A rude awakening (closed for Sannablonde)

[Bluebanzai]

Stepping out of the hot shower, I caught sight of myself in the mirror opposite. Reflexively, I straightened, tucked my tummy in, expanded my chest. I inspected myself. Hmmmm. Not too bad, for forty-three.

Physically, the years had been pretty kind, although I liked to think my regular running had helped things along. Fairly lithe, with few excess pounds; a good head of dark hair, blue eyes, and a clear, healthy complexion. Not much I'd change. Other than the height thing, of course. Five feet seven wasn't a great height for a guy, and even if my wife Sanna had told me reassuringly that she didn't care, it kind of bothered me that I had to look up to her whenever she donned heels.

I slumped my shoulders again, and began to towel off. I always felt better after exercise. It was my way of de-stressing, sorting things in my head. And of late, that process had become increasingly important for me. Frankly, right now, life wasn't great.

Superficially, I had everything. The house was fine. Nice cars on the drive. Sound, long-standing relationship. Two white-collar careers between us. And, in the absence of kids (my fault, apparently: something about weak sperm) we had a fairly healthy bank balance too. Only - something was missing. Well, a couple of things.

I picked through the clean clothes I'd left in a pile adjacent, pulling out some clean briefs.

First up, I ruminated, there was the work thing. I'd had a great career once. I could have been a contender, you know?! But then: restructures, rationalisations, and suddenly I found myself working for a second-rate corporate training outfit, which had no knowledge of my abilities. Or interest, apparently. I guess if I'd been braver I could have gone into consulting but... somehow, it never quite happened, and before I knew it I was beached at a vague middle management level, watching brighter, younger things climbing past me on the career ladder. And whereas I'd once felt Sanna's equal - hell, I'd actually met her when I was running her management training course - I was acutely aware that the scales had now shifted, when judged by career achievements.

Possibly, this had exacerbated issue two. The Sex Thing. Or rather, the lack of it. Once, I'd been pretty rampant, if quite traditional: but learning that my equipment was somehow not capable of producing kids, combined with a growing sense of career inadequacy, had led me to retreat to a pretty monastic position. Embarrassingly, I couldn't always perform, and though Sanna was always very reassuring, and I was able to blame tiredness, we both knew that our sex life was pretty much done, now. Barring some seismic shifts, at least.

And... I guess this led me to what was on my mind, right now. I'd thought we were both ok with how things were panning out. Accepting, if not overjoyed; tolerant, if not delighted. That's just marriage, right? Except, last night, she'd said something quite odd, and I wasn't sure how to take it.

We'd been on the couch. School night, bottle of red wine, shoes kicked off, Sanna resting her feet in my lap. TV on, whatever the schedule throws at you. You can picture the scene, I'm sure. It was probably playing out in countless houses across the estate. And then what the schedule threw at us was one of those post-watershed, mildly titillating documentaries. A series of married couples, all keen to expound on how wife swapping and open relationships had revolutionised their happiness. Awkward viewing on one level, particularly when you're aware of your own relationship's shortcomings. On another, a bit arousing, and I couldn't deny that I'd had to shift a little, moving Sanna's heels from my groin in a way that I'm sure she didn't notice. But she was definitely paying close attention to the programme itself. Because as the credits rolled, she looked me right in the eye, and said,

"Well that was interesting, wasn't it?"

'Interesting'. Such an ambiguous word. But, as it rolled out of her lips, it sounded pretty loaded, and the way she said it I'd swear it was about eight syllables long instead of four. Of course, I didn't pick her up on the remark, and shortly afterwards we headed up to bed... teeth brushed, a few pages of reading, and lights out. I pecked her once on the lips, and we rolled to our respective sides of the mattress.

I couldn't help feeling, though, that this conversation might not be over. And honestly, I was inexplicably conflicted about whether I wanted it to be. But sometimes, it's best to let sleeping dogs lie, and I certainly wouldn't be the one to rouse them this time. I couldn't help but feel that our shortcomings in the sex department were more about me than Sanna, now, if analysed closely.

I might be on dangerous ground.

Sighing, I pulled the t-shirt over my head, checked myself again in the mirror, and trudged downstairs for dinner.

 

[SannaBlonde]

I finished off the meeting on Zoom, having given my three closest associates their assignments for the next week. I was at home, which is where I could work from at least 2 days a week, sometimes more. The government agency where I held a position as a senior advisor had become more liberal with that after the pandemic - even when it was over they were positive to having at least senior staff being able to work out of a home office. There were financial reasons to consider too of course, cutting costs of office space for example.

I liked it for the most part, even if meeting people in real life was better so I tried to go to the office at least two days a week.

So it was Friday afternoon. Mark - my husband - would be home in a couple of hours. I’d already prepared dinner for us.

Mark and I hadn’t spent much time together recently. We’d been a couple for 10 years now and we loved each other still, our relationship was for the most part a healthy one. Sure, we could maybe be better at communicating our needs and wants and feelings. In that sense it was pretty classic - me the woman wanting to talk feelings and him receding into himself.

I tried to cut him some slack. Mark had had a difficult time the last couple of years at work, promotions that didn’t materialize, bosses who broke promises, uneven workloads.. yeah it wasn’t easy but I did get annoyed at him sometimes for not talking to me about it and for not being more… assertive. Take what is his. Be more confident.

There was no doubt about who ’wore the trousers’ in our marriage. It’s a cliché expression but still. I did like control and I was more outgoing, I often found myself making the decisions but also complaining at times that he didn’t.

Now, the sex. Sex for us - not just in our relationship but even in our earlier lives - had never been a huge thing. Neither of us were very experienced and vanilla was fine with us. The important thing was the intimacy, the understanding, nice and slow and.. Boring?

Earlier, I hadn’t thought so. But the last year or so I felt it more and more. Bored. Same old. I also noticed that Mark was not always up to it, like his work was affecting him in bed too. I tried to encourage him, tried to be more attentive but it wasn’t working. It actually started to annoy me. My own sexdrive was growing as I turned 40, not uncommon I had heard. I wanted it more and more often and started to think about how sex might be if not so terribly vanilla..

There was no infidelity from either of us, I was certain of it. In another marriage with other people it might have been an issue, something to worry about. But not with Mark. And not with me.

So what does a 40-year old, sexually frustrated wife do?

She looks online. I didn’t have any expectations, just exploring a bit. Maybe feeding a fantasy or two. Maybe having a look round what all the fuss was about with porn that apparently everyone was watching nowadays. I realized quickly I liked it much more than I had expected, even letting it into my masturbation routine which had grown more frequent. Mark and I had stumbled across TV shows, talking about swingers and group sex and that kind of thing. I’m not sure what Mark thought about it (we didn’t speak to each other about it at all), but some of the content stuck with me. What really tipped the scales was something I’d read about threesomes, and that in combination with the porn I was consuming - where I found myself especially enjoying two (or more) men on one woman - pushed further. Deeper.

I made contact with Jamal through a chat. We got ta talking, finding out he lived nearby. Jamal was nice, I found it easy to open myself up and so I did - telling him about the threesome thing, about my marriage, about our sexlife. Jamal was understanding, experienced, assertive and it didn’t take that long for him to suggest it. Meeting us. Drinks at our place. Talk. Feel things out. I was amazed at how easily I was drawn in by him.

We shared pics. Jamal was only 23, black with an absolutely incredible body, big and muscular, making me feel rather inferior! But he told me he loved older blonde women with curves. He was quite the sweet talker.

So. Mark. What to say, how to say it?? Was I going crazy? Did I want to go through with this?
I did know one thing. I had to speak to him about it.

And that’s why this Friday evening I’d made a nice dinner, cleaned, washed up.
I tried to find the right moment for it, but there wasn’t really one so after we finished our desserts and were still sitting opposite eachother at the dining table I went for it. As I began Mark tried to interrupt me but I told him pretty harshly not to. And I spoke.

Spoke about us, about our sexlife, about my fantasies, about watching that TV show together. And then about Jamal.

‘He wants to meet us, darling. And to be totally honest, I want to meet him too… And.. god I know this is going to sound crazy but we planned for tomorrow.. I know that doesn’t give you much time to think but it’s just a drink. Think of it as a friend is coming over…’

 

[Bluebanzai]

You ever have those moments when you're out of body, looking down on yourself? For me, I think, they're a way of coping with stressful situations, like - all this is really happening to someone else. And right now, I was hovering somewhere by the light fitting, looking down at myself, and idly wondering whether I more closely resembled a carp or a haddock.

Not that I've any real familiarity with fish. It's just: that thing they do, when they're gasping for air, mouths opening and closing soundlessly? Yup. The 'me' at the table was doing a pretty fair approximation of it.

I didn't know what I was supposed to say. Hell, I didn't know what I was allowed to say. She'd make it pretty clear that this was happening, and it seemed like I had twenty-four hours to wrap my head around it and do something other than gape. So, for now, I started by closing my mouth. That seemed like a sensible first step. And I thought.

The rational side of me was pretty taken aback. Shit, I thought it was guys who were supposed to go rooting around in seedy online chatrooms? What exactly had she been up to? No, scratch that, I probably knew enough already. She'd been fixing up to meet a potential sex partner. This, according to all rules I'd been taught, was very definitely Not Good.

But, also, I think part of me knew we couldn't go on as we were for ever. I'd been burying the sex issue for too long. Was this going to be the conversation that I looked back on as spelling the end of our marriage? Or - cue the happy couples on yesterday's TV - could it actually turn out well? Whatever the answer, it appeared that my consent was not entirely an issue here.

I'll never actually know if I could have said 'no'. Might we have stepped back from the edge? What I can say is that I sensed the decision had moved out of my hands... and perhaps that was just another shift in the same direction we'd been heading so frequently of late.

Fuck it. What was the worst that could happen?

I looked back into Sanna's big, blue eyes. She was flushed - with nerves? excitement? - and the light caught her wavy blonde hair as she tilted her head to one side, waiting for my answer. Mouth still closed, I nodded at her, dumbly. And as she topped my wine glass up with one hand, I reached out to her other hand and held it.

Later, by the fireside, I tried to make sense of the many questions tumbling around in my brain. Who was this guy, what did he look like? How long had they been chatting? What was his sexual background? Sanna, calmly but pointedly, stonewalled me.

"It's just a drink. Like meeting a friend. You'll find out tomorrow."

She was like one of those politicians who've been given a line to take in interviews, and they trot it out in reponse to any question at all. I gave up, my head still spinning.

But that night, as we switched the reading lights off and rolled to our separate sides of the mattress, two things happened. She reached for my hand again, and squeezed it. And, maybe or maybe not as a result of that particular contact, I found myself becoming gloriously, and unexpectedly, erect. In my head, I was seeing my wife, naked, performing all kinds of sex acts. It was like a switch had been flicked. She'd always been attractive to me: she still had a pretty good figure, with a curvaceous ass and a great pair of legs. I'd always found her attractive. It's just that, for some reason, I think I'd stopped finding her sexual. And tonight, that had definitely changed.

Seeing her chest rising rhythmically, now, I gently disentangled my fingers from hers, pushed back the duvet, and padded towards the en suite. And there, for reasons I'm not entirely sure I could explain, I masturbated myself swiftly and urgently into the sink, spurting hard and long as my climax came, and I gasped for air once more.

I turned the tap on, washing traces of my self pleasure into the drain, rinsing my sticky hands, and splashing my face with cold water. As I tiptoed back to bed, I wasn't quite sure whether Sanna had stirred. I looked at her, in the darkness, but I couldn't entirely make out her face.

I had no idea what tomorrow would bring. Random questions swirled in my mind. What the hell would he be like? Hey, what nibbles should you provide for the man who wants to bed your wife? And - fuck - what would she wear?

Lying next to her, I closed my eyes. By this time tomorrow, I guessed I'd know everything.

 

[SannaBlonde]

As soon as I said it, I got the feeling I'd gone too far. Been mesmerized by Jamal's sweet talking and his bodybuilder body and not taken into account Mark's feelings on the subject.

'I realize I should have given you more time...' i added. I stopped to think what I would have done if Mark had put his foot down - not that he ever did. I would probably have convinced him, talked him into it. Like I always did. It wasn't a character trait I was always very proud of even if it was useful. Like a super power I guess. Use it responsibly...

So Saturday came. I found myself getting more nervous than I had anticipated. Mark ran some errands, I could tell he was probably nervous too, or upset but hiding it...

What to wear? I wasn't the kind of woman who had slutty outfits to pull out of the closet when the occasion arose! Anyway, that wasn't what I wanted to signal. Something that was me but still.. nice. Like I'd made an effort. I chose a light blue, armless dress zipped up at the back, that stretched down half-way down my thighs and fit fairly tightly round my curves. Some cleavage but nothing extraordinary. The dress was pretty tight and supportive at the front so there was no need for a bra (my breasts are a b cup so they can make it pretty well on their own!) A white thong (I had to dig deep in the drawer for the thong, I rarely used them). Black shoes with some heel. Put my hair up in a messier style bun. Some make-up. Not too much.
Yeah. Not bad...

Just 30 minutes to go.
'Oh god.. I'm sorry, honey.. Are we making a mistake..??' It was a silly thing to ask Mark but I couldn't help it. We'd prepared some drinks that were already on the living room table. The doorbell rang!!

'Hi Jamal.. nice to meet you finally.. come in!'
My knees were a little weak and my heart was racing, it was not how I usually reacted in social situations. I looked up at the man, standing 6ft 4' and dressed very... casually. I guess I was expecting a suit, or something.. smart. But here was Jamal in what I could only describe as streetwear. A tanktop revealing his huge arms, and oversized, bright red sweatpants. The sweatpants were obviously expensive and cool, but.. still.. It did clash with how Mark and I were dressed and also accentuated an obvious difference in class and background.

'Hi Sanna.. beautiful.. thanks, great to meet ya girl..' He stepped in, gave me a light hug and grinned. The choice of outfit might have been a surprise but I could tell that Jamal was OK. The same nice man as online. What a relief..

'This is Mark.. my husband...'

 

[Bluebanzai]

Honestly, I was tempted to drift straight up to the ceiling again, and watch this scene play out with a nice bucket of popcorn. But, with a supreme effort, I kept my feet on the ground, and eyed Sanna's partner of choice. Holy crap. He was a monster.

He towered about a foot over me, by the time those pristine white pumped up trainers were added to the equation. Come to think of it, I wasn't even sure that I'd be taller than him if he lay sideways on the ground. It was a bit like a sculptor had ordered a giant rectangular block of marble, and got bored with the chiselling two hours in. ('Sod it, I'll just make him oblong and go for an early lunch.')

As Jamal extended a giant paw towards me, I tensed my hand to shake his, but, inevitably, he was going for a fist bump. How very cool of him. So, he just kind of hit my fingers. And then, he just kind of blanked me. Easily slipping an arm into the small of Sanna's back, he guided her expertly to the sofa, where he spread his ample frame next to hers, effectively pinning her against one side, whilst draping himself over the remainder. It no longer looked like our three seater was going to hold three people - at least, not unless I squeezed into the few inches of cushion remaining between his right thigh and the couch's outer arm. I looked to Sanna for moral support but, already, her attention seemed to be elsewhere.

"So... Jameel, was it?" (Hah. That'd throw him off balance a little). "Can I get you some wine, buddy?"

Buddy??? Where the hell did that come from? This beast was about half my age. Other than the genetic mismatch, and the whole weak sperm issue, he could literally have been my son. But he didn't even break his stare with my wife as he responded. He simply raised a hand in my general direction and, with a deep and accented voice, said,

"Nah. Just get me a beer."

I think I'd been expecting him to want to impress me, to win me over a little. I mean, he needed my agreement for this little scene, no? But he was treating me like some kind of butler. I was about to say something - although it probably wouldn't have been too confrontational, because: huuuuge - when Sanna glanced over at me and cut in,

"You know what? I'll have a beer too, please darling. If that's ok."

"Erm... sure." She'd taken the wind out of my sails, a little. "I'll... be back in just a minute, then."

Leaving the two of them to make their introductions, I left the lounge, and headed for the kitchen. Actually: introductions? A nasty thought struck me. This guy probably knew more about my wife's fantasies than I did. Was I the outsider, here? What had they already shared, in their online chatrooms?

Opening the fridge, I spied a pot of queen olives. Hmmm. Sanna would appreciate those. Tick for me. I pulled them out, but there was no beer to be seen. Fine. I knew we had some in the garage. I walked through the connecting door.

I wasn't sure about this, now, I mused. It was a good job that Sanna had only intended this to be a first meeting, for us all to check each other out. I mean, 24 hours ago - and I'm not going to lie - part of me had found this situation to be sexually interesting. Exciting, even. But this Jamal guy? No, no. Too much. He wasn't right for her, for us. I'd get him his beer, and then we'd wrap things up fairly quickly with a promise to think things through. From there, we'd have an easy escape route.

I opened the spare fridge. Hell, where were the damned bottles? They must be by the back wall. Why couldn't he just have had a glass of wine? Sighing, I pulled a couple of crates aside, and moved the painting stuff I'd been using last month. Shit, there it was, right at the back. I cleared a path through, and grabbed a couple of bottles, pausing to put two more in the fridge, just in case. I hoped we wouldn't use them, but... worst case scenario, two would definitely be enough. And then, passing through the kitchen, I grabbed a chiller for the warmish cans, and a couple of glasses. Oh, and those olives. Bonus points for me.

Damn. I glanced at my watch. I'd been a good ten minutes, now. Still, at least it had been time I hadn't had to spend with Jamoool, or whatever he was calling himself. Smiling inwardly at my own witticism, I pushed open the lounge door.

"Here you go, guys!"
.

 

[SannaBlonde]

After we’d spoken for maybe 20 minutes, we were enjoying the beers Mark had fetched and I relaxed some more sensing that Jamal was not some joker or weirdo, he was good to talk to. Jamal and I were sitting on the couch, Mark opposite in an armchair. Jamal spoke, seemingly preparing for a change of direction.

’Ok so guys.. here’s the deal. I’ve done this before a few times and so I’ve worked out a strategy to save us all some time, ok?’ Jamal raised his arms and showed his palms in a gesture of ’I know what I am doing so listen’.

’We could sit here all night, drink beers yeah..? But we all know why I’m even here. I mean, look at us haha!’ I giggled as he clearly made fun of how different we were dress-wise. Mark and I exchanged a glance, I was trying to guess by his face what he was feeling, if he was ok…

’So here’s my plan. Sanna, sweetie.. we kiss. Ok? One kiss. And then there’ll be three outcomes as I see it:

1. We both feel directly that there ain’t no connection. Just no feel, ok? I know that’s the kinda thing you feel just right away.. In that case, we drink up, say our goodbyes and I let myself out, no problem.
2. Ok so then there is some connection.. a little feel, you get me? Haha.. in this scenario, I stay for a while.. maybe we kiss again later.. maybe no.. maybe I come see you another time.. who knows. Middle ground.. thinking time.. yeah?

3. Ok so there’s fire! We both just know it.. right? So we kiss again! Haha! And then we just play it as it comes.. and Mark.. in outcome three here’s your role.. just stay calm ok? And then I’ll set you up to join us aiight..?

What do you guys think? Give it a go? Nothing to lose right? Trust me, it’s the best way to go…’

Mark and I looked at each other. To me, it sounded ok. Yeah maybe moving things along faster than I was expecting but I was pretty sure it would be outcome two.. maybe one even.. It was actually thrilling, like a game of chance or something.

I laughed nervously as Jamal turned to face me, smiling.
’Haha oh god.. ok.. well.. let’s…’ But he interrupted by leaning in and planting a kiss on my lips. He stopped, looked me in the eyes, and without waiting kissed me again. And a third time. His big lips framing mine, and the last kiss softly sucking in my lower lip before letting it slip out as he pulled back. I had NEVER been kissed like that before!

I felt my face all hot, and a stirring feeling in my stomach. My heart pumped harder. We looked at each other again. I was losing something…

’Not bad yeah?’ Jamal grinned. I giggled, feeling stupid for a moment hearing my own childish laugh like a silly teenager.

’No.. not bad at all..’ I whispered. I glanced over at Mark, it was hard to read but.. he looked a little pale. I was about to ask how he was, when Jamal leaned in again, kissing me and this time is right hand on my right thigh, on the inside, caressing, as his tongue slipped inside me and I opened my mouth wider, wider still, as we kissed harder.. deeper.. oh god what the hell was happening. His strength and determination made me fall backwards against the back of the sofa, still kissing, still stroking in the inside of my thigh and now as I lost more control over myself my legs fell apart slightly and he moved his hand up and down the insides of both my thighs. I was so turned on by it. By the whole thing.

He stopped suddenly, pulled me up and found the zipper on the back of my dress fast, pulling it down. I was afraid to look at Mark, maybe ashamed of how aroused I was, how easily this was happening. Jamal was not waiting for anything or anybody. He slid my dress of my shoulders, exposing my tits. Just like that.

‘Oh yeah.. look at those baby…’ Jamal stared at them, squeezed them with both hands and then leaned down and began sucking my nipples and making loud slurping sounds.

‘Oh! Oh god.. haha!

I couldn’t help it, gasping I looked down to see his mouth transform my nipples into hard, swollen knobs. Putting my hands on his black head I steadied myself and looked over at my husband.

‘Are you ok over there, Mark?’ I asked as my hands moved over Jamals neck, shoulders, arms..

 

[Bluebanzai]

I listened to that little speech with a mix of bemusement and sheer cold-fingered dread. The whole 'three options' thing, I mean. Wasn't this supposed to be drinks, just to get to know each other? To see if we all felt comfortable? Hell, even perhaps to set a few ground rules, given that only 24 hours ago she and I had had a perfectly normal, sexless marriage?

And then, I watched him just fall upon her. I couldn't intervene, could I? Listen, first of all, the guy was twice my size, and half my age. Second, I'd actually welcomed him into the house... I'd even fetched his damn beer. Third, I just had to look at Sanna to know that - jesus christ - she was loving this. His hands were all over her, roaming up her thighs, as she opened her legs for him and fell back on the sofa.

And fourth. Fourth. I was hard. Rock hard.

Watching them both from the armchair, on the other side of the coffee table, I could see Sanna melting. Writhing. She hadn't looked at me like that in years, hadn't responded to my touch like that... well, ever. Suddenly, she seemed hungry. Animal, almost.

She looked over at me once, sure, but she didn't seek permission or anything. And even then he instantly reclaimed her, pulling her eyes back onto him as he pushed his tongue into her mouth. It was like I was watching her leaving me, live time. This wasn't what a threesome was supposed to be, was it?

And then... watching that dress come down, his mouth on her tits as she pushed up towards him, back arched, her hands pulling his head in closer.

You know, I don't think we'd ever even christened that sofa, she and I? The bedroom had been the place for us. But here she was, half naked, her white skin contrasting sharply with his glossy black frame, as he pawed her and took her to places she clearly wanted to go.

My brain wanted me to stop this. I don't know, to shout at them, to call the police or something if I had to, just to do whatever it took to get him out. But, inexplicably, my body wasn't on the same page at all. In fact, in the same way that thoughts of this had make me jerk off last night, I could feel myself becoming hugely aroused. Watching my woman ("my woman"?) being desired. Being taken, objectified, treated as a quick fuck. We hadn't done that for years. I mean, it's not what husbands do, is it? And her: watching her so passionate, so eager. Her nipples hardening, her throat red with lust, her curves melting into his body like recumbent ballet.

And just as I was thinking that she'd forgotten me totally, forgotten that this was supposed to be a three way thing, Sanna looked over at me and threw me a lifeline.

"Are you ok over there, Mark?" she said.

I actually think this was the tickbox bit, so she could claim that she'd got my permission, afterwards. Because if I'd said no, I really don't think she'd have stopped. But, regardless, her recognition of my presence in the room allowed me to assert my own place in all of this.

I stood up, my trousers tenting uncomfortably in front of me. I walked towards her, at the far end of the sofa, as she lay under his heavy frame, waiting for her to reach out for me, to change position somehow, to bring me into the scene. But she seemed to lose herself in his embrace again in that short time, her attention again solely on the sensations he was awakening within her. And so, I found myself standing a few inches away, jiggling from one foot to another, trying to get her to notice me again, as I watched this stacked young guy mauling my wife with his powerful hands, in full-on dolby surround HD.

"Hey..." I said, trying to sound cool. And I bent forward, awkwardly, to put a sweating hand on her shoulder.

 

[SannaBlonde]

Hey look here, someone’s ready for you!’
Both Jamal and I looked at where Mark’s erection was obvious..
‘She’ll be ready for you soon, Marky Mark.. Now: Stand up, beautiful…’

I did and Jamal grabbed my dress, pulling it down. I stood there now in only my white thong facing Mark. I put my hands on his shoulders, gave him a kiss and was about to say something, maybe something to try to explain all this but… how could I?

‘Now let’s take a good look at my favourite part…’ Jamal chuckled.

I looked back over my shoulder as he squeezed and jiggled my ass cheeks like they were two toys.

‘Oh fuck.. you are a lucky man, Marky boy.. look at this ass!!’
Jamal slapped me, once on each cheek. Not hard but.. Mark never did that to me. It was of course completely absurd that this was happening, that a woman like me was..

‘Oh! Haha!’ I yelped surprised, and giggled.
‘You like that don’t you, naughty girl..!’

He slapped my ass once more. Harder this time. I did. I couldn’t deny it. And now things picked up even more. The sheer mass and power of Jamal was just too much. He stood up, pulled off his top and beckoned to Mark to come stand next to him. Then he looked at me.

‘On your knees, right here. Let me see you suck hubby’s cock..’

I was astounded. But I did what he told me, fell down on my knees and looked up at the two in front of me. I smiled faintly at Mark. Began undoing his trousers, pulling both them and his underwear down. Simultaneously, Jamal pulled his down too, and upon seeing the size of the black monster next to me, dangling there all heavy and thick as Jamal slowly stroked it, I just could not stop myself from looking at it and then up at him. My face must have betrayed me completely.

I began stroking Mark. Jamal took my other hand and placed it round his fat shaft., but on the top of it so my palm was downwards. The difference in my hands was incredible. I was barely able to wrap my hand round it. Again I looked at him and then at his cock and balls in honest-to-god awe, while more absentmindedly stroking Mark who was rock hard at this point. Without letting go of Jamal, I shifted on my knees and opened my mouth to suck on Mark, which I did in a way I never usually did - hard, hungrily, deep.

 

[Bluebanzai]

I literally sprang at her. Well, not me, but my cock. All those little stress problems gone in a flash, as she pulled my trousers down to my ankles and released my throbbing manhood into her little fist. Fuck, but this felt good. I was looking forward to tag teaming her now. Two guys together, taking her to the edge.

I could definitely see the attraction here for her now, and just as it brought out the animal in her, it was having a pretty damn great effect on me too. Ooohhh yes. Just stroke me like that, honey. I watched her varnished nails moving slowly along my shaft, and felt momentarily on top of the Whole Fucking World. Yesssss....

Only, as I got used to the gentle pressure of her hand and began to focus elsewhere too, I caught sight of Jamal's cock, which by now was also unleashed.

I'd never seen anything remotely like it.

It was ... how do I find the words? Vast? Gargantuan? Mahoosive? The damn thing must have had its own gravitational field. I imagine this was why he was so freaking huge. Like, his cock was actually pulling new man particles through the atmosphere towards him, adding extra layers every day. Without that cock, he'd probably have been a dwarf. A thought which didn't seem to occur to Sanna, whose eyes - now I looked at her - were fixed solely on the black schlong bursting out of her other fist, as she struggled to wrap her grip around it.

At this point, of course, a lesser guy might have had a crisis of confidence. I confess, I might have got there myself, given time. But then I saw Jamal nod towards me, as Sanna glanced up at him adoringly. Bless him. He'd already told her to blow me. Maybe he wasn't such a bad guy after all. And... hey, I had moves. It's not just what you've got, it's what you do with it, right?

Sanna leaned towards me, opening her lips and taking me inside. I nodded appreciatively. It felt good to be the centre of attention. I could see her subtly lipsticked mouth wrapped around my head as she grasped the base of my shaft between those manicured fingers, squeezing tight. I shuffled sideways a little, closer to her torso, knocking against the unyielding mass of Jamal's thigh as I did so. Mmmmm, yes, baby...

Oh, fuck. She was really going for this. She never sucked like this: hungry, hard, deeeeep. And she was squeezing so tightly on me as I watched her other hand pumping Jamal's cock, its huge helmet vanishing between her fingers momentarily, before reappearing even larger with each stroke.

It felt like I was right at the back of her mouth, now. I could feel her tongue swirling, shifting, sucking around me, her fingers tightening, her lips stroking; and the vibration of her soft moaning was like someone had added a small bit impactive little vibrator into the mix. At least, so I imagine.

I closed my eyes. I tried really hard to think of the football, of the bins, of next week's work deadline. Even, god help me, of the huge hairy arsed dude standing next to me.

"Honey..?!" I whimpered, urgently. "BABE!" Oh, fuck... fuck...

And with the sound of a deflating balloon, I moaned, long and low, and unloaded into her mouth. Like I'd never done before. Huge, spraying rivers of the stuff. Pumping, clenching, squeezing, as my eyes rolled up to the ceiling and my knees buckled, my underpants finally falling to my ankles, where they rested above my smart casual shoes, the ones I'd worn especially for the evening.

It was a hell of an orgasm. And in your average porn movie, I'd argue that's really worth something, right? The money shot. Copious. Convincing. Cataclysmic, even. Except, this hadn't been so much a movie, as a trailer. And I wasn't entirely sure that the cinema-going audience would be convinced by my performance.

I looked down at Sanna, whose face was difficult to read as she struggled with a mouthful of cum. I pulled slowly out from between her lips. And as I watched my wilting cock drip its final drops down onto my inner thigh, I flushed red, and hoped fervently that the remaining cinema-goers wouldn't be demanding a refund.

 

[SannaBlonde]

’Oh.. haha.. that was fast, man! Does he always cum that fast?? With my mouth full of Mark’s cum, I heard Jamal, who continued by saying:

’Now swallow, and then come here…’ I did. I exchanged a glance with Mark, I wasn’t sure what was going on and I was a little surprised by him cumming so fast and honestly a little disappointed. But I had other things I had to focus on.

Jamal took my hands and placed them on his massive thighs before putting his own hands on my head. He steered his cock towards my open mouth. It was of course completely impossible to get more than a third of it in. At first. My mouth was wide open and my lips were tightly stretched round his shaft as he began moving. Slowly fucking my mouth. I didn’t have to do anything besides take him. He undid the bun in my hair, letting it fall, before grabbing hold. Slowly, more of him was inside me, he was nudging the back of my mouth, pushing, prodding, over and over.. He took two steps back but kept me in the same place, so my body was leaning forward more - this made my neck and throat straighter and I knew now what he was going for. I could not believe it!

He kept at it, a couple of times letting me up to breathe and pant through my mouth but otherwise I was only able to nose breathe.. Goo was running out of me.. and then.. like some kind of magic.. his cock slid down my throat!
’Yeah that’s it baby! Just like that! Look buddy.. I’m fucking your wife’s throat.. haha!’
I was so dazed, that when he pulled out I just sat there so confused by everything.

’I wanna fuck your pussy, baby…’
Jamal’s voice was husky, demanding and upon hearing those words it was like I flooded down there. He pulled me from the floor and then sat himself down on the sofa, waving me in to mount him.
’Come here princess… sit yourself down…’
I placed my knees on either side of him, in this moment not even thinking about Mark who was behind us.
’Now you take a good look, see how your wife rides a real man..’

I know it was wrong and it astounded me that I reacted that way to this taunting of Mark, but I felt a surge of sexual energy run through me. I put my hands on either side of Jamal’s head on the sofa and sank my hips down over him as he directed his cock and I could feel the bulging cockhead start to open me. Fuck, it was big.. I slid down a bit more and just gasped loudly at the sensation of it.
’Oh.. my.. god…’

Jamal had his hands on my hips.. giving me time to acclimatize to this.. Half way down (I was guessing, it was hard to say), I pushed up.. slid up.. and then down.. looking down at Jamal and now boeginning to get a rhythm going and all the while letting more and more of him slide inside. Despite him being so big and me so not used to that, I was so damn wet it wasn’t as difficult as I was anticipating. I rode him, grinding my hips back and forth and now loudly moaning as I did.

The orgasm came as total surprise. I had NEVER orgasmed by intercourse before, but now I did and the experience was hard to describe - every muscle in me contracted, even in my face, as I writhed and shook and yelled.

’Oh Jesus Christ!! I’m coming!! Oh fuck!!!’
But Jamal just kept me in place, spanking my ass as I came, and then took hold of my hips to keep me riding at a ever increasing pace…

 

[Bluebanzai]

Normally, that would have been a birthday kind of experience. Sanna unceremoniously pulling my trousers down, taking my dick in her hand, and giving me hot and hungry blowjob, the like of which I'd probably never had from her.

I'd cum, hugely. And she'd swallowed it all, asking nothing in return.

This should have been the good bit. The afterglow. The moment when I snuggled into her, experiencing the smell of my cock still on her breath as I got closer - although, I'd probably need her to brush her teeth before we kissed. Warm, sleepy feelings, empty balls, post-orgasmic highs. You know the drill. Probably not that rare for some people, but fairly uncommon in this house: and still, whatever, it was hot as hell.

Only, this time, things were a bit more complicated, weren't they? Because there was a fuck off great black guy with his cock inside my wife now, inches from my face. And, I guess if he'd had a little grace, we could have carried things off as a team.

"Nice one, bro. Let me take a turn now. Looks like you filled her right up. Good job." Or something like that. Maybe a high five as he took over.

But instead, he actually laughed at me. And then, not to put too fine a point on it, he kind of rubbed my nose in it. As if it wasn't already enough that he was so much bigger, down there, he had to gloat about what he was doing to her with his tool. And christ, was he ever giving her a workout.

I'd never seen anyone take a cock in their throat before. I was pretty confident Sanna had never done it, either. But from the look of things, she was definitely enjoying it. I made a mental note to see if she might try this for me too, sometime soon. Maybe learning new stuff could be a good part of this whole experience? Perhaps I should just swallow my pride for a minute - while she, erm, swallowed his cock - and take the long term view.

Right now, though, I wasn't too sure what to do. I sort of left the field of play, retreating behind the couch with my trousers still down. I stepped out of them; maybe I'd be subbed back in in a minute. Shoes and socks off, too. I started fingering my flaccid dick but it seemed to have had enough, now, spent entirely from its earlier efforts. Just - give it time, I told myself. And I was kind of thinking that Sanna might do something to get me hard again. But she didn't even look at me, now.

And then, this Jabool guy (yeah, whatever) started to make the whole situation even more uncomfortable. "Look at me, fucking your wife's throat," and, "Watch how she gets fucked by a real man," he gloated. And when he said that last bit, honestly, I stepped forward and held a hand up to stop things. I mean, this had just been for drinks, and a meeting, and now he expected to actually have full on sex with my wife??

"Hey..." I said, only the words kind of died in my throat. Jamal had his back to me anyway, and Sanna had this glazed, dazed expression, like a bitch on heat, intent on mounting him as fast as she could. I'd never seen her like that before. I'm pretty confident she didn't hear me, and even if she had, I don't think she would have stopped. So, I just sort of stepped back again, and resumed playing with myself, just in case there was a round two to come.

And actually, watching them was a pretty intense experience. In one way, obviously, it was hugely uncomfortable. But in another, it was quite hot, watching her perform for me. That's what I told myself. She was just putting on a show, for me. And then, she really excelled herself. I could see her doing that huge orgasm thing, the one she used to do with me when we were first together, only it looked to me like she was probably faking it. He probably couldn't tell, but being her husband, I was pretty confident. Small signs, giveaways. But you know what? It worked anyway. Nice one, Sanna. I could feel life coming back, downstairs, and my cock started to rise again as I stroked it with increasing urgency. And as she finished faking her orgasm, I stepped out from behind the sofa and walked up to the side of her. Him, sat there, Sanna bouncing on his lap.

She didn't notice me at first, because her eyes were closed. But I knew she'd get to me. So I cleared my throat, loudly, and waited, cock in hand, proudly at attention.

 

[SannaBlonde]

'Ok get off me.. I want you on your back..'

Mark was standing beside me, and I was quite impressed he had an erection again actually. I was all hot, out of breath, shook up and almost in a state of derilium because of what I had just experienced. I looked down at Jamals glistening black body and his cock that I had just been on top of for the ride of my life.. He didn't seem to anywhere near coming..

'Hey.. I'm sorry darling... hope you're ok..?' I kissed Mark, took his cock in my hand and gave it a couple of quick pumps before Jamal steered me down onto the sofa.

He put me in a position where my head rested where the sofa seat cushion meets the back, bending my neck slightly forward. My ass and lower back was hanging out over the edge and Jamal grabbed my legs and pulled them back, so I almost had my knees by my ears. Without hesitating, he stood between my legs and placed his fists into the seat on either side of me and slid easily inside me again. I was practically folded over and his cock was hammering me from above. And jesus christ did he fuck hard now! The smacking sound echoed in the room, I could feel his balls bounce against my ass and could only imagine how this looked from behind - my big white ass totally spread and this black machine pounding hard and fast, over and over...

 

[Bluebanzai]

Fuck. It looked like she didn't want me at all, now. When she took my cock in her hand, briefly, I half hoped that she was going to at least give me a handjob, but her words ("sorry, darling...") kind of let me know that I wasn't going to be getting any more action. Was this how threesomes worked? Did I have to wait for him to cum next, before it was my turn again?

As the huge, muscular mass of Jamal manipulated my wife back onto the sofa, I stepped to the side a little so as not to be in the way. I could tell that the way Sanna was now , it wasn't really a position where you could introduce a third person, at least not right now, so I guess it was ok to wait out for a while.

Obviously, this felt awkward for me. Embarrassing, even. I figured, maybe, these emotions were just down to my inexperience at knowing how this kind of situation was expected to play out? Like, beginner's nerves? And although a large part of me felt pretty uncomfortable about the way the evening was now going, the bit of me below the waist was still undeniably excited by what I was seeing.

Jamal was using her like a plaything, now. He just pulled her legs up, folded them up with his huge hands, and locked them in position with those dark, muscular arms, as he pounded her. I could see that Sanna was breathless, shell-shocked even, her chest red from arousal, and sweat breaking out on her brow. She was panting, moaning, her eyes either staring glazed into the mid-distance, or roving across his chest, his shoulders, his glistening torso.

She wasn't looking at me at all, now. It was like I wasn't even there.

For a moment, I contemplated leaving, but I couldn't take my eyes off of them. And... I still didn't know what might be expected of me later. So, despite the sensation of - what, exactly? - shame? ... I began to touch myself again. I was still hard for her, for... for what was happening to her? for the show she was putting on? for knowing that my wife could be this desired, even by a brute like Jamal, half her age? I'm not sure at that point that I could distinguish between the many reasons, not sure I could put my finger on exactly why I was excited. But I was. And as he pumped her faster, and her moans became louder; as the sound of his body slapping against her echoed around me, and the rhythmic squelch of his cock in her pussy became lewder and louder... I pumped faster, too, forgetting myself entirely.

And suddenly, I was at the point of no return again. And although my second orgasm was powerful enough to make me moan again, my cock was only able to drip a few feeble spurts onto the carpet in front of me, and over my own sticky fingers as my knees trembled and I gasped for air.

In front of me, Jamal's hard fucking of Sanna showed no signs of abating. Both of them were focused solely on each other, and on their shared sexual ecstasy. I wasn't sure whether they'd even noticed that I'd made myself cum, again, or so quickly. And I didn't think they'd even care, now.

Taking a last look at them, I backed slowly away, to the downstairs toilet, to clean myself up. I could barely take my eyes off of them as I walked out, seeing the contrast of his dark muscles against her white curves, like a real live yin-yang symbol, their separate lines meeting and forming one coherent whole.

And as I reached the toilet and washed myself off, I looked in the mirror, and heard the sounds of Sanna's yelps in the background. And it was at this point, I think, that my subconscious whispered to me the secret of what was really beneath my arousal. I tried not to listen. I tried so hard. But as I looked into the reflection of my own eyes, I couldn't get the word out of my head.

Humiliation.

I sat on the toilet, and although my hands were over my ears, they couldn't quite keep out the sounds of Jamal's cock in my wife's cunt.

 

[SannaBlonde]

He came.

I just stared at him in complete awe, wide eyed. Jamal roared, pulled out and with some aggressively fast pumps a cumshot flew out, landing on my tits and belly. It was impossible not compare to what I was used to, my whole torso looked sticky and gooey. And he wasn't even finished. His cock was still hard as rock and he put it back inside me, now fucking me slowly as he leaned and kissed me. With our tongues inside each other's mouths he came once more, inside me..

It wasn't until he got off me that I noticed that Mark was absent. Jamal went to the bathroom and I went with him to get a dressing gown. Where was he? Now that this was over, I began coming to my senses some. This had not been much of a threesome, that much I had to admit. I wasn't sure what to do. When Jamal was finished in the bathroom he got dressed and there wasn't much more to say at this point - he seemed happy and when it came to sex, god so was I.. We kissed briefly and I showed him to the door. We spoke about maybe seeing each other again, he asked me if next time I could come to his place.. I said I would think about it..

'Oh there you are...' I found Mark in the smaller bathroom downstairs. I knew we had to talk, I just wasn't sure if either of us were in the mood. Maybe just give him some space, I thought.

'I'm going to take a shower..' I left him and went back upstairs.

 

[Bluebanzai]

My watch buzzed busily on my wrist, its discreet alarm rousing me back to consciousness. I opened my eyes.

Sunday morning. Time for the weekly running group. I looked across at Sanna, in the dawn's halflight. She was facing me in a foetal position, eyes tight shut, and sleeping like a child. Hmmm. She'd had a pretty exhausting evening, I thought to myself, with a mixture of irony and genuine tenderness.

Changing quickly into my running singlet and shorts, I slipped into the en suite and then went downstairs for a quick breakfast. I wouldn't see Sanna until tonight, now; she'd planned to spend the day with her ageing mother, about two hours' drive away, and by the time I got back from my post-run coffee, she'd be gone.

My mind was still trying to make sense of what had occurred last night, or rather, how I felt about it. After all, what had occurred was pretty clear. But I didn't know where it left us, now. Or even how to approach a conversation.

After Jamal had gone, Sanna had found me still in the downstairs toilet. I couldn't miss seeing that she appeared to be covered in cum. She hadn't really spoken to me for more than a moment , although she'd seemed kindly enough - which might actually have made me feel worse, for a little while. She'd headed upstairs and, unable to face her, I'd busied myself trying to clean up the lounge. The untouched wine bottles went back in the fridge, the half-empty beer ones into the rubbish. With a cloth, I attempted to sponge away the evidence of my cum on the carpet, and then, to clean the far more extensive trails of silvery, crusted bodily fluids that coated our sofa. The one that we sat on together every night, huddling up, watching tv, and sharing details of our day.

When I'd finally finished working and went up to the bedroom, Sanna had already appeared to be sleeping. I didn't rouse her - assuming of course that she wasn't simply feigning it - because I still didn't know what I wanted to say to her.

And so, Saturday night had faded into Sunday morning, and then drifted to Sunday afternoon, and our paths still hadn't crossed. Part of me was scared. Did she still want me, now? Or was last night evidence that we were through, that I was no longer enough for her?

Anxious to please her, I busied myself preparing dinner. I did this most of the time anyway, but for tonight, I made an effort. A nice boeuf bourguignon - simple but classy, and easy to keep ready in case she was late. A home-made tiramisù, one of her favourites. And, in case she was home early and wanted some aperitifs, I'd got the gin and tonic all chilled, with a few olives in a dish. Yes, those olives. Because they'd remained untouched yesterday, her attention being elsewhere.

With everything ready, I went up and changed into fresh clothes, feeling like I was getting ready for a date with a partial stranger. And then, I put a little ambient music on, and sat myself down on the sofa to wait.

It was only a short while later that I heard her key turning in the lock. And then, her footsteps, heels clicking as she walked along the hallway and into the lounge. I subconsciously wiped my sweaty palms on my trousers, and the door opened.

 

[SannaBlonde]

I came home from mother with mixed feelings about seeing Mark. There was so much to say about what had happened and during the day in between listening to mom I gave it some thought. But I wasn't sure exactly how to say what needed to be said, or how Mark would take it - and I wasn't sure how he was feeling. Maybe he would say things I didn't want to hear, and where would we be then?

As soon as I came through the front door and smelled boeuf bourguignon, I relaxed a little. It meant that he had made an effort to make the evening nice. That was sweet of him and told me that he was trying to make things good. I kissed him, held him for a moment, helped him set the table, talked small-talk about mother..

Even during dinner we kept Jamal out of it. It seemed like that was for the best - not let this man who had changed our marriage disrupt Sunday dinner. We seemed to have a silent agreement on this.

'So.. I don't know how to best say this.. but I have been thinking about it all day. And it has to be said up front, I think: What happened yesterday, what I experienced, even if it didn't play out as either of us expected - it was.. how do I put it.. well it made me feel like I have never felt. And don't take it personal even if I understand if you do. You could never do that to me and I don't think I even want you to try. I guess I'm trying to say that.. I need that again...'

I paused for a moment to let it sink in.

'I am not sure how.. or where.. but.. I need it. I know it. I feel it deeply.. And another thing, which is going to sound very weird.. It was like I liked you there... watching.. I don't really understand it but.. still.. and I'm wondering if maybe you feel the same way? Even if the circumstances were a bit of a shock...'

'It's going to change our lives.. but I want you to know i love you, maybe even more than before.. and I understand if you need to think about it.. if you need time by yourself.. I can see that this might seem hasty, not thought through.. but what Jamal did to me yesterday - I realized it's just been an explosion waiting to happen, it's been in me all the time, I just haven't understood it until now.. I now I see it clearly..'

I stopped there.

 

[Bluebanzai]

The kisses and the hugs? They mattered. A lot.

I think I needed to know that she still wanted me, that I still had a place. And for a moment there, I did. If we put the previous night out of our minds, it was like nothing had changed. Husband and wife, catching up on the day, sharing dinner and affectionate small talk across the table.

I knew it couldn't last. Because Jamal simply had to come up. And he did.

I think, in Sanna's mind, there was something very rational about her proposal. (Was it a proposal? It certainly felt that way, even if it was a little opaque). It was like she'd spent the day rehearsing her case, working things out so that they made perfect sense. Unarguable. Logical. "I still like you, Mark, but I also like this new thing. So I should be able to have it. And if you like me, you'll want me to have it too."

Unquestionably, it made sense, as an argument. Especially when expressed in isolation, with no context. But: hey, I have feelings, too? Your husband? The motherfucking context???

I don't do angry, much. Sometimes I even wonder if she thinks I'm a pushover, just because I can keep things in check. It's part of the skillset, in my role. Manage and defuse conflict. Keep the learners on track, help them feel safe, feel able to speak honestly, develop and grow.

So: I bit my tongue. Gave off 'thinking' vibes, like I was evaluating what she'd said. Because, if I'm honest, any verbal response that spilled out risked being equivalent to pressing a nuclear button. I was angry, all right.

To me, her words felt like betrayal, when I'd wanted apology. I mean, that's what I deserved, right?

Looking back, now, I can admit that there was the undercurrent of a conflicting emotion too. Do you know those times when you're arguing with your partner, and deep down you know they have a point, but you can't allow yourself to admit it? So, you let the anger be so loud that it drowns out everything else? Well, the very suggestion that I might have somehow approved of last night's events was so hard to countenance, that I silenced those whispers of doubt almost entirely. No way could I have enjoyed being a third wheel. It had been a humiliating, demeaning experience. No way. Definitely not. No!

I simply kept my counsel. I knew that if we were to find a way forward, we'd both need to be in a calm, constructive mood. So we just finished dinner, without me offering any clear response. I think she inferred that I was considering what had been said. We washed the dishes, and we watched some tv, my arm around her shoulder as she snuggled into me on the self-same sofa.

And then, we went to bed.

I don't know if she was trying to bring me round, or to make up, but somehow I found that we weren't on separate sides of the mattress, tonight. We met in the middle. And I kissed her, because I loved her, still; wanted her, even. It felt special that she'd choose to come back to me like this, even after the night before. I felt her hands reach down between my legs, and as she touched me, I began to grow harder, images of her deepthroating Jamal in my head, of the glazed look on her face as he fucked her, folded over like a ragdoll. Of the way that her screams of pleasure had reached me, even as I sat in the toilet, hands on my ears.

So I reached for her, too, and I felt the warmth of her breasts, the swelling of her nipples, and, further down, the fuzz of her pubic triangle as my cupped hand made its way between her legs.

And then, as we pushed the duvet aside, I looked down, and i saw my cock in her hand, her pretty nails wrapped around me. I remembered how she'd struggled to get those fingers around Jamal, how tiny my own member was when compared to his, and how I'd been unable to last even a fraction as long as he had. And I just couldn't do it, couldn't stay hard.

"Sorry, darling," I said. "I guess I'm just a bit tired, tonight."

I kissed her, pushed her arm away, and rolled over to turn off the bedside light.

 

[SannaBlonde]

When Mark couldn't get it up, or rather couldn't stay up, I wasn't that surprised. Having seen a man do what Jamal had done to his wife, I totally understood that it must mess with his mind. Normally, pushing me away and turning out the light without saying anything would have hurt me. But now I just let him have his space. It was strange though, a small part of me actually seemed pleased. Like I wasn't really up for sex with him after having been totally railed by Jamal anyway. Not this soon after at least. I also was thinking that maybe Mark had to witness what he witnessed, to fully understand things about my needs. And that he couldn't fulfill them.

I lay in the dark for a while, thinking. When I thought Mark was asleep, i got my phone out and with my right hand between my legs and left hand and fingers scrolling pics and videos of big men with blonde women I was quickly rubbing myself close to on orgasm. All I could think about was other men, spreading my legs apart and pushing down the cover as far as I dared. As I approached climax I realized that the mattress was rhythmically moving pretty hard and that the risk that Mark would hear me and feel me was actually exciting me.. I came, spasms surging in me that i couldn't stop and i held my hand over my mouth...

The next morning drinking coffee and Mark standing in the kitchen, I remembered something:

'Honey.. Your office party, was it this coming Friday?'

 

[Bluebanzai]

The dreaded office 'do'.

I've never been that much of a fan. I mean, you pick your friends, but someone else picks your workmates... unless you're the boss, I guess. Then you get to pick everyone. And then, only then, it might theoretically be fun, assuming that you were employing people for their charm and wit, rather than their ability to do spreadsheets, or complete company tax returns. Hugh Hefner seemed to host good work parties, in his day. I'm unsure about everyone else.

This Friday was our annual dinner. Partners invited. Black tie. Speeches from the big boss, a presentation or two, and, somewhere in the middle of the room, I'd be sitting with my own team, dressed to the nines, boygirlboygirlboygirl all the way round the table. Face aching from the forced smile.

We could probably have rustled up a decent evening between us, left to our own devices. Rachel, with whom I'd done a bunch of co-training, was always a good laugh, and Richard (the elder statesman of the team) had a pretty dry wit. If I'm unprofessionally honest, a little time with Tina wouldn't have gone amiss either... she was in her late twenties, new to the team, and had a figure to die for. Long, dark hair, eyes to drown in, and a pair of breasts that competed with them pretty effectively for your gaze. Not that I'd ever confided in any colleagues about my little crush, of course, and I never would, because the only thing that travelled quicker than email in our team was gossip. And I really didn't need that.

Actually, most of my team were passable company. Executive trainers do tend to be competent at getting on with others. The key problem with the planned event was this. Bruce.

Bruce was my boss, about sixty, and at the tail end of whatever enthusiasm he'd ever been able to muster for people management. Not a trainer, as it happened, not great at getting on with others, and in fact possessed of very little familiarity with my role at all. He was, however, possessed of other attributes. Such as being the cousin of the CEO.

Bruce would be hosting our table. Which generally consisted of him dominating the conversation, loudly, and to the exclusion of all others. He wasn't afraid to throw his weight around, either, often making jokes at the expense of others in the group. And of course, Bruce had either a lowish opinion of me, or maybe just the total absence of one, given how he'd passed me over for the majority of interesting opportunities that had come up over the last few years. I didn't know why this might be, but I do know that Richard and I harboured similar suspicions. Neither of us wore skirts. And neither of us got noticed. Possibly, coincidence... but probably, not.

Still, if we could get through the formal bit of the dinner, everyone would starburst to the bar, and I could tick off another year of not committing professional suicide by saying what I thought.

We'd got a room at the hotel, too; the company always paid, and although it wasn't exactly five star, we could definitely count that as a fringe benefit. I might, I mused, suggest breakfast in bed, and a late departure. I could book a spa treatment for Sanna, and we could stay after the others had gone. A bit of 'us' time.

I still didn't know exactly how I was feeling about 'us' right now, but if there was to be an 'us' at all, I'd have to work at it. And whatever my mixed feelings at this precise point, I certainly didn't want to let Sanna go. We'd some bridges to rebuild. So I made a mental note: book a morning-after massage, or a nice relaxing facial, perhaps; get some chocolates and fizz sorted for the room, maybe even see if they could sort a paid room upgrade.

I noticed that she was still looking at me, quizzically.

"Yes, darling," I answered, feeling suddenly perkier. "Office function is on Friday. Well remembered." And I smiled broadly at her.

 

[SannaBlonde]

Mark told me about the arrangements he'd made with hotel, spa and the works. Making what promised to be one of those boring office do's into a lovely weekend. It was probably Mark feeling the need for this after the Jamal thing, more than me.. It was nice of him though even if I sensed a slight need from him to compensate in some way.

In all honesty, I didn't find the office party things quite as loathsome as Mark did. I was probably simply better at handling the social aspect, the small-talk. I was actually looking forward to it, in my mind the last thing Mark and I needed right now was to be staring at each other across a table just the two of us, or just chilling at home by the TV. We needed some external input, people around us. I wasn't sure he was of the same opinion.

I even went out and bought a new dress and new underwear for the occasion. Trying out the dress at home, I realized that one couldn't really wear a bra with it, but the new panties fit nicely.

Bruce. I'd met Bruce a couple of times, and heard plenty about him at home. On the one hand I could sympathize with Mark, his boss seemed a bit of a bastard and was obviously not always treating Mark in a good way. On the other hand I was frustrated that Mark didn't do more to assert himself and I was pretty sure that Bruce noticed that and lost respect for him because of it. I had on occasion said something to that effect - but it seemed a no-go zone. I told Mark that it wasn't a Bruce-problem necessarily, but a Mark-problem. Something he should try to do something about if he was so displeased...

On those occasions I'd met Bruce, he'd been nice to me. Flirty yes sure, that was his personality it seemed. But I remember laughing, I don't recall at what. There was something about him anyhow, an aura. A strength. A magnetism.

 

[Bluebanzai]

The ensuing week was a strange one. Sanna didn't really raise the events of Saturday night with me again, and I wasn't keen to kickstart a conversation, either. Not least because I still wasn't exactly sure how I felt, or what all of it meant for our future relationship. If nothing else, though, the absence of Jamal from our discussions seemed to bode well for a corresponding absence of Jamal from our house. Which was undoubtedly a good thing.

That said, I confess that I found myself replaying some of Saturday's scenario in my head time and again, often when I least expected to. I'd definitely been more distracted than usual at work, and as I pictured Sanna kneeling, throat wide and a mouth full of cock, there was a physical reaction too. I struggled at first with why I should find her actions at all arousing, but I think the answer was probably twofold. Firstly, she'd looked like some kind of porn star at times, which was undoubtedly hot, particularly if I edited out the disturbing appearance of her freakishly large co-star. Secondly, I'd had my eyes opened to some of the potential desires and abilities of a wife who, I'd always thought, was largely satisfied with the missionary position, and oral on special occasions. There was definitely a part of me that hoped her new-found adventurousness might read across into my own sex life, too. If I'm totally honest, I think this might have been why I was on something of a charm offensive for the office dinner. That, and the fact that Sanna clearly felt like something had been missing, lately.

On the Wednesday, Sanna had been out and invested in some new clothes, in preparation. While she'd only mentioned that in passing, I couldn't stop myself from looking through the bags she'd dropped at her side of the bed. The dress, if I wasn't mistaken, was going to be pretty fitted, and pretty short, both of which I took as good things. And, more excitingly still, she'd got herself some sexy new underwear too. The bra was lacy, and plunging, and the panties looked like little more than a wide belt. It seemed that perhaps Sanna was keen to rekindle a flame, too, and I was very much up for that.

In fact, I was becoming increasingly aroused, and I'm a little ashamed to say that on the Thursday, as she popped out to the shops, I took her new panties out of their bag and, heading for the en suite, used them to rub my reinvigorated manhood. As I got closer to climax, the now-familiar pictures flashed through my mind once more: Sanna, kneeling and sucking; Sanna, legs around her ears; Sanna, covered in another man's cum as she headed back to me afterwards. I came, hard, my spunk spraying across the bathroom tiles and onto the wall, and I noticed that I'd carelessly dribbled onto her new underwear too. Fuck. Sponging them clean with a flannel, I replaced them in the bag, certain that it would go unnoticed: and I used the same cloth to wipe the tiles, before rinsing it out and dropping it into the laundry basket. I felt a strange mix of shame and elation, and when Sanna returned barely a few minutes later, I found myself flushing guiltily as we spoke.

I couldn't wait for Friday to come, which was not my usual view on work events. Sanna was working from home that day, and I'd deliberately kept my own workload lighter too, so that we were able to get off to the hotel nice and early. My dinner jacket was pressed and packed, and there was a bottle of fizz waiting for us as we arrived in our upgraded junior suite.

We had about two hours to kill before we had to get ready, but I'd booked Sanna in for that massage, and she seemed pretty pleased with the arrangements I'd made. I kissed her, quite passionately, as she headed down to the spa. And then, I lay on the bed, hand down my pants, idly fondling my groin and smiling to myself as I thought about what the evening might bring. With my other hand, I reached over to the bedside table, and poured another self-congratulatory glass of prosecco.

 

[SannaBlonde]

I thought about Jamal all week. It was impossible not to. The first couple of days I was so confused that a defense mechanism in me probably shut him out - or at least shut out the consequences of what represented. But as the week progressed he came back in my mind. I could still feel his big black cock deep inside both my throat and pussy. Like a phantom.

As Thursday became Friday I had some kind of half-awake dream at night where Jamal turned into... Bruce. It was absurd of course. Jamal to Bruce and in there somewhere Mark.

The hotel was lovely and it let me think of something else and how I loved Mark for many reasons, amongst others for thinking about this, arranging this, and even booking a massage for me. The masseuse was great and it took my mind off both my private life and work for a while. Soothing and relaxing. Much needed. Why doesn't one get massages more often?

Back in the room I got prepared, dressing, fixing my hair and make-up, feeling Mark's eyes on me as I did. I caught him behind me staring as I stood there in front of the mirror in just my new panties while I did my eyes.

'Everything Ok back there, officer?' I joked and grinned. I was looking forward to this evening.

We went to the place. It was actually at the hotel. The firm had reserved the whole conference section of it, so apart from a big dining room where about 100 guests were arriving there was a bar room like a small pub with comfy armchairs and sofas, and also conference rooms where the company board had been meeting during the day. As we reached the entrance to the dining area, a waiter welcomed us and pointed to a board where we were asked to find our names. There were five long tables with twenty places on each. Mark quickly found his, he was on table 5. Naturally I looked for my name in the vicinity, but it took a while to see that I was on table one. And next to Bruce. What an honour. What a surprise. Mark and i glanced at each other. There were people behind us waiting so we had to rush in, going our separate ways....


'Hi there gorgeous!' Bruce stood up as I approached. He kissed me on the cheek and we sat. He poured me wine, and we started talking. I was expecting him to have his attention elsewhere seeing as he was a in a position of importance - but no. He was on to me immediately, and didn't let go. I was a little astounded at this, but he was charming and funny and I forgot about both Mark, Jamal and other guests as Bruce and I had our own little thing at the table - during main course and desert. I drank a bit too much probably..

As desert was finishing up, he turned to me and said:
'Let's get out of here, let me buy you a drink at the bar...' I was happy to. Walking off, I glanced in the direction of Mark who was sitting far away, talking to someone. He didn't look too happy. We saw each other, I gave him a little wave.. I wanted to say more, but Bruce held my hand and pushed on.

'So.. you and Mark. I don't see it. Tell me you guys have an open relationship. Surely you feel that need, no?'

I was dumbfounded. Bruce and I sat at the bar, it was still pretty empty. Most of the guests were still in the dining area listening to speeches and music. Our conversation at the table had at times become pretty personal. He told me about his divorce, he was flirty, giving me looks all the time. Not that it made me uncomfortable, yet... still wrong somehow... But also.. exciting. He was that kind of a man.

And now this. Apart from the sheer cheekiness of the posed question, what made me so shocked was how right he was. Not that we had an open relationship, but because of Jamal. It was like he knew. Could tell. I should have kept my damn mouth shut, of course. But maybe it was the wine, this rum and coke, the way Bruce had a way of pulling things out of you, his powerful way of just.. being... I don't know. But I said:

'We don't.. not like that.. I mean.. well.. he's watched me. With another man...'

I regretted it instantly. But there it was. And Bruce was like a shark. A predator on the prowl.

'Tell me. Tell me fucking everything, Sanna.. come on. Now.'

And I did. Just like that. Everything.

 

[Bluebanzai]

Well, there's good news and bad news to report, I guess. Curate's egg, is that the right phrase?

The first bit of good news was my wife. She came back from her spa treatment absolutely glowing. Now I come to think of it, she'd had a certain aura about her all week. But anyway, she pops off to the shower, and comes back to get ready. Slips on those panties, which disappear up her ass, and stands there rather delightfully doing her face and hair in the mirror, as I lie on the bed, enjoying the floorshow. She really is attractive, and some days I do remember how fortunate I am to have her. Quite apart from the whole blonde/blue thing, she's fairly tall, toned, and with what I think are spectacular legs. Plus, her ass is great... she'll always say that it's carrying a little excess, but I like curves. Especially hers. Anyway, I noticed how great she was looking, and she definitely noticed me noticing.

If we hadn't been on a timeline, I think I might have made a pass at her then and there. But: the night was young, I consoled myself. I made sure I followed her down the corridor though, watching her wiggle. And there were definite stirrings in the trouser department as we headed for the lobby.

Which brings me to the next piece of news. They'd mixed up the seating plan, this year. Something about breaking down silos, maximising collaboration, growing our networks. So: good news, I wasn't going to be on a table with Bruce, and was actually pretty much opposite Richard, who's always a laugh. Plus, Tina was in my direct line of sight on the next table, wearing a navy blue cocktail dress that left little to the imagination, her long legs sheathed in dark nylon. But: bad news, too. I wasn't seated anywhere near my wife.

Seriously, what the hell? What kind of seating plan splits up partners over dinner? As I familiarised myself with the occupants of my table, it looked like Sanna and I had been singled out for special treatment. She'd been whisked off to join the bigwigs on top table, and was going to have the dubious pleasure of sitting next to... yup, Bruce. So as I ploughed through three courses of upper-tier mass catering, I was half a room away from her. I didn't know whether to be pleased or annoyed that at least she seemed to be having a decent time. Whenever I looked over at her, she appeared to be laughing at some anecdote or other. I just hoped that Bruce could manage to behave himself, and that he wouldn't be making yours truly the butt of his jokes. I consoled myself that I'd only have to put up with this for a couple of hours, and then I could rejoin Sanna and escape to a comfy corner somewhere... or maybe even head off for an early night.

But when I glanced across again half way through the speeches, Bruce and Sanna's chairs were empty. It looked like the flirtatious bastard had spirited her away for a drink, no doubt on expenses rather than from his own pocket. A small part of me felt grateful to Sanna: no doubt, she was busy lobbying him about my abilities, and trying to put in a good word or two. But the overwhelming feeling was one of annoyance, at Bruce.

As the last of the presentations wrapped up, Richard tapped me on the shoulder.

"Fancy a whisky? I'm feeling in the mood to loosen up a little."

"Sorry, mate. I need to go and rescue Sanna. We were trying to get some couples time tonight, and I've barely seen her. Raincheck?"

He nodded, and I headed off to the bar, clutching an unopened bottle of wine from the table, and a couple of glasses. It didn't take me long to find them, occupying a table for two in the far corner.

Sanna was sitting back in her chair, cross-legged, running her fingers through her hair and sipping some kind of cocktail. Bruce had pulled his chair close to hers, and was leaning forward, quite close to her personal space... not least, as I thought to myself, since she'd opted to leave that bra at home. I walked up to them, grabbing an upright chair as I did so.

"Hi guys, how's it going?" I ventured, as I sat myself down on the other side of the small table.

 

[SannaBlonde]

I probably needed it, sharing what was happening in my life to someone outside of Mark and Jamal. But sharing it with Mark's boss? Yeah well. Not my greatest idea. But it just happened, he pushed the right buttons it seemed.

I'd just finished telling him, seeing a big grin on his face but also understanding and empathy. He directly told me that he had experience of this, what he called cuckolds, hotwives, bulls.. Hearing those words coming out of his mouth, it excited me somehow. Honestly right now, I was extremely attracted to this older man.

That's when Mark came.

'Oh hi darling!' I said and smiled, a little embarrassed at being 'caught' here with Bruce. I pushed my hair in place, giggled a little and took another sip of my drink.

'Hey.. look I was just having a little private conversation with your lovely wife. Why don't you be a good boy and wait in the bar until we're done?'

I stared at Bruce, then at Mark, then back at Bruce. It was like a stand-off where I was some kind of prize in the middle - not a role I was comfortable with or used to. Neither was Mark. I wanted to help him.

‘It’s ok Mark. I’ll be with you in a moment..’

Watching him walk away reminded me of the evening with Jamal. He’d walked away then too, while Jamal was buried deep inside me. Right now, it was like Bruce was deep inside me too, at any rate he was fucking me with his eyes. He had been since the evening began. And I liked it.

Seeing him ‘give up’ was having consequences. I realized I was drastically losing respect. Not love, just respect. Bruce and Jamal so clearly being Men with the big M. Alphas with a capital A. Mark was… mark. A mark. God.. I was thinking mean thoughts…

‘I think the next logical step would be for me to escort you to my room..’ Bruce stated, then leaned closer and whispered in my ear:
‘I want to fuck your pretty mouth and then fuck your beautiful pussy.. tell me, Sanna baby.. tell me to fuck you.. say it. Just two words…’

He kissed my ear, nibbled my earlobe. His words were lewd, pornographic. Ask me a year ago and I would’ve winced, maybe slapped his face. Now?

‘Fuck me…’ I was red hot, my cheeks burning a bright blush. And we stood up. My legs were shaking as we walked to the bar, my hand in his.
There was Mark.

 

[Bluebanzai]

I picked up my wine bottle, and the two glasses, and blundered towards the bar. I could feel my blood rising: out of anger, shame, embarrassment. What was Sanna playing at? And how dare Bruce speak to me like that? It felt like he was crossing a line, although I had to admit I'd allowed him to cross others in the past.

Richard was positioned at the corner of the bar, chatting animatedly with Rachel. I headed straight for them, in need of a friendly face or two.

"Hey guys. Mind if I join you?"

"Sure thing," answered Richard. "I thought you were planning to catch up with your delightful wife, though? I do hope there's not been a lover's tiff..." He looked across at Rachel, and winked.

"Where is she, anyway?" asked Rachel. "I wanted to pick her brain for a minute. I love the dress she's wearing tonight. I don't suppose you know where she got it from?"

"Actually, she's over there, with Bruce. Doing some diplomatic lobbying for me, no doubt." I smiled ruefully. "Can I get either of you a drink?"

"No need. Looks like Sanna's escaped," said Richard. "Oh... what?"

Rachel's eyes were like saucers as I turned round to look. Sanna was indeed heading in my direction, but not alone. Bruce was accompanying her. And they were holding hands.

"Mark!" called Bruce, causing a head or two to flick round. "We're just heading out for a little while. You'll be ok with the team, right?"

I looked helplessly at Sanna. "What..?"

She, in turn, squeezed Bruce's hand, and spoke to him.

"I... think I'd like Mark to come, of that's ok?"

Bruce smirked at me. "Sure thing. I like it. Mark?" He turned to me. "Looks like your luck's in, little man. You get to join us."

By now, there weren't just three of us in the conversation. Several others were listening, too. Keen not to make a scene and draw attention, I stood, and followed silently in Bruce's wake as he exited the bar, now with his arm around my wife's waist. There was at least a degree of ambiguity about what was going on here, I convinced myself. For the casual onlooker, at least. Not so much for anyone who'd been in our lounge last weekend. And as one of them, I had a very unpleasant feeling about where this was heading.

The three of us tumbled into a lift opposite reception, and Bruce pushed the button for the top floor. Then, he reached over and squeezed my wife's breast. I could see her nipple responding to his touch, through the tight-fitting fabric.

"Sanna..." I looked at her, pleadingly.

"Don't worry, Mark," Bruce interjected, grinning at me. "I'll take good care of her. Make sure she's happy."

Sanna looked at the floor briefly, then up again, meeting my eye. "I want this, Mark," she insisted, in a husky whisper. "And you need to accept what I want, now."

My head was spinning as the lift halted, the doors opening a few yards from Bruce's corner suite. They breezed into it together, the door just beginning to close behind them as I reached out a hand to stop it.

Thw two of them were embracing, now, and I watched Sanna whisper something into Bruce's ear, as she glanced over at me. And then she turned, sashaying out of the lounge area where we were standing, and towards what I could now see was the bathroom.

Bruce turned to face me.

"Well," he said. "I must say I wasn't expecting this tonight. Still, I guess you weren't, either?" He paused; I couldn't find the words, so he continued. "I'm not entirely sure how this is going to play out. But I'll tell you what I do know.

"Your wife is just in the bathroom, freshening up for me. When she comes out, she and I will be doing all of those filthy things that you don't, or can't. She's going to be feeling a real man inside her. For the second time this week, as I understand it?" He grinned, again, and I could honestly have punched his lights out there and then, if Sanna hadn't emerged from the bathroom at that moment.

"What shall we do with the little guy, darling?" he asked her. "Shall I get him to sit in the armchair, while we adjourn to the bedroom? Or would you prefer that we get acquainted on the sofa as he watches?"