Thruple Saturday Night

Bobby leaned back into his friends' Jon and Trudy's couch, absolutely loving life, the smile of ecstasy on his face.

"Your wife sucks the best cock, Jon," Bobby said, with casual joy, to the fit, sixty-something man sitting close-by on the living room's matching love-seat. A front row seat, and Jon was most attentive to the action happening right before him. Jon's wife, Trudy, still in the jeans and sweater she wore to dinner, knelt at Bobby's feet, his jeans and underwear down at his ankles, and her soft mouth sucking Bobby's thick, proudly erect cock.

"That's why I married her," Jon said, equally casually. "You know, in the six months since we started playing," Jon continued, "watching Trudy suck you off has not lost any of its hotness."

Trudy made noises on Bobby's cock to signal that she agreed.

"Cool," Bobby said, "let's make it a special night. Let's make it a snowball night."

"Mmmm-hmmm," Trudy agreed again, not taking her mouth off of the girthy dick.

"Wait a minute--" Jon said, in mock-protest. A pause for dramatic effect, and then Jon continued: "I think that's a fuckin' awesome idea. Nice one, Bobby!"

And sixty-something Jon held up his hand for a high-five from forty-something Bobby. Bobby, naturally, slapped Jon five and laughed, Jon's wife steadily sucking Bobby's cock without pause the whole time.

After another minute from Trudy's oral, Bobby came slow and hard into her mouth. Trudy kept his penetration shallow, to make it easier to capture this special creamy-salty treat for her husband.

Trudy was expert at all the games that one woman and two men can play together, after all the many games she had learned to play with Bobby and Jon this year already. And so she expertly received the climax of her younger lover; expertly held his salty-sweetness (with a hint of pineapple) in her mouth while her lover's erection slowly subsided after its eruption; expertly lifted off of her knees to stand over her older husband; expertly lowered her still-closed mouth down to her husband's open lips; and expertly French-kissed a mouthful of hot, fresh come into her husband's mouth.

Trudy loved to feel Jon swallowing while her tongue kept pushing its way into his mouth. Trudy loved feeling Jon adapt and react as the salty liquid cascaded out of his wife's mouth, slipping off her tongue and lips, feeding Jon the cum of another man. Trudy felt an electric charge when Jon's tongue touched hers in this illicit kiss between two long-married spouses. The way Jon obeyed and received without questioning made it unambiguously clear to Trudy that he loved her and approved of her and would, without shame, share her pleasures and strive to enhance them.

Bobby loved watching Trudy snowball his load into Jon's mouth. He loved how sweetly she held his cock in her mouth after he came, keeping him warm and not spilling a drop of him. He loved the serious way, the graceful way Trudy rose and fed her husband his special surprise. He loved how eagerly and obediently Jon accepted; he loved to see Jon's joy at sharing these intimacies with his formerly-prudish wife and his new friend. And he loved seeing Trudy's apparent joy at both being able to realize her husband's deepest fantasies, and to play with her husband in a position whereby she was uncritically above and in charge in their marriage, as she knew she deserved to be, no matter Jon's life-long massive earnings and wise investment decisions.

"Tastes like pineapple," Jon said, and Bobby and Trudy both laughed.

Bobby loved the feeling of afterglow around this couple, especially after both had been able to taste and enjoy the physical manifestation of his ecstasy.

"Oh, that reminds me," he said from his ultra-relaxed position, feeling the plushness of the couch cushions behind him and under him, enjoying the cooling air on his softening cock. "Thank's again, Jon, for picking up the check at dinner," Bobby said.

"Don't mention it," Jon said, happily; focused on wetting his palate as if there was some taste in his mouth he was trying to get out--or savor. "I fed you," he said, "then you fed me."

Trudy giggled.

"Well, I think that about does it for me," Jon continued. "You kids have fun, I think I'm going to bed."

"He just wants to go brush his teeth," Trudy joked.

"And gargle!" Jon joked, getting up from his space on the matching loveseat. "If you're going to take my wife to bed," he said casually to Bobby, "please fuck her senseless."

Trudy giggled again and Bobby said "Aye aye, captain," and then Jon walked down the hall to the master bedroom.

Bobby gestured to Trudy, who sat down on his lap, resting herself on one of his naked thighs.

"You've got a great husband," Bobby said to her.

"Yeah, he's alright" Trudy said with a smile.

"I heard that!" came Jon's faux-offended call from down the hall.

"I knew he was still listening," Trudy says. "He can't get enough of me."

"Who could?" Bobby asked.

"Have you yet?" Trudy asked.

"Not even close," Bobby said. "Take off that top. Gimme your phone, owe can take some pictures that you can tease Jon with when he's at work."

"Oh," Trudy said, lapsing back into prudish reflexes. "No, no, no," she said, crossing her arms.

"C'mon, Trudy, I love your chest. When I first met you, you know your body made my brain melt."

"Oh, but you've seen 'em already..."

"Not tonight," Bobby said.

"And no pictures."

"C'mon Trude," Bobby said, "show me how beautiful you are."

"I just blew you."

"C'mon Trudy," Jon called from down the hall, sounding like he had an electric toothbrush in his mouth while he did. "Pop that top off."

Trudy laughed. "I knew he was gonna eavesdrop. I knew he wanted more."

"Let's give him what he wants," Bobby cooed. "Show me, Trudith," using his playful nickname for her.

Trudy bit her bottom lip.

She crossed her arms in front of her, then lifted them and up came her sweater with her arms.

Her bra was black, full-coverage with cups made to "no-show" under t-shirts and sweaters.

Trudy folded her sweater and laid it on the loveseat.

"Bra, too," Bobby said.

Trudy undid the back-clasp, and chastely sheltered her breasts in the bra as long as she could, as she slowly let the straps slide down her shoulders and arms.

She tossed the bra onto the loveseat and tossed her arms up in the air as she did so and Bobby said:

"Oh

My

God!"

like he did the first time he saw her fifty-something chest. What Trudy struggled to appreciate was what immediately pushed all the special buttons in Bobby's brain. Trudy's breasts were full and large, far larger than her skinny, petite frame might seem able to support.

Yet, what truly got Trudy down about her body was the pronounced sag her massively large and delicious breasts, healthy enough to have fed two children decades ago, had long since acquired.

It had taken six months of Bobby's fascination to only begin to plant the idea in Trudy's mind that her body was completely magnificent and every flaw she perceived was actually a strength.

"All breasts sag, especially large breasts," Bobby had once reminded her. "It's what real breasts do and makes them amazing. Intoxicating. And the way yours sag, Trudy," Bobby continued once Trudy had been able to handle hearing her body described in such honest, accurate and loving terms, "with such a lovely teardrop shape, and to such a low but not all the way low, it just enhances how sexy and busty you are. They sag because they are so fuckin' big and luscious! The sag just--I mean..." and then a long pause, as Trudy caught the sight of her nipples hypnotizing her younger lover, usually so articulate and poised, but now transfixed by the body--her body--which his words so caressed and adored.

But when Trudy takes her bra down that Saturday night, after his words of divine adulation, Bobby speaks no more but immediately buries his face into her chest, pulling her close to him, pulling her from his lap onto his chest, where Trudy plays with Bobby's full, dark hair while he feels her large, saggy breasts against his cheeks, tastes her nipples in his mouth, and in between kisses and sucks and touch, his aching, throbbing erection grows again.

Jon listens the entire time, stroking his small penis in-between his fingers, hearing his wife and friend making out to the point where he hears them rising off the living room couch and heading into the guest bedroom--Bobby's bedroom when he visits and stays over.

When Jon hears the heavy door to Bobby's bedroom slam shut, he comes.

Behind that closed door, Trudy has taken off her jeans and her socks and her panties, and she's naked and then she's on her back on the bed, and Bobby's on top of her, between her open and immodestly parted thighs, and he's inside her, and Bobby loves the noises Trudy makes when he slides his cock across the wet and swollen lips of her pussy, once, twice, thrice, and then buries himself all the way to the hilt inside her.

Trudy does not love the sounds she makes--those yips and cries that seem to ask for mercy but truly indicate a love for having received no mercy--but she loves the feeling Bobby gives her when he is hard and big for her and takes her with the most minimum of preambles.

Jon, however, loves the sounds his wife makes, especially when their trusted friend is getting himself balls-deep into her after feeding her a fresh mouthful of cum already on the evening. Thus, Jon, mechanical genius and gadget guru, has made sure to install a discreet digital taping system in Bobby's bedroom. So that even though Jon has now wanked himself off and then, drained and tired from his little orgasm, went immediately to sleep in his and Trudy's large, lonely king-size bed; when he checks the hard drive tomorrow morning, he will be able to enjoy how much his wife and friend enjoyed their second, private, connubial nightcap of their weekly Saturday Thruple Date Night.

The memory and the feeling of snowballing Jon is still fresh for Trudy as she and Bobby copulate together. Trudy likes the word copulating, it feels and looks to her close to connecting, but suggests a writhing, a biological, animal need.

Bobby and Bobby's thick dick help Trudy gain the animal sense of herself that has always eluded her. On her back, Trudy is docile and receptive, taking every inch he gives no matter what it makes her say. Trudy is ignorant of her husband's taping system and thus, has no inhibitions on her self or her spontaneity when she loves with Bobby in this guest room, where her own family members stay on visits to her and Jon.

Sometimes, including this particular Saturday night, Trudy is most uninhibited, and begs Bobby to do such acts and perform such debaucheries with her, such as "fucking my whore cunt," a chant Trudy is inclined to repeat over and over again. "Fuck my whore cunt. Fuck my cunt. Fuck my whore cunt. Fuck your whore. Fuck your married whore. Fuck me. Fuck my whore cunt. Fuck my married cunt! Fuck my whore cunt, Bobby boy!"

Jon finds his wife's filthy monologues to be the most erotic things he has ever heard, and cherishes his secret recordings of her.

That night, Trudy feels strong and powerful after having spit another man's cum into her husband's mouth, after having swirled sweet, creamy saltiness across her tongue and her husband's tongue. She feels pride and place and she knows she wants and needs Bobby to fuck those feelings out of her. She knows she can count on Bobby and his Trudy-stretching-cock to open her to a place where she can focus on how much she enjoys simply being on the receiving end.

The long, thick, relentless, end; the insatiable, inexhaustible and enduring end and shaft that she was receiving, and receiving, and receiving. On her back, then on all fours, then on top being lifted up and down by the gentle-but-controlling hands on her hips. After performing with such confidence before her husband, Trudy now lets Bobby's confidence be more than enough for the both of them.

Bobby fucks his friend's wife for another two hours. Each time he comes, he comes inside Trudy, sucking on one of her large, exquisitely saggy breasts.

When Jon wakes them with breakfast the next morning, Jon finds them having passed out together in the bed, both still naked, the sheets having pulled down in the night so that as morning light sweeps in, Trudy is exposed, her breasts uncovered.

Right before he wakes them up, Jon takes a moment to admire his wife's breasts all for himself.

"Bobby's right," Jon thinks. "My wife does have an amazing rack."