It tastes of man.  It tastes of the delights that are just a few moments away, when you engulf the tip of his cock for the first time, your jaw has that moment where it adjusts to his size, and then you start to weave your magic.

Fat cocks, the best you can do is bob your head, letting your lips fuck his shaft.  Thinner ones, you can suck while your tongue does little dances against the flesh on the underside of the shaft.  Like I said, Terry fell somewhere between the two, so my actions   had no choice but to follow suit.  But the more I relaxed, the more I could take, and when I closed my teeth on his shaft, just an inch from the root, he cried out with so much delight that I knew that the end was just moments away.

You know right before a guy cums... the sperm is probably already rushing up his shaft, the first jolts of pleasure are already rocking his world... right then, there’s a moment when his entire body freezes, goes as rigid and stiff as his cock.  His cock itself swells, you feel it growing in your mouth. It’s nature’s way of warning you that your mouth is about to be filled with cum.  It is also the greatest moment on earth.  I love it and, at that precise moment, I loved Terry’s cock as well because a flash that is normally done in mere seconds seemed to last forever.

He was poised on the edge of cumming, I was poised on the edge of a mouthful... and we froze like that.  I didn’t time it, I can’t say he broke records.  Maybe time just slowed down, or even came to a halt.  But we hung on the edge of everything we wanted for so long that when he did finally cum, both of us cried out in relief, Terry loud and open-mouthed, me with a roar that started and ended in my fast-filling throat, and I was swallowing and laughing at the same time, as he stumbled back and his cock plopped free, still spraying cum over my face, for me to try and catch in my smiling, open mouth....

Then I pulled up his trousers, kissed his cock one more time, and looked towards the living room.  “I guess we’d better look for your tool.  Or did it turn up again?”

He laughed.  “I think I’m okay.”  He stooped to kiss me.  “Better get on.  I have five more calls before I finish for the day.”

“Hope they go as well as this one,” I said, and he was off.


The house was tidy, the TV was on.  I’d showered and changed, there was beer in the fridge, and the dining table groaned beneath the finger food and snacks I’d laid out.  Mark was home, as promised, about half an hour early, which gave him a chance to shower and unwind before the place filled up with his buddies.  Oh, and check out the TV as well, delightedly running through every channel, marveling loudly at the clarity and color, wishing we’d invested in HD before, and wondering aloud what porn would look like.  “Disgusting,” I told him. “Every zit, scratch and razor burn lit up by studio lights, little crumbs of knob cheese all taking their bow... yuk.  I’d rather watch the real thing.”  And the look he flashed when I said that brought my nerves all tumbling back into focus.  

This would be the first time I’d seen the guys since our wedding night.  The first time I’d spoken to them since my mouth and pussy were full of their cum.  I wondered if what happened would make a difference in the way we behaved around one another.  I had a feeling that Mark had seen it all.  Did they suspect that as well?  Maybe they’d even talked about it.  Maybe... and for the hundredth time today and the millionth since this evening was first planned, I remembered the only thing that Mark had said that made me think this night might not be a normal one.

“Suck my cock like the filthy little slut you are,” he’d whispered.  “Suck it and swallow my red hot cum.  And if I don’t hear you choking on every drop, then maybe I’ll call the guys over, and we’ll drown you with all the cum we have.”

The guys.  Tommy, Brad and Frank.

Who would be arriving....

Knock knock.


I have always prided myself on being the perfect hostess.  Even as a little girl, when my parents had friends to visit, I loved nothing so much as running back and forth, refreshing drinks and fetching ashtrays, circulating with a plate of snacks to hand around, and tonight I was no different.  I could hear an empty beer can being placed on a carpet from the other room, and I was always ready to replace it with a freshly cracked full one, straight out of the fridge.  

I emptied the ashtrays when they started to fill, I had a constant stream of chips and nachos flowing from plate to mouth, and even when the guys were so locked inside the excitement of the game, I didn’t flag for a moment.  And when it was over, and Mark suggested pizza, I already had a pen and paper, ready to take their orders, and a menu from the take-out joint in case anyone needed some prompting.

But Mark laughed. “Actually, I thought we would make our own,” he said, and my mind started flashing through the contents of the larder.  Pizza dough - yes.  Mozarella - yes.  Sauce - yes.  There was about a dozen choices of toppings that I was sure I could rustle up... and then Mark spoke again, looking into my eyes with a smile, and then barking, “assume the position.”

His head nodded to the space between the TV and the couch where he and Brad were sprawled.  To my right, Frank was in one armchair, to my left, Tommy was in the other.  Mark took up the remote control and dialed up a PPV porno channel; I couldn’t see the screen, but the surround sound left me in no doubt about what it was.

I was dressed, but Mark was alongside me now, unbuttoning my blouse, taking down my hair.  Suddenly I was topless, and his hands were on my knees, pulling them further apart.  His fingers slipped between them and I gasped.  “Good girl,” he whispered; just before the game started, he’d asked me to slip to the bathroom and remove my panties., and I was glad I had.  My pussy started flooding the moment he told me to kneel.  They’d have been soaked through (again!  I suddenly remembered my romp with Terry) already.

I had the distinct impression that they’d played this game before.

Back when I was in college, there’d been rumors that some of the boys (not Mark - he attended a different school in a different town) used to play it as well.  The kneeling girl, the gang of guys... these days, we call it bukake and people pay big money to watch or even participate.  There are world records to be broken and prizes to be won.  Back then it was called pizza, and the girl was the crust.  Who would be covered in cum, as a nice cheesy topping, then decorated with anything else that came to hand... and then invited to lick herself clean.

I’d never played it, I’m not sure I’d ever believed it.  But here it was.  Here I was.

This is going to be fun.

I was expecting the guys to start jerking themselves off.  They didn’t.  Mark was already deep in my mouth, holding my head with gentle hands while his prick slipped in and out of my lips.  Brad to my left wrapped my fist around his meat, Tommy to my right did the same.  I glanced up at Frank, the only one of the three who I couldn’t feel.  His cock was still soft and my heart went out to him... I pushed Mark away for a moment, then raised myself off the ground.  “Come here.”  I tugged off my skirt.

Frank stepped over, lay down.  I knelt again, my dripping cunt over his face and gasped as I felt his mouth close over it.  I love to have my pussy licked, but I especially love it when I’m swimming in juice.  I could hear him swallowing.

Holding Mark at bay, I bent forward, took Frank’s still soft penis in my hand and licked it.  It twitched and I licked it again, then opened my mouth and popped him in.  I once read somewhere, or maybe someone told me, that a lot of time when you see a girl deep throating in a porn vid, she’s actually just sucking on a very soft cock.  It looks the same from the outside, and apparently feels pretty good for the guy.

It did for Frank.  I could feel him unfolding in the depths of my mouth, heating up and growing hard.  Already he was growing too big to hold onto, and I wished we’d set up a mirror someplace, so I could watch that lovely cock as it pulled its thickness out of my jaws.  

Mark was rubbing cock on my face, and I raised my head, leaving Frank’s for a moment, and gave it a loving suckle.  Then turned to the others and sucked them as well.  It was amazing just how different each cock felt, each cock tasted.  Amazing and irresistible.  Frank was sucking my cunt like there was no tomorrow, and I shifted my position slightly, raised my ass to fuck his face back.  

Mark moved.  Brad was in my mouth now, moaning as I slobbered over his fat purple cock tip, and then I choked as he pushed himself in as deep as he could, at the same time as I felt Mark bend down behind me and jam his prick into my pussy, doggy style.

I heard Frank gasp, and wondered what he would do.  Then his tongue was back on my labia, but it wasn’t just me he was licking.  Mark’s prick was slipping in and out of me and, in my mind, I imagined Frank licking that cock just as avidly as he was licking my cunt, maybe even taking my husband’s balls into his mouth... and that was the image that blasted my first orgasm through me.

I don’t even know who I was sucking on when it happened, just that I cried out with glory as the waves blasted through me, and the cock in my mouth responded in kind, blasting its cum in thick waves down my throat, then pulling out to splatter my face and tits with more.

I looked up.  Brad.  Then turned as Tommy let his own spunk fly, wet and sharp against my skin as I reached to pull him into my mouth and slurp the rest out as he emptied his balls.  Mark was still fucking me, harder and harder, slapping my raised ass.  I could feel Frank’s tongue and mouth still working, sucking at me, sucking at Mark.  How amazing did it feel for him, his mouth at the closest quarters to a fuck that felt like it had lasted forever... but not for much longer.  I dipped my head and took Frank in my mouth, feeling the other men’s cum dripping off my face and tits to splash slow and sticky on Frank’s bare skin.  I released his cock for a moment and licked him clean.  Then jammed Frank back into my mouth, a second sense telling me what was about to happen.

Mark came, cried out loud, ramming me as his jizz slammed my guts.  Frank came at the same time, filling my throat so I was stuffed at both ends.  I couldn’t keep my balance, I tumbled and landed on my side beside him, in time to see his hand reach up, grasp Mark’s cock and pull it into his mouth.  

Mark didn’t care, he just fucked his buddy’s face, draining out his last drops of cum.  Frank’s cock was spasming, his cum still flying.  Brad and Tommy were watching in amazement and I just lay there, glorying in the moment, my body dripping four men’s cum, my pussy still pouring, my legs wide open.  I barely even registered the movement beside me as Tommy knelt and put his face between my thighs, sucking at my cum soaked cunt.  But I came again, with my legs wrapped tight around his neck, and when Brad stepped over I grasped his softness and squeezed out a final few drops of cum onto Tommy’s ass from where I licked them off.

We lay, we laughed, we dressed, they left.  And Mark was sitting silent, watching me with a smile.

“You’re such a fucking slut,” he said.

“You’re not much better yourself,” I replied.

Then we both burst out laughing.  “And as for Frank,” I said between gasps, “he’s the biggest fucking slut of us all.”

Mark chuckled.  “He’s not a bad cock sucker, either.  Next time, we should let Brad and Tommy have a go.”

We stood up.  It was time for bed, time for sleep.  But I knew I wouldn’t get much rest.  Yes, I was exhausted; yes, my body ached.  But Mark had said “next time,” which meant there’d be a repeat.  And he’d also noticed that the DVR wasn’t working as it should, and asked me to call the cable guy back.

I’d do it first thing in the morning.

No comments:

Post a Comment