The Houseguest

"Anything."

She smiles again.

"Will you take your clothes off?" she says. "While I watch?"

I nod, and start to pull my shirt up. She stops me, touching my hand.

"Hold on," she says.

I watch as she circles the bed-that walk again-and climbs in. She props up a pillow and reclines against the headboard atop the comforter, knees apart.

"Go ahead," she says.

I shuck my clothes, conscious that I should be making it sexy, unsure how. I stumble a little, getting out of my jeans.

Out of the corner of my eye, I watch her idly circling her outer labia with the pads of two fingers. A wet sheen is forming on the bare skin.

I stand up straight before her at the end of the bed, naked and panhandled. She glances meaningfully at the space on the bed between her knees.

"Come on up," she says.

Then, with that smile of hers, she adds, "Please?"

I'm already climbing in.

I crawl onto the soft comforter, making my way into the Y of her legs, my rigid cock wobbling underneath my body.

She smells incredible.

"What now?" I ask.

"That depends," she says, continuing her lazy masturbation, her eyes still on me.

"On what?"

"If you finger me, your mouth is free to ask questions."

Fuck, she has me wound up.

"About what?" I ask.

"You stood outside the door because you wanted to find out what was going on," she says.

She stops masturbating, letting her hand fall to her side.

"Now's your chance," she says.

I don't waste any time. She watches my hand with great curiosity as I slide my middle finger inside her, palm up. She's impossibly soft and slick inside.

She breathes a tuneful, cooing sigh as I stroke the front wall of her vagina with the pad of my finger.

Though I've mostly just been bewildered since we came up here, it occurs to me to be grateful that I've recently trimmed my fingernails.

"Now," she says, putting a foot on my shoulder, "ask."

Without really thinking about it, I ask, "What was he doing to you when you came?"

She smiles. "The second time? We were watching each other masturbate. He was jerking off, and I fired up the old clit sucker."

My eyebrows go up. "The second time."

She nods. A pink hue is rising in her face. Her eyes have fallen shut.

I start fingering her a little harder, sending ripples through her belly and her breasts.

"What about the first time?" I ask.

"He ate... my pussy..." she says. Her sentences are starting to trail at the ends.

"Is he any good?"

"Mmhmm... the best..."

"Did he fuck you?" I ask.

"You mean penis in vagina...?"

"Yeah."

"No, not that night..."

"Do you like to fuck?"

"Yes..."

"Will you fuck me?"

"I-yes-ohhhhhh..."

She locks my wrist between her thighs. Her hips come off the bed and they rock back and forth in time with me, just for a moment, then she locks up completely, like a plank of wood.

Then she lets out a low, guttural grunt and falls back to the bed, taking rapid, shallow breaths, and it's all I can do to follow her wherever she goes until she releases me from her grip.

Eventually, she settles down, and the sweat begins to cool on her warm body. Her face has gone bright red.

I extract my finger. Impulsively, I sniff it, and her fragrance becomes a part of my memory forever.

While she recovers, I climb off the bed and root around in my pants for my wallet. I withdraw the condom, tear off a corner of the wrapper, and roll it on.

It's good to be prepared.

You never know when you'll find yourself alone with someone interesting.

I crawl back onto the bed, resuming my position between her knees. My condomed cock juts out like a dousing rod.

I try not to think of this as my friend's bed, my friend's bedroom, my friend's house.

My friend's wife.

The intrusive thought of Mike immediately below us shakes my confidence.

I ask her, "Do you still want to do this?"

She licks her lips, still a little loopy.

She answers, "Yes."

I crawl on top of her, cradling her soft body in my arms, my cock naturally finding its way to the warm, wet spot between her labia. Through the condom, I feel softness and tropical heat on my dickhead.

I look into her eyes. Some of her earlier impishness has faded, replaced by the haze of recent satisfaction, and the demand for more.

"What are you waiting for?" she says.

She splays her knees, inviting me in, and in I go, until my hip bones touch the inner surfaces of her thighs.

We fuck.

I take it slowly at first, pulling out a little and pushing in, staying gentle, staying deep. She whispers encouragement into my ear, hot breath, alternating between wordless mumbling and obscenities.

I raise myself up, my hands pressing into the mattress to either side of her waist for leverage. I pound her while she nods me along. Her breasts bounce and our bodies make clapping noises.

"Every once in a while, we get high and fuck for hours," she says, a little breathless.

My face does something, which makes her grin. My reaction encourages her to continue.

"He'll tie my wrists together, bend me over, and spank me. Just bam bam bam, almost until I can't feel it anymore... then he waits. And when I'm ready, he starts again."

Unbidden, my head fills with visions of her bending over, her pussy lips and her stupendous ass in my face. I imagine her covered in raised pink handprints.

I imagine Mike giving her those handprints.

God.

If she keeps talking like this, I'm going to soak my whole cock inside this condom.

Her hand slips down between our bodies. She finds the place between our damp, clapping pubises, and manipulates herself while I fuck her.

"He'll tell me what to do..." she says softly, "get on my knees, suck his cock, play with his balls..."

As she speaks, the scenarios play out in my head. They always start with me as her lover.

But, as they drift along, I start to imagine myself in the role of the passive observer. They always morph into a threesome, with Mike and Elena interacting while I look on.

I slow down.

"Can we change positions?" I ask. "I might come if we keep going, and I'm not ready yet."

She nods, and I withdraw.

"Here. Sit where I'm sitting," she says, rolling out of her spot, making way for me.

I sit down in her place and recline with my back against the headboard and my knees up, like she did. My erection points skyward.

She swings a leg over my lap, facing me, squatting above my upright cock.

I watch with avid pleasure as she lowers herself onto my latex-enrobed dick.

She takes it slow, disappearing more and more of me inside her until the weight of her finally settles into my lap.

I'm buried deep. She looks down into my eyes. From slightly above, she feels like she's in charge. I suppose she is.

She leans forward and lies on me. We embrace. Our bellies are pressed together, her tits mashed into my chest. Her ass sits against my raised thighs.

The air around my head is suffused with the smell of her breath and her hair and her pussy. Her face, so red and so close to mine, is a mask of pleasure and focus.

She wriggles a little. It occurs to me that she's angling her pelvis, pressing her clitoris into contact with my pubic bone.

Her eyes are locked with mine, and mine with hers. We breathe in each other's faces.

She begins to rock her hips, little micro movements that keep our bodies tightly together, back and forth, moving just a little either way on my cock.

It isn't much.

Just enough to create a rhythmic friction.

Our gazes stay locked together. My head swims in a fugue state, my body enveloped utterly in the sensation of her as her hips undulate on top of mine.

~

THE HOUSEGUEST, CHAPTER 4

Ken reclines, I settle into his lap, propped up by his raised knees, once again enjoying the feeling of being filled up on the inside. It feels like he's in there right up to my navel.

I embrace him, mashing our sweaty torsos together, and I begin to rock my hips, carefully stroking the hood of my aching clitoris against his pubis.

I look into his ruddy face, armed with the knowledge that fantasizing about Mike and me together gets him off.

This time, I won't wait for him to ask questions.

I put my hands on his chest, holding him down, holding myself up. I invite him to watch my body undulating on top of him. I sigh the words into the air between us.

"Before we started dating, we were fuck buddies. I'd sit on the edge of the kitchen counter and spread myself out in front of him. He'd play doctor."

The look in his eyes, the absolute animal lust as he drinks me in, stirs me up inside.

No doubt, the sight of me is an aid to the fantasies unfolding in his mind, of the intimately private moments with my husband that I've just betrayed for his pleasure.

It's okay.

Being told is getting him off.

Telling him is getting me off.

I choose another.

"We were on vacation once. We had a terrible fight. To make up for it, I ordered him to put his finger in my ass while he fucked me on my hands and knees."

His reply comes out in a half-sigh, half-grunt.

"Was the finger in your ass for him... or for you?"

He's close.

So am I.

"Yes," I say, grinning.

I intensify the pumping rhythm of my hips, our contact broad and flat, long and slow. I'm masturbating myself very effectively on his pubic bone.

Our sweat scents the air. It mingles between our sliding bodies.

Incredibly, he still hasn't come.

But I have to.

I change our rhythm, our angle of contact. Selfishly, I'm concentrating on getting myself off.

"How can I help?" he whispers.

Good man.

"My nipples," I say, a quiver in my voice. "Gently. On my areolas."

He cups my breasts. As big as his palms are, my tits are bigger. I overflow his hands. His thumbs find my large, pale areolas and circle them lightly, a little too lightly, tickling me.

I shudder and giggle. "Harder."

He obeys. He looks grateful. He'd been avoiding my breasts, perhaps accustomed by scores of other lovers to playing it safe with their potential sensitivity. But he clearly likes them.

In my case, he would be right-my nipples are tender enough that an errant touch could send me through the ceiling.

Until they're properly acclimated.

His attentions are spurring on the tingling heat that grows in the base of my body.

I'm going to come.

My strokes get a little shorter, a little more direct. I take slow, measured breaths, staying mindful, staying in this moment.

"Flick the nubs," I think I say, though I can't be sure.

His curious hands slide over my heavy titflesh, raising a shiver in my shoulders. He settles into a rhythm of slow, firm flicking with the pads of his thumbs. It's almost too much, but he's attentive.

He keeps me exactly where I need to be.

The buildup in my core meshes softly with the sympathetic tingling in my tits. Abruptly, my actions not entirely my own, I collapse on top of him, squeezing his wet, hot body tightly to mine.

I grind on him in short, precise movements localized to my hips and thighs.

I'm frozen in his arms, little vibrations radiating out of me, absorbed by his long, hard body as intense sensation rips through me to the tips of my ears and the tips of my toes.

It's his turn to whisper half-mumbled obscenities in my ear. My brain fills with the fog of orgasm. My vaginal muscles squeeze themselves ineffectually upon his unyielding cock.

At some point, all that vigor and all that tension expend themselves, and I fall limply upon him, head full of cottony satisfaction. A big, warm, sweaty mess of a woman.

He doesn't seem to mind.

At some point, I roll off of him, our skin peeling apart, the weak glue of drying sweat. I feel his cock slide heavily out of me.

I give myself a moment to come down, for my mind to come back.

Still a little high and tingly, I crawl over and put my face over his lap. I grip his erection in one hand. He smells like latex and pussy.

I glance at his face. He watches me with fascination, but doesn't say anything.

I put my mouth on the end of him, feeling the padded hardness with my lips and my tongue. I let my mouth fill with spit and start bobbing my head.

I'm becoming more lucid. I feel the unique clarity that only comes after an orgasm. What we're doing starts to sink in.

Mike's friend Ken is in town for a few days. Mike offered to let him stay with us. That's when I met Ken for the first time.

Now Ken is alone in the bedroom with me, the bedroom I share with Mike.

And I just brought myself to orgasm on Ken's cock.

And now I'm sucking him off.

Mike's downstairs, right underneath us. He knows we're up here. He knows what we're doing.

This might have certain implications, going forward.

Ken's well along already. He's been ready for a long time. He doesn't take long.

He gasps, he tenses, and I feel the reservoir tip of the condom inflate itself on my tongue. I keep bobbing, carefully bringing him down.

When I'm sure he's finished, I release his half-limp cock. The condom crinkles wetly as it slides from my lips.

As he sags into the bed, I crawl over to him, take his face in my hands, and kiss him, passionately, sloppily, swapping the aftertaste of latex into his mouth. He doesn't seem to mind.

I've checked my feelings.

I feel good.

~

THE HOUSEGUEST, CHAPTER 5

My body tingles in the aftermath of the orgasm. My cock feels wet; my balls feel squeezed out.

Thens she's in my face, breathing latex. She kisses me, wet and hot and full. I limply reciprocate.

Once I've had some time, she shows me where the condom goes. They have a special trash can for sex things.

She grabs a towel, leads me down to the corridor to the shower-god, that fucking walk of hers-and shows me where all the soaps are. Disappointingly, she leaves me there alone.

I give myself a quick once-over in the shower and towel off. I return to the bedroom to get my clothes.

I find her sitting on the edge of the bed, her chin in her hands. She put her robe back on-open at the front, per her preference. But she hasn't bothered putting anything on underneath.

Somehow, the robe makes her seem more naked.

When I enter, she turns to look at me.

"You okay?" I ask. "Did I do something wrong."

She smiles, shakes her head no.

"This made me feel really good," she says. "I just can't help wondering what it means for him and me."

"All you did was take him up on his big talk," I say, with more conviction than I feel.

She nods, seeming unconvinced herself.

"I wanted to fuck you, Ken," she says. "Ever since we picked you up at the airport. And I needled him into giving us permission at the exact moment I was too impulsive to care if he meant it or not."

I force a shrug. "Well, it doesn't matter. We already did it. How he feels about it is up to him."

Big talk from me.

Just like Mike.

She nods again.

Then she says, "Get dressed. We have to go down sometime."

~

THE HOUSEGUEST, CHAPTER 6

I dry my hands on my pajama bottoms. I'm surprised to find that I have a full, throbbing erection.

I was so wrapped up in my thoughts.

I hear them in the hall, then on the stairs.

They're coming.

They round the corner.

Ken is still in his clothes, but his skin looks soft and damp. He showered.

And Elena is in her robe, open at the front. She's wearing nothing underneath. Her clothes are gone.

I stand frozen in front of the sink, my eyes sweeping over them, my erection plain in the front of my pants. They're looking at me very matter of factly.

It feels different, knowing it's true.

They fucked.

None of us says much about it, as it turns out. There isn't much opportunity.

We each go about the rest of our morning's business, mostly separate. Then Ken departs in a rideshare to run some errands.

It's just Elena and me.

We don't talk about it. We do a poor job of acting like there's nothing to talk about.

~

THE HOUSEGUEST, CODA

That night, Ken comes back. He had dinner and drinks with a roundup of old friends from outside of my circle. The three of us make small talk over a rerun episode of an old quiz show.

Ken, a little tipsy, announces he's going to bed early, then retires to his room.

Elena and I have a late dinner and some red wine.

Then we have sex.

We left the bedroom door open-accidentally, of course, each of us reasoning to ourself that it was the other's mistake.

Truth be told, we're both well aware of it the whole time.

I get up in the middle of the night, pull a pair of shorts on, and head to the bathroom to take a piss.

When I come back to the bedroom, I notice Ken's sock on the knob of our bedroom door.

Elena is getting out of bed. Our big window pours moonlight over her naked body. It makes her look like a goddess.

She doesn't bother getting dressed. She heads for the door as I come in. We cross halfway, and we kiss.

"I think Ken's up," I warn.

She looks at me placidly. "It's nothing he hasn't seen before."

It's the first time either of us has acknowledged it since it happened.

She passes into the hallway, headed for the bathroom. I shuck my shorts and crawl back into bed.

When Elena comes back, we talk.

It's not about our situation.

Instead, she tells me everything, like a play by play, that happened between her and Ken

She spares few details. She pays particular attention to describing his body-the way it looked, the way it smelled, the way it felt. The way it made her feel.

And, mostly, that she felt good.

The thought of guilt only entered her mind once, near the end of it.

"While I was sucking him off," she clarifies.

I nod, hoping that my expression stays neutral, but she deduces my state of mind when she sees my erection.

I ask her if she'd ever have sex with Ken again. Without hesitation, she says yes.

I ask her if she'd ever have sex with anyone else, and she says yes, probably. She describes how today felt to her, as if it were a turning point in her life. How she hungered for the newness.

She isn't sure she can go back.

"I know that might be a problem for us," she says, a little sorrowful. "I can't blame you if... you know."

I think about that for a while.

Then, truthfully, I tell her, "I don't think it's a problem. I can't promise everything will be perfect, but, to be honest, I kind of like this."

"This isn't just more of your mating-in-captivity bullshit?"

"No."

For a time, we just lie there in silence. Then we cuddle, then we neck for a little while, sprawled on top of the covers in the soft nighttime light.

We have sex again.

It's never been this good.

The next morning, at the breakfast table, Elena casually describes-to both Ken and me-how my cum is still halfway up to her brain.

I'm still on board with this new way.

But, I have to admit, this kind of frankness will take some getting used to.

The wedding is beautiful.

At the reception, we all get pretty tipsy, and the three of us take a rideshare back to the house. In the back of the car, lubricated by alcohol, Elena and I tell Ken all about our new philosophy of life.

We include the relevant detail that Elena would gladly fuck him again, should the opportunity arise. I only vaguely remember Ken's reaction, but he seemed enthusiastic.

It's late by the time we get home. We go to our respective beds and crash out.

The next morning, we get to the airport, only to discover that Ken's flight is cancelled.

The next flight isn't until tomorrow.

Elena and I have the day off. We bring Ken back to our place.

To hang out.

We get into the house. The front door closes behind us.

We all three give each other meaningful glances. The silence couldn't be heavier.

Then I tell them I want to watch.

~THE END~

Did you enjoy this story? Give it a favorite, a rating, and a comment to let me know what you think. Thanks for reading!