Sharing Z 4.9/5 (59)

Z and I had been married for about a year and had sort of stumbled onto the fact that talking about having other men fuck her while we were making love was a big turn-on for both of us. She had done some flashing for strangers at my request from our very first date, and a little more than flashing on a few occasions—letting someone we didn’t know touch her tits, even allowing them to put their fingers inside her vagina once.

And then we found out it was fun to have her flirt with people we knew, brushing her tits against them, letting them see down her blouse or up her dress, even letting them know, by a look, that we knew they had seen her do it, so that they would know she was doing it on purpose.

We always had great sessions in bed after we had been out with other couples where there was a little friendly flirting going on—it clearly aroused Z to be the center of attention. And she usually was. At 5’6”, 132 pounds and a perfect figure—36B-25-36—and with those exotic brown eyes and sassy short brown hair, I was used to having all eyes on her as we walked into a room—and so was she.

Her flirting was always the playful kind of thing you do among friends, not too obviously serious, but real. I had daydreamed about watching her with another man and found it oddly exciting, so one night while I was fucking her I teased her about a relatively new acquaintance,

Tom, who was a contractor doing some work on an extensive renovation of an old Victorian we had bought. He obviously liked her—lusted after her, really—and had been coming on to her a little more than usual, and she was flirting back.

She surprised me by saying out loud what I was thinking. “I know. I think he’d like to fuck me.” My cock jumped.

I found it instantly hot to think about Tom’s hands on her tits, of him fucking my wife. Z seemed to have liked my mentioning Tom, too, because I could feel her cunt growing wetter as I glided in and out of her. So I followed up by asking, “Did he say that? Would you want to let him fuck you?”

She wiggled off the hook with, “Well, he really wants to. It’s flattering.” She hadn’t said she wanted to, but she hadn’t denied that she did either, and I found myself very aroused by that, my cock stiffening even more.

I was surprised at my own reaction, but I was also nearly ready to explode with the thought of her opening up her legs for Tom. I could feel myself getting ready to cum in her, so I pressed on, asking, “Well, would you want to do it or not?”

“Would you want me to?” She was lifting her hips to meet my thrusts, and she was suddenly even slipperier, obviously liking the fantasy.

I decided to go for it. “Yes, I’d like you to fuck him. Would you do it?”

“I want to,” she gasped, and as she said it I felt her muscles contract in a spasm as she came as hard as she ever had. I was about three strokes behind, pumping a huge load into her. As soon as we had caught our breath and I had rolled off and spooned her, she pulled the plug, “It was just a fantasy, you know.”

“You came pretty hard for it, though.” Z didn’t say anything.

That was it for a couple of weeks, but I couldn’t get it out of my mind. Every time we made love I thought of it but didn’t want to bring it up because I didn’t know what her reaction would be and didn’t want to press her too far, too fast. I really knew now that I wanted to have her take another man inside her, and to watch it happen.

A couple of weeks later we were again out with our usual group, and I made sure to invite Tom, who was still working on our house. Having seen him look at Z as he went about his contracting duties, I was pretty sure he wanted her. At this outing, once again, Tom’s attentions amounted to a little more than the usual casual flirting.

But I noticed that Z was allowing a little more of it, being a little more explicit in her replies and responses, although still relaxed—not obvious enough to arouse much attention from the others, although I noticed the difference—a little more tension, a touch more acceptance, more nervous laughter.

About half way through the evening I caught her looking over at me and then glancing away right after she had been engaged with Tom, talking and laughing with him. She did it again a few minutes later, and this time I thought she looked a little flushed, like she does when she’s ready for sex. A little later Tom asked her to dance—no big thing in this group—and they were gone for three numbers.

I caught glimpses of them on the floor, and noticed there was nothing out of the ordinary—nothing too obvious, but maybe his hands were on her waist a half a second too long and a couple of inches too high so that his wrists grazed the undersides of her breasts on some of the turns. I thought he might have brushed her bottom once or twice, too.

No big deal; we were all friends. But when she got back to the table I saw the unmistakable signs of arousal: slightly reddened cheeks, flushed chest above the top of her blouse, more nervous laughter than usual, and a couple of furtive sidelong glances at me.

But that was it. Nothing more happened. We went home and got into bed. It was very late, later than usual, maybe 2:00 AM, before we turned out the light, and usually she fades after midnight, so I’m used to having her fall asleep without sex, even after being at a club, if we’re out that long, so I just snuggled her. After a minute or two, she rolled on her back and sort of did a little jerk—a shake, a kind of silent pout. I asked her what was wrong and she said, “Aren’t you interested in me tonight?”

“Of course,” I said, and immediately slid down and separated her legs to lick her opening, her favorite beginning. I was shocked at how wet she was, how good her cunt smelled with all her juices running, how slippery her vagina was as I put my fingers up inside her.

She was even more into the licking than usual, and a little noisier about it. I suspected that her heightened state of arousal was due at least in part to the time dancing and flirting with Tom, of course, but instead of jealousy I found myself unbelievably aroused.

I slid up over her on the bed and positioned my cock at the opening of her vagina, rubbing her clitoris with the bulb. She moaned, tossed her head to the side and back, eyes closed, and pulled her legs back by putting her arms inside her knees and holding herself open, waiting to be impaled.

“You want it, don’t you?” I asked as I rubbed the tip of my member on her gaping hole, which was so wet I could feel her juices running down her inner thighs making her slippery all the way to her small dark anus.

“Yes,” she answered breathlessly as she tossed her head again side to side and humped up a little trying to invaginate herself. “Put it in.”

“Not yet,” I insisted. I wanted her to ache for it—and I had an idea. She turned her head sharply again and exhaled hard, bucking her hips up a little as if to protest. I pulled back and she thrashed a little in frustration. I rubbed the entire underside of my shaft from tip to base up along her spread-open labia and along her clitoris.

“Oh, God!” she moaned. It was involuntary. She wanted it in—she was aching for it, more than I’d ever seen her, and I was ready for it too. But I also knew she was hot because of Tom as much as because I was about to slide inside her.

And that made me both a little jealous and horribly aroused; it was a delicious and confusing mixture of emotions. Was she thinking of having her labia parted and her womb filled by Tom’s cock instead of mine?

“You want it in you?” I asked again.


  • mike

    Reply Reply February 7, 2019

    Great, well written story. Sure got me aroused thinking/wishing of a similar thing happening with my wife. So hot!!!

  • Bob

    Reply Reply March 17, 2019

    WOW, you are a fantastic writer. I genuinely felt every word. I usually prefer real stories that are much shorter, however, I absolutely enjoyed the ride. Thank you!

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