The Car Dealership

To my surprise, however, my husband shook his head and retorted, "No!! I didn't!!"

That stopped me in my tracks. "Wait, what?"

He repeated himself. "I didn't!!" For the first time since the argument had erupted, my husband lowered his voice and sheepishly added a clarification: "You interrupted me."

I wasn't sure if it was because of his softened tone, or because I'd just learned that my assumption had been wrong, but my attitude had suddenly and strangely changed. I repeated the question in a slightly different way: "Wait - so you never finished?"

My husband shook his head. "No."

Oddly enough, I suddenly felt sorry for him. Out of curiosity, I asked, "Did you make her cum?"

My husband studied me warily for a few moments. Eventually, quietly, he responded: "Yes."

Secretly, I was impressed - perhaps even proud?? - of him. What is wrong with me?!? While I was having that internal debate, my husband posed the same question back to me: "Did you?"

I wasn't sure what he meant. "You mean, did I cum? Or are you asking if I made Tom cum?"

"Either. Both."

Calmly, I provided the truth. "I didn't ... but he did."

Without hesitation, my husband followed up: "Where? How?"

A faint smile crept onto my face. Without much shame, I answered, "Into my mouth."

+++ HUSBAND +++

I'm not exactly sure how it happened, but immediately after my wife's admission, we started ripping each other's clothes off and stumbled toward the bedroom.

Once we were both completely naked, my wife shoved me onto the bed and climbed on top, straddling me. Immediately lining up her pussy with my rapidly-hardening rod, she groaned, "No foreplay - I am SOOO fucking wet right now."

As I watched my cock swiftly disappear into her, I groaned delightedly in full agreement. "Ohh FUCK, you're not kidding ... you are so fucking wet."

+++ WIFE +++

My pussy had been aching so desperately to get fucked, I knew I wasn't going to last long. I closed my eyes and started bouncing up and down vigorously on my husband's pole, aroused even further by the sounds of our bare flesh loudly slapping together.

My husband's voice pierced my concentration. "You're picturing Tom right now, aren't you."

There was no point in lying about it. "Uh-huh," I moaned.

Hearing no objection, I started grinding my pussy against him and breathed out a reciprocated question: "Are you picturing Olivia's tight young body?"

"I am now," grunted my husband.

I could feel my orgasm building, ready to erupt. "Then fuck me like you were fucking Olivia," I demanded breathlessly.

In one swift move, my husband raised his hips, bent his knees, lifted me up off the bed, and started slamming my body upward toward the ceiling.

That strong demonstration was all I needed. While my hands clenched his shoulders in a desperate attempt to hang on, I shrieked with pleasure as the rush of my long-awaited climax flooded my entire body and swirled around his embedded cock.

A few seconds later, as my husband continued to pound me, the powerful spasms deep inside my vagina let me know that he had received my gift and was offering his in return.

+++ HUSBAND +++

The following day, when the two of us walked hand-in-hand back into the dealership, the look of shock on Tom's face was priceless. Perhaps with some skepticism, he cautiously invited us over to his desk to resume discussions about the purchase of a new minivan.

Gradually - and accurately - Tom seemed to sense that we had reached a new marital understanding. Boldly, he let my wife know that she could "come back for servicing at any time," adding that it would be "compliments of the dealership" at his "personal assurance."

I'd always been the one who took care of everything vehicle-related, but my wife suddenly volunteered to take full responsibility to bring the van into the dealership for servicing over the ensuing months.

For being brand-new, that minivan needed a surprisingly high frequency of service.

We never talked about it, but I obviously assumed that most of those visits ended up with Tom's piston inside her - if only because several of my "gotta work late again" excuses consisted of Olivia's fine body being wonderfully wrapped around mine.