She Found Out

"And would you ..." she played with the pasta on her plate with her fork, twisting it around the tines. "Want to go, you know, all the way?"

It was his turn to feel embarrassed. He just nodded.

"I was thinking he'd ... fuck both of us." She looked up at him. "I'd watch him fuck you, you'd watch him fuck me ... or we all do it together, or ... you know, whatever happens. Is that okay?"

"I mean," he said, trying to hide his excitement, "that's only fair, right?" He paused. "I just don't know if I can ... like, talk to them, you know, set it up. It's embarrassing."

"I'll handle all the talking," she said, looking down at the plate again, a little smile twisting at the corner of her lips. "I won't even tell you until the day of, how about that?"

*

A few weeks went by. He started to think that maybe she'd forgotten all about it -- or maybe she'd had no luck on the apps. He was excited for it, and thought about it every time they fucked, or whenever he jerked off when she wasn't home.

One day, while she was out and he was on the couch playing Call of Duty, his phone buzzed. The next time he got killed, he glanced at it before respawning. She'd sent a cryptic text: "look under the sink in the bathroom upstairs."

In no particular rush, he finished the match, said goodbye to his buddies, and went upstairs. Under the sink, he found a plastic bag next to the toilet paper that he didn't remember putting there. Inside it he found a brand-new black buttplug of an impressive size, still in the plastic, and an enema bulb. He'd never actually used one before, but he knew what it was. He texted her back: "when did you get this??"

She responded right away: "like two weeks ago lol. finally time to use it. take a shower, shave your booty, get cleaned up & be ready. be back in an hour!"

His heart raced. He wasn't going to argue with that. He took a hot shower, dealt with the awkwardness of shaving his ass (not for the first time -- he liked to keep things tidy down there), used the enema (not as uncomfortable as he'd feared), and was standing naked in the bedroom considering the buttplug when he heard the door open downstairs.

She practically ran up the stairs, two at a time, laughing when she saw him. Her face was flushed; she was breathing a little heavily. "You seem excited," he said, hoping she'd drop a hint.

Instead, she came up right behind him and shoved him against the bed, her thighs against his, her hand on the back of his neck. "Did you do what I said?"

"Of course."

"Good. Bend over," she said. Her voice was low and thick with desire. He responded instinctively, obeying without a thought; there was something different in her voice. Leaning forward, he propped himself up on his elbows, leaning back at the hips to press his ass against her. She hooked her fingers around his thighs, pulling him back into her and grinding the crotch of her tights against his ass, the stretchy fabric soft against his bare skin. Then she rammed her hips into him, pushing him down into the bed, as if she was fucking him. Her fingernails grazed lightly down his back, exciting the skin, leaving trails of goosebumps in their wake.

"This is what you want, isn't it?" She pressed her lips against the back of his ear, her hair brushing against his shoulder-blades. "You want to be taken like this. Say it."

What had gotten into her? "I want it," he admitted, his face hot as he pressed it into the cool sheets. His cock stiffened from her voice in his ear, from the feeling of her hips pressing into him.

He felt her hair tickling his spine as she moved down his back, her breath hot against his skin as she worked her way down, kissing gently. He looked over his shoulder at her; she'd dropped to her knees, and met his eyes for a moment, a little smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.

She spread his cheeks apart. The cool air from the AC blew over his exposed skin, and he stiffened. After a moment, she brought her face closer, and the coolness was replaced with the warmth of her breath, and then ...

A jolt of pleasure washed over him as her hot, slick tongue found his hole. She'd never done this before; no one had, at least not since one particularly adventurous girlfriend in college. He was shocked at how good it felt as she licked slowly upwards, from the line of flesh at his perineum to the top of his crack. It was incredible; his awareness of everything else faded, until all he could focus on was his hole and her tongue, waves of pleasure radiating out through his body.

"You're moaning like a bitch." She whispered the words into his skin, her breath suddenly cool against the saliva that dripped down his asshole. He hadn't even noticed his cries of pleasure; embarrassed, he bit his lip to keep silent. "It's okay, baby. I love it when you eat my ass, too. It gets me so horny..." She stiffened her tongue, pressing the tip against his hole. He couldn't help but let out another moan as her tongue slipped into him.

For a few long moments she pushed her tongue in and out of his hole, and he was lost in the sensation, his mind completely blank. Then her tongue slipped out of him and she slapped his ass, hard, sending a jolt up his body. He didn't care; he liked it. It felt right. "When you lick my ass," she went on, "it makes me want you in me. To feel the head of your cock pressing into me." Her spit-slicked fingertip brushed against his hole, up and down, pressing lightly.

She spanked him again, pressing harder with her finger. He yelped as her finger opened his hole and then moved into him, the beautiful sensation of her skin sliding into his, through his ring, searching deeper. She bent her fingertip down, towards his taint, and he cried out. She'd found that spot of pleasure -- she'd gotten so good at finding it -- and each flex of her finger pressed against it. He opened more for her, relaxing, bucking his hips back against her; he wanted more of her inside him.

"Your tight hole is gonna make a cock feel so good," she said. The words sent more goosebumps prickling up and down his back. She pulled her finger half-way out of him and started a rhythm, sliding gently in and out, each stroke in punctuated with that little curl of her finger, that jolt of pleasure in his belly. "Squeeze around my finger, baby. Imagine it's a big, hard dick. Using you. Fucking you. Don't you want to make it feel good?"

He squeezed himself around her finger, as hard as he could, imagining someone fucking him, driving their cock deep into his ass, over and over...

She stood up, reaching around him to grab his cock. He was so hard, impossibly hard, aching; she brushed a thick bead of pre-cum from his slit with her thumb. She locked eyes with him as she brought that thumb to his face, pressed it into his lips. "Taste it," she said; he licked his lips, tasting the slippery saltiness. "You like that, don't you?"

Ryan nodded. It felt like he was in a trance. He would have done anything for her, fucked anyone she asked; he'd never been so turned on by her. And he wanted his ass stretched and filled, wanted a cock hitting that spot inside him, over and over.

Her finger slipped out of him. "Kneel on the floor. It's almost time."

His legs shook as he pushed himself up off the bed, dizzy and weak with desire. She pointed at a spot by the door to their room, and he knelt obediently, the rug scratchy against his knees. She'd never been like this! So dominant, so sexy! She bent down to kiss him hungrily, sucking his bottom lip into her mouth, running her tongue across it and then biting down, gently.

She broke the kiss and went to their nightstand, pulling out a bottle of lube. She handed it to him, then grabbed him by the jaw, forcing him to look into her eyes. "Stay right there, and don't touch your dick. Get your hole nice and stretched for me. You're getting fucked tonight."

"Are... do you mean..."

"Shh," she said. "I know this is what you want. And I want to see it." She glanced at her phone, then got up quickly, giving him one last look over her shoulder as she walked to the door; her eyes were burning coals, her face flushed with desire. Then she went downstairs.

Ryan knelt there in shock, his mind racing, turning it over and over in his head. Was it really going to happen? She'd found someone, and it was going to happen tonight?

He shivered. Then he took the bottle of lube and squirted some into his left hand, spreading it across his fingers. If he was going to get fucked, he had to be ready for it. He rubbed his middle finger across his hole, then slipped it in, all the way past the last knuckle. A groan escaped him as he pressed that finger deeper, pushing against that spot inside him, opening himself up. The head of his cock was shining with pre-cum.

The door opened downstairs. Christina greeted someone; he heard a low voice respond, and his heart hammered in his ears. She'd really invited someone. Someone was here. Here to fuck him.

For a moment he panicked, half-standing, ready to bolt; then he forced himself back down to his knees and took a deep breath, trying to relax. He wanted this. She wanted this. He'd wanted it for so long; if she was willing to let him do it, wanted him to do it ... why not try? It was okay. Maybe he wouldn't like it, or she wouldn't like it, and it would never happen again.

Or maybe...

He got up to get the buttplug from the bed. He lubed it up, feeling its softness sliding between his fingers, and then pressed the tip against his hole. Relaxing and pushing out slightly, he gradually worked it inside him, grunting as it stretched him. Finally the flared base rested against his crack, and he sighed, enjoying the feeling of fullness. This plug was a little bigger than the one he was used to, the one he'd gotten "for her".

Footsteps rang out on the stairs. They were talking in a low murmur, and he couldn't make out what they were saying. His breaths quickened. He was almost panting from excitement, confusion, and anxiety all rolled into one ball of emotion; most of all, he was horny. Not the normal, get-your-rocks-off horny; no, it was the deep, radiating internal desire that he only felt when he had something in his ass.

The door opened, and his breath caught in his throat.

Christina stepped in first, her full lips curled in a mischievous smile. She was holding someone's hand. She winked at Ryan, then pulled the stranger into the room.

He was tall and sun-dark, wearing light washed jeans and a simple black v-neck. Ryan looked up into the man's face, flushing with embarrassment as he wondered how he must look, kneeling naked on the floor with his cock standing at attention. The man had handsome features: prominent cheekbones, accentuated by a short salt-and-pepper beard, and dark brown eyes that widened slightly when they saw Ryan.

"Ryan, this is John," Christina said. "He's going to fuck us."

John chuckled awkwardly at her straight-forwardness, running a hand through his hair. "Look at you," he said, glancing Ryan up and down. "You look like you're ready to go. Nice to meet you, by the way."

"I..." Ryan stammered. "She..."

"He's doing what he was told," Christina said, her face reddening. "This is our first time doing something like this, like I told you."

"Yes. Christina tells me you're straight," John said, meeting Ryan's eyes. "You've never hooked up with a guy before?"

"Never," Ryan said, swallowing.

"Well. I love fucking a nice virgin hole; I hope you can take it." John put his hands on his hips, surveying the bedroom, glancing with curiosity at the decorations on the walls -- Christina's mostly, woven hangings or pictures from her travels -- and at the bed. "How do you want to start?"

"That's up to you," Christina said. "Whatever you want to do..."

He locked eyes with Ryan again, grinning. "What about you?" He took a few steps closer and reached down, stroking Ryan's jaw with his fingertips, then cupped his chin and gently lifted his head. "You want to do whatever I want, too?"

Ryan swallowed again; all he could do was nod.

"Why don't you start by taking off my belt. Go on."

Ryan's hands shook as he reached forward, fumbling with John's belt buckle. It looked expensive -- soft, fine leather, and a gold buckle stamped with some logo that he was sure Christina probably recognized. It took a few tries to undo the buckle; he'd never taken off someone else's belt, before, and it was surprisingly difficult. Finally he got it free, slipping the belt out from the belt-loops and setting it down next to him.

Then John took Ryan's hand and placed it against the front of his jeans. Ryan took a sharp breath in when he felt it: that tell-tale bulge, hard and flexing beneath the denim. For a moment he froze, transfixed, unable to go on. Then, slowly, he relaxed and stroked his fingers against it, running them across that length. It felt big; he realized that he liked this feeling, touching a man through his jeans, feeling his hardness.

"You like that?" He asked. Ryan nodded. "Speak up -- I couldn't hear you."

"Yes," Ryan said, flushing. "I like it."

"Good. Take off my pants, then. Christina, come sit down on the bed so you can watch." She obeyed quickly, perching on the edge of the bed and leaning forward slightly. She met Ryan's eyes and bit her lip, nodding. It's okay, her eyes told him. You can do it.

Ryan undid the button on John's jeans and pulled down his fly. When John looked at him expectantly, Ryan started to work his pants down off his hips; he stopped Ryan for a moment, kicking off his shoes, then let him proceed. Ryan was rolling his pants down to his ankles, but all his attention was on the man's underwear, and what lay beneath.

He was wearing tight red boxer-briefs, stretchy and elastic, the same kind that Ryan preferred. His bulge was obvious in them, the outline of a prominent helmet clear against the thin fabric; a small wet spot was spreading from the tip of that outline. Ryan swallowed again.

John stepped out of his pants and then took Ryan by the face again, pulling his head closer until his nose pressed into John's cock. The fabric smelled like fresh laundry, with a hint of cologne; Ryan thought he felt the man pulse and harden against his face.

"Go on," he said. "You know what to do."

Trembling, Ryan curled his fingers around the waistband of John's boxers and rolled them down. For a moment they caught on his cock; then they slipped down and his shaft finally sprung free from its confinement, standing up proudly. Ryan stared at it as he continued to work the man's underwear down his legs. He'd never been this close to another cock; its presence, so close to him, made him feel light-headed and dizzy. He wasn't sure how to tell its size, but it seemed big; bigger than his own, longer and slightly thicker.

He also saw the reason the outline of his cock was so prominent, before: John had a big cock-head, as thick or even thicker than the rest of his shaft, with a trail of pre-cum running down the front. The rest of his cock was long and straight as an arrow, one thick vein bulging out slightly from the side of his shaft. He had big balls, too, already tight in their wrinkled sac, which was slightly darker than his cock; he was shaved smooth everywhere.

Ryan had always wondered how it would feel, if this moment ever really happened. Would he be nervous, or turned off, or even disgusted? But in the moment, now that it had finally come, he felt nothing but raw desire. He wanted to touch it; he wanted to feel it between his lips, every inch of it. His asshole spasmed around the plug inside him, as he imagined John's thick head pushing through his ring.

"Go on," John said. "Touch it."

Ryan reached forward, suddenly eager, wrapping his fingers around the shaft. He was amazed at how warm and hard it felt in his hand, how profoundly strange it was to have his fingers on another cock. He had big hands, but even as he held John's dick in his fist he had room to spare; he could almost get both hands on it at the same time.

He took a moment to explore, feeling it out, brushing his fingertips up and down that shaft, feeling the little veins, the tiny bumps, and the prominent vein on the back-side of John's cock that pulsed with his arousal. Ryan rubbed his thumb against the front of that cock, just below the helmet, and when he touched that sensitive spot by the frenulum John groaned and bucked his hips forward.

Ryan's cock, which had softened earlier, was suddenly hard as a rock again. He wrapped his fingers more tightly around John, jerking him slowly, feeling the way the skin moved along that iron hardness underneath. It was intoxicating.

"Christina," John said, his face a little flushed. "What do you want him to do?"

Ryan tore his eyes off that cock to glance back at his wife. She'd spread her legs and was rubbing the front of her leggings, her pretty toes curling against the shag rug on the floor, red polish vibrant against the white rug. She was as horny as he'd ever seen her, her face flushed a dark red. She licked her lips. "I want him to suck it," she said, quietly.

"Tell him."

"Ryan," she said, a little louder. "Ryan, I want you to suck his cock. Suck his cock for me."

Hearing her say it unlocked something within him. This was it, the moment he'd fantasized about for so long; he licked his lips to wet them and then bent forward, bringing his face closer and closer to that cock, until he could smell the musk of John's skin. Slowly, carefully, he pressed his lips against the tip of John's glans and felt slippery pre-cum rubbing against his bottom lip, felt the heat and spongy softness of his cockhead. Ryan licked his lips again, tasting the pre on them; it tasted like his own.

Desire overtook him. He couldn't wait any longer. With a sudden confidence born of lust, he parted his lips and pressed his face down, letting that big cockhead slip over his lips and through them. It was finally happening, another man's cock in his mouth, heat and lust pulsing between his lips. Ryan ran his tongue over the helmet, swirling it around the edge, probing against the salty slit, desperate to taste and feel everything.

John groaned, and Ryan felt fingers against the back of his head, pulling him further down. Instinct took over, as if it was the most natural thing in the world to have cock in his mouth. His world had narrowed down to just that shaft; all he wanted was to please it, to pleasure it, to feel it jump and spasm and shoot a hot load down his throat. He laid his tongue over his bottom teeth and let John pull his head down, feeling the bumps and ridges of the man's shaft sliding across his tongue. When the head hit the roof of his mouth, Ryan adjusted, opening his jaw wider and angling to try to get all of that thick shaft down his throat. He couldn't do it; he gagged, spluttering, and John pulled free to give him a breath.

Ryan knelt there, panting and staring at that big, beautiful cock, now slick with his spit. He wanted it back in his mouth; it'd felt so warm and good there, between his lips, hard and soft in a strangely sensual way. This was even better than eating pussy, more rewarding in some way, more tactile.

"Christina, your husband's a cocksucker," John said, and Ryan's own cock pulsed at the word; it sent waves of naughty, rippling pleasure through him. "Tell him."

"You're a cocksucker," Christina moaned. Her hand had slipped under her leggings. "Oh, babe. You look so good sucking cock. I can tell how much you love it."

"He does love it," John said, grabbing the back of Ryan's head again.

Ryan didn't need any further encouragement. He took John's cock back into his mouth, taking a moment to suck gently on the head while he rubbed his tongue against it. He was rewarded with a throb and a gush of salty precum, and he slurped it up happily. Why hadn't he done this a long time ago? So many missed opportunities; so many cocks he could have sucked, if he'd only known how good it felt. He suddenly felt jealous of Christina, jealous of all his ex-girlfriends, who'd sucked his cock and swallowed his cum and never told him how good it felt.