The Wife, Myself and The Stranger

"Yes?" she offered up, eventually, though weakly, in response. Her word then got your attention, and you began to rub your little penis more frenetically than before, hoping for release while there was still time, at least according to The Rules.

The "Yes?" from your whore wife was all the acknowledgment The Stranger needed. It seemed to push him over the edge now too.

He had been utterly jackhammering your wife's cunt, and so her "Yes?" came out more of a "Y-Y-Y-e-s-s-s?" due to the distortion from the little shock waves going through from the hammering into her pussy, and then her voice cut off completely. He had placed one hand around her throat as if to grip it or silence her. You kept a close eye on what was happening. Knowing your wife this probably pushed her buttons even more. Her face didn't turn red or anything and she still managed to squeak out the tail end of the "-e-s-s?" even with the stranger's strong hand there. More of a primal psychological thing between a man and the hapless naked female he was fucking like an animal, and so you understood it.

The mighty pistoning frenzy of this heavily muscled man fucking your wife suddenly went out-of-synch, in a weird off-beat rhythm, and then... his hips froze, at the point where his big hard cock would have been pressed upward/inside her at maximum peak and depth.

The stranger leaned back, his face pointed up toward the ceiling of your marital bedroom, and let out a loud masculine roar, and his body convulsed visibly in a series of spasms -- his muscular buttocks visibly clenching, as if one clench per pulse of his conquering seed, up into your wife. He orgasmed and ejaculated, copiously -- finally -- inside her. Inside *your* wife Amanda. Normally a wife anyway, though in that perverted little scenario that afternoon she served as nothing more than a common whore on her back forced to serve any strange men willing to partake of her services, in the tradition of the very oldest profession of them all. A whore also getting inseminated right there as you watched, and without complaint.

Your wife's pussy is now full of a male stranger's cum. In other words: just the way you like it. Just the way she prefers it too.

The Stranger gracefully "dismounted" from your wife, and got out of the bed. Out of your marital bed. He didn't bother saying anything, neither to you or her. His hand had gotten a little wet from your wife's cunt juice and he quickly wiped it off on the bed covers without asking. As he had pulled his cock out your wife started to beg him, "Oh no please don't go! Stay the night! Stay inside me, please?!"

But he had ignored her. The Stranger had meant business and clearly that business was now concluded. The whore got Hers and her cunt had taken His seed. Off to the next adventure, you imagine from his own point of view anyway.

You caught his attention and gave a nod of respect. He understood it and gave a slight nod back in return.

Quickly he put on his underwear, pulled on his pants and redid his belt, then socks and of course shoes.

"Please don't go?" your wife still begged the Stranger. Though she could not see from the hood she could sense from the sounds that he had not left quite yet, that he was still in your bedroom with the two of you.

Knowing her, and the particular tone of her begging now, she might have been just saying these things for her husband's "benefit" at this point. She was one of those submissive women in the Big Print but who had a little cruel streak, almost a dominant side down in the Fine Print of her personality. And it came out at times, especially when the slut got horny or too much In Need down in her too-often-messy panties. She liked to push her husband's buttons, to "test" him, sometimes. Therefore, he would surely be spanking the slut later that night -- probably somewhere down deep in the basement in the sex dungeon they kept there -- beating her bare butt red, her cheating ass, but for now his singular focus was on the idea that his wife was now FULL OF SOME STRANGER'S CUM and all that entailed. But first some manly business of his own to conclude, with your shared guest.

You quietly slipped the Stranger an envelope, your hand placing it in his, quickly. Your wife is still hooded and so she cannot see this act. There is cash in this envelope, of course. Yes, you *did* have this afternoon's shenanigans planned out all along. Well, you had set it up as a potentially fun little adventure scenario to play out that day. You merely laid out a kind of bait. And there was no outcome guaranteed, not with certainty. However, your insatiable and forever wet and horny wife did pounce on it. You *knew* her well enough, after all these years, and therefore it seemed like a wise way for a man to bet.

The Stranger didn't bother to count the contents of his passed envelope then -- out of mutual respect? He simply nodded, and also stayed wordless, and then he turned and picked up his shirt from the back of the tall kitchen chair it had been hung across the whole time, and then he turned and left your home. A minute later you heard a car start and then back out of the driveway and drive off.

The two of you were alone, finally.

Acting fast, as soon as you remembered it anyway, you then pulled out your phone and took a close-up photo of your wife's pussy, now that it was full of the stranger's thick white cum. It is starting to slowly and gradually drool out of her. You capture the moment in time forever: a classic erotic image of shameless depravity and post-coital, satisfied bliss.

Speaking of satisfaction and depravity: a long strand of clearish white cum and precum also hangs down from your penis, reaching almost all the way to the floor. The result of a so-called ruined orgasm. Just the way you like it, ideally.

You pause a moment as if to take it all in and gather your thoughts.

Then you step over closer to your wife, and then lean down, resting both your strong arms around her head, your large hands woven through her raven-black hair on both sides, and you kiss her, strongly, aggressively.

She responds, as if she had been waiting for this -- only this -- all along.

The two of you begin to make-out, heavy, and old skool. A moment of intense passion between two old lovers perhaps re-united, or the first-time and therefore eager fumbling of those who had somehow become teenagers, once again.

You love this woman, and therefore it was hard for you to deny her, not anything, no matter what. Not anything she truly needed anyway, whether it was deserved or even just craved in the moment. And if it turned you on too, frankly? Well, then it just made it even more of a no-brainer.

And thus together the two of you were -- in all reasonable likelihood, of course -- destined to live Happily Ever After.

THE END

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