She Found Out

He bent further, eager to take more of that shaft down his throat, to have it all in his mouth again; this time he sucked in, not too hard but hard enough to feel that dick swell against his tongue. He lifted his face up, letting John slide almost out of his mouth, until just the head was between his lips; then he rammed his face back down, falling into a rhythm. He heard the wet, squelching sounds of that cock going in and out of his mouth; he realized those little moans were his own, escaping his throat whenever he got a chance to breathe.

"Christina, you've watched long enough," John said. "Help him out."

She eagerly got off the bed, sinking down to her knees next to Ryan. Ryan let that cock slip free from his lips, and he held it out to her like a peace pipe, like a sacrament. She pressed her lips against it in a reverent kiss, then opened her mouth and swallowed half his length with a hungry passion, her cheeks hollowing as she sucked on it and gazed up into John's eyes. John let out a groan, his fingers tangling in her curly hair. Ryan knelt there, watching his wife sucking cock, transfixed. He'd expected to feel jealous, or angry, or even emasculated; instead he was turned on. He was delighted to share this with her; he could see how much she liked it, too.

Without being told, driven only by desire, Ryan bent down to press his lips and tongue into the wrinkled skin of John's balls, lapping eagerly. The skin felt hot and smoother against his tongue than he'd expected; carefully, gingerly, he sucked one ball into his mouth and ran his tongue around it. He liked this, too; he liked sucking balls; he knew how good it felt, a tongue on his sac, just the right amount of gentle suction. Maybe that's what was so good about it, the fact that he could understand perfectly how much pleasure he was giving with his mouth.

Christina pulled her lips off John's cock with a pop and offered it back to Ryan. He took it eagerly; he'd already missed it, missed its warmth and hardness in his mouth. She followed his example, sucking on John's big balls, and they fell into a rhythm together. Ryan sucked John's cock until his jaw ached, and then they'd switch, never wasting a moment.

Ryan didn't know how long they went on like that, but eventually John stopped them and took a step back. Ryan and Christina were both panting, their faces flushed with exertion and desire.

"What a couple," John said, chuckling and gripping his shaft. "You both love cock. You're two little subs, aren't you? Ryan, lie down on the bed, on your back."

Ryan's heart jumped in his throat. Was it time? He laid down the bed, anxious but excited, his stomach fluttering.

Christina came and stood next to him, bending down to kiss him hungrily, her hair cascading around their faces. Ryan felt a hand on his ankle, tugging on it; he spread his legs, reflexively, his thighs moving over his stomach to open himself up.

"Ohhh, look at you," John said, and Ryan felt a pressure on his ring as the man gripped the buttplug and tugged on it. "What a slut." Ryan groaned as the pressure increased, and then the plug slid free, leaving him gaping and empty.

"I want you both to watch," John said. "I want you to see this." He pulled Ryan down a bit, to the edge of the bed, so that his ass was almost hanging off it. Ryan lifted his head to look down his chest and between his legs. He felt exposed, vulnerable, open ... and like an object of desire.

Christina handed John a bottle of lube and then sat on the edge of the bed, watching. She looked nervous, and she chewed absently on one fingernail, which she never did unless she was completely absorbed in something.

John opened the bottle of lube and squirted a liberal amount into his hand, grunting as he spread it along his shaft and worked it in. With a jump, Ryan realized that he was going to get fucked raw; he almost panicked, but when he looked at Christina she must have understood the question in his eyes. "It's okay," she mouthed. She must have vetted John, somehow -- Ryan didn't care -- he was too excited to feel cock inside him for the first time, and raw sounded even more exciting.

John took a step closer and slapped his slick cock against Ryan's exposed hole. Ryan flinched, his asshole fluttering involuntarily. God, just that momentary contact had felt so good, John's cockhead hot and hard against his hole. Ryan pushed himself a little further down, trying to get closer to it, eager for it.

John laughed and squirted more lube into his hand. Ryan jumped as he felt it against his hole, cold and slick; the man's rough fingers spread it over his ring, then slipped inside him, first one digit and then another. Ryan found himself clenching around them, eager to have something back inside him; he could barely control himself. Then John pulled out his fingers, slapped the underside of his dick against Ryan's hole, and bucked his hips forward and back, so that his whole length slide along Ryan's asshole.

Ryan had to stop himself from whimpering. The sensation of the man's hard cock against him made him so eager, too eager; he was desperate for it, and past the point of caring how it looked, or what Christina would think.

Finally, mercifully, John stopped teasing him and angled his dick down, pushing his cockhead gently into Ryan's asshole. He went slow, but even at that slow pace Ryan grunted with surprise as that spongy head pushed into him and spread him open. It hurt, a little, even after the plug; the plug at least started small and tapered, but John's head was thick and relentless.

Ryan bit his lip and grimaced, trying to relax; he pushed outwards slightly, and after another moment of uncomfortable stretching he felt the crown of John's cock slide into him. He yelped, a hand lifting up reflexively; Christina caught his hand in hers and held it. He glanced at her, and saw that she was staring at John's cock as it eased into him.

"You're tight," John grunted, grabbing Ryan's thighs. He did not thrust inward, yet; he waited, with just the head of his cock inside Ryan, letting his ass accommodate it.

Ryan took a deep breath. He realized he was clenching the muscles in his stomach, and he forced himself to relax, laying his head back against the mattress and closing his eyes for a moment. His hole was beginning to relax, too, the feeling of uncomfortable stretching starting to subside. Gingerly he squeezed around John, and the man groaned in approval.

"That's good," John said. "Keep doing that. Squeeze around it."

Ryan flexed and squeezed around the man's cock, contracting and relaxing. It seemed to work, to ease the discomfort, and it set the fire in his belly alight again; as the discomfort faded, a hunger replaced it, an ache inside him. The next time Ryan squeezed and then relaxed, he felt the sudden pressure again, as John slowly drove his hips forward.

A moan escaped Ryan's lips as he felt John's length slipping through his hole; those veins and ridges that he'd worshipped with his tongue and lips now slid against his sensitive ring. Suddenly it felt so good, his hole being stretched, that hard cock spreading him open; it wasn't like anything he'd had before, not like a lifeless plastic toy. It was hot and pulsed with life and he gave into it, submitted to it, let it fill him.

"That's it, you're taking my whole cock," John said, almost in a whisper. He gently drew his hips back, and Ryan instinctively clenched, tightening himself around John's cock as it withdrew a few inches, then plunged suddenly back into him with an audible slap as their thighs met.

"Christina, I want you to sit on his face, but facing me. Keep watching me fuck your husband's ass."

Ryan had almost forgotten she was there. He was so focused on these new sensations, the sensuality of John's hard, bare cock sliding into him, how his ass seemed to relax and welcome it. Christina stepped out of her leggings and then stood up on the bed, standing over him, her gorgeous ass filling his vision just as John thrust into him again. Her pussy was so wet, and as she lowered herself on top of him he reached up and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer to him, inhaling the scent of her. His nose pressed right into her asshole as he lapped hungrily at her soaked pussy, and he had to tilt his head to the side occasionally just to catch a breath.

Even through all of that, his attention remained focused on his own ass and on the blooming warmth inside him as John started to fuck him in earnest, the slow strokes speeding up, the sound of skin slapping on skin filling the room.

John dropped his hips slightly, changing the angle, and Ryan groaned in surprise and pleasure as the man's big cockhead stroked against just the right spot. It was a strange sensation that sent waves of pleasure shooting down his legs; it was like a pressure, a good pressure, a pressure that was building to something; every stroke hit that same spot, and the harder John fucked him the better it felt. Ryan felt so full, so satisfied; he could lie here forever, getting fucked, making that big dick feel good. In that moment, it was his calling, his passion, his purpose.

Ryan felt a hand gripping his cock, jerking him in time to the long thrusts; it had to be John, since the hand felt bigger and rougher than Christina's. It felt incredible, like he was being worked across the entire length of his sexual being; he was barely aware of his own dick. It just felt like an extension of the part of him that was getting fucked.

He wanted it to last forever, but it couldn't. He groaned into Christina's pussy, and John jerked and thrusted faster, and without warning the wave that had been building crested and crashed, his insides contracted and pulsed and squeezed tight around John's cock, and the greatest orgasm of his life washed over him. John fucked rope after rope of cum out of him, each wave of orgasm deepened and extended by his thick shaft, and Ryan wanted to cum like this forever.

"Oh fuck," John grunted, and even in his post-orgasmic haze all Ryan wanted was to please him. He thrust himself back against John, trying to give all that he could, to take even more. He felt John's cock pulse and jump inside him, and felt Christina's thighs shaking against his hands as she brought herself to climax, and a deep, unexpected satisfaction enveloped him. John moaned and came inside him, his cock throbbing with each wave of release, his thrusts slowing.

Then it was over. The spell was broken. Christina rolled off him, panting and breathless; after a long moment, John pulled back, and his softening cock slid out of Ryan. He felt something hot leaking out of him and reached down between his legs, touching his hole; it was John's cum, still thick as it trickled out of him.

The three of them were silent, for a long moment, Ryan and Christina lying on the bed and John standing with one arm against it as he caught his breath and wiped sweat from his forehead.

"Wow," Christina said, finally, breaking the silence.

"How are you feeling, Ryan?" John asked, bending down to collect his pants.

The truth was that Ryan felt incredible. He was floating; a tension he'd never even known was there had uncoiled itself, driven out of him by the fucking, by the release, by allowing himself this experience without judging it, by sharing it with his wife. For a few moments he'd not been a man, not been wrapped up in all the rigidity and expectation that comes with manhood, not been a mind uneasily connected to a body which it had been trained to view with distrust. No, instead he'd been an animal, a spirit, a body untethered from the mind and free to exist, for just a moment, and to feel.

There was nothing he could say to capture this feeling, this bliss, so he just said: "I feel great," and the three of them laughed, a laugh that was comfortable and awkward at the same time, the laughter of intimacy shared between strangers.

"Well..." John began.

"Why don't you stay for dinner?" Christina sat up from the bed, suddenly energetic.

John glanced at Ryan, as if for permission, and Ryan nodded.

"Alright," the man said. "That would be great, thank you. Can I take a shower, first?"

*

Ryan and John sat at the kitchen table nursing whiskeys while Christina fussed over the stove, cooking something that smelled delicious. Ryan had never hung out with a dude who'd just fucked the Holy Spirit out of him, but he didn't feel ashamed, or even awkward; it felt natural. There was an easy chemistry between them, all three of them, and now that the sexual energy had faded, it felt almost ... normal.

"She's a keeper," John said, while they watched her cook. Ryan had offered to help, but she would have none of it; she'd just kissed him on the lips and told him to relax. "My ex-wife ... well, we never cooked much." Of course, that's not what he'd meant by she's a keeper. He'd glanced at Ryan when he said it, and Ryan saw a flash of envy in his eyes, tinged with a faraway grief. Ryan thought he could understand it -- it wasn't envy for her body but for her spirit, for her willingness to share him, to let him do ... what they'd just done.

"How long were you married?" Christina asked over her shoulder, as the smell of sautéing onions and garlic wafted from the pan.

"Fifteen years," he said, glancing down at the drink in his hands.

"Kids?" Ryan asked.

"Just one, a daughter." He smiled and leaned back in his chair. "For a long time, I was staying just for her, you know? But ... I realized that's what my parents did, just pretended everything was fine for me and my brother's sake, and we felt it. You know? Kids can feel that ... emptiness, that absence of real love. I didn't want her to grow up like that."

"I know exactly what you mean," Christina said, glancing at Ryan. "My parents were the same way. Their generation, I guess: just pretend like everything's fine, when it's not."

"Did she, uh ..." Ryan paused, and immediately felt like he'd stuck his foot in it. "Sorry, nevermind."

"It's okay. Did she know I liked to fuck guys, is that what you're asking? No, she didn't. I never told her." John shrugged. "I knew it wouldn't be good for either of us. Now I'm single, and we're both happier, and I can do what I want without feeling guilty."

"That's good," Christina said, as she stirred the pan. "Do you do stuff like this, uh, often? Like I said, this was our first time..."

"I still don't believe it," he said, laughing. "You two seemed like ... veterans. No, the truth is I don't do it often. You get pickier when you get older."

"How old are you?" Ryan asked.

"Forty-two," he said.

"How long have you ..." Ryan trailed off again, flushing.

"Been bisexual? I mean, all my life, I guess. But I didn't admit to myself until I was, I don't know, twenty-eight or twenty-nine. And I never acted on it until after the divorce, a few years ago." He shrugged. "It's good to finally be honest with myself. What about you guys? When did you decide to, you know..."

"This is all very recent," Christina said, glancing at Ryan again and giving him a little smile, a flash of her teeth.

"I've been curious for a few years," Ryan said, both for John and for Christina. He felt like he could explain himself a little better, this time. "But I've always felt ... wrong, about it. Not like, ashamed, or not that exactly. But like it wasn't real. I've never really been attracted to men, you know..."

John's eyebrow rose. "Are you sure about that?"

Ryan blushed. He could feel himself getting defensive, so he tried to relax, and took a sip of his bourbon. "I mean like. I don't see guys on the street and think about what they look like naked. I never grew up getting crushes on boys, you know? I'm looking at you, and obviously we ..." he coughed. "We just had sex, and it was amazing. But I don't feel any desire to kiss you, or hold you, you know?" He glanced at Christina; she'd paused her cooking to listen, and watched him patiently. "No offense," he added.

"None taken." John shrugged again. "I know lots of guys like you. It's just about the cock. You love cock. Don't try to say you don't, because both of us saw that you do." He winked, and Christina's cheeks flushed. "And there's nothing wrong with that. You think there aren't women out there, straight women, who feel the same way? Who just put up with us and all of our bullshit so they can get some dick?"

Ryan laughed. "I guess I never thought about it that way."

"I'm not trying to lecture you, or anything. 'Sexuality is a spectrum', blah blah, it's a cliché. But it's a cliché because it's true, and it's not just sexuality; it's romantic attraction, too. Personally, I'm much more attracted to men than to women, and if I ever had another relationship, it would be with a man. I've only realized that recently." John glanced at Christina and laughed. "No offense, either. I still love women. I do. And I plan on fucking your brains out at some point, if you're both alright with that."

She blushed even deeper and turned back to the stove.

He went on. "And I have friends who are the opposite -- they're a little attracted to men, but mostly to women, and they just never admitted that they were until a little later in life. My generation, I mean, we were the first ones to really embrace that it's okay to be gay, right, but we never quite got on board with the whole bi thing. Especially not for men. We like things to be black and white, one thing or the other. It's less confusing." He turned to Christina. "What about you? Are you straight?"

"I'd say, like, ninety-five percent," she said, laughing. "I've kissed girls before..."

"Big deal. What straight girl hasn't?" John laughed. "Would you ever go all the way with one?"

"I don't know," she said, as she transferred the cooked veggies to a plate and started heating another pan for the meat. "I'd let a girl eat me out, I guess. But I wouldn't want to ... you know, do it back."

He laughed again. "So you're a pillow princess."

"No one's ever called me that before," she said, a little indignantly, and he put his hands up as if to apologize.

"A joke, a joke. Half the lesbians I know are the same way, anyway." He winked at Ryan. "Look, my point is, you don't have to label it, either of you. What's the point? Just do what makes you feel good, and you're both comfortable with, and don't worry about what it means." He raised his glass in a toast, and Ryan and Christina both picked up their glasses and joined in.

As they sat down to dinner, the conversation moved on to other topics. He was a corporate lawyer, which was hard for Ryan to picture; he liked baseball (Giants) and football (49ers) but not basketball; he preferred to top, but sometimes bottomed, which Ryan learned was called 'vers'; he was a good guy, and easy to talk to, and they all relaxed and felt more comfortable around each other. A few more drinks didn't hurt.

It was getting late. They ended up sprawled on the couch, Ryan and John on either side with Christina between them. She yawned and stretched out, resting her head in Ryan's lap and her feet in John's. Ryan could tell she was getting sleepy, her eyelids getting heavier; a few glasses of wine tended to have that effect on her. He bent down and gave her a kiss.

"John, do you want to stay over?" She mumbled, picking up her head to look at him. "We have a guest room. We'd love to have you."

"You know what, I'll take you up on that," he said, leaning back. "I do have one condition, though."

"What's that?"

"If you fall asleep, do you mind if we have a little fun without you?"

Ryan's face flushed at how forward he was, and at how much he wanted her to say yes. She glanced up at him, smiled, and nodded.