Our Three Threesomes, Part 2

[photo: Tverdohlib.com]

For Him

In the days following our threesome with Taylor, we have sex like we used to when we first got together, not like a couple in our mid-forties who’ve been together for more than half of our lives.

Since the pandemic, we both started working from home, and yet we’d never taken advantage of the long hours together to fuck in the middle of the day. Now it becomes part of the routine. Yet none of it feels like a routine.

We also talk to each other, discussing what we’ve already done and what’s going to happen. “Watching you and Taylor together was… I still can’t believe it,” I tell her after one of our many love-making sessions.

Farah chuckles, masking her discomfort. “Yeah, I can’t either. To be honest, I’m still working through it.”

“Do you regret it?”

“No.”

“Did you have fun doing it?”

Goosebumps form on her skin as I run my hand along her arm. “Yeah, it was fun,” she admits.

“Then there’s nothing more to work through. Take a page from Taylor’s book. You had a good time. Life doesn’t need to be any deeper than that, and you don’t have to attach a label to everything.”

Farah takes the advice to heart, nodding. I’m not sure she’s totally convinced, but it’s enough. “When we first decided to do this, I figured there’d be some… you know… contact. A double blowjob is every guy’s fantasy, and I wanted you to be at the center of attention. When she kissed me…” Color springs to her high cheeks. “It wasn’t what I was expecting. And when she went down on me…” More color, like a red rash climbing up her neck. “Honey, it was…”

“Different?” I help out.

“Amazing.” She bites her lip, embarrassed by the admission. “And then, when you two put me at the center…” She shivers at the memory.

“I loved watching that,” I tell her. I’m already hard again. “I loved how turned on you were.”

Farah takes a deep breath. “Are you going to be okay when it’s me between you and Jordan?”

That was the agreement. I got my threesome. Farah would get hers. It would be wrong for me to renege on it now, but looking at her, I know that I could. If I confessed at how uncomfortable the idea made me, she’d find some excuse to shut it down.

But that wouldn’t be fair, and I’m not going to do that to my wife. I can man up. If she could do what she did for me, I could do the same for her.

“I’ll be okay,” I say. “Just don’t expect any guy-on-guy action.”

Farah chuckles. “Don’t worry. Unlike you, I don’t secretly hope that my partner’s bisexual.” She blushes, realizing what she just implied. “Not that I’m bisexual.”

“No one’s labeling.”

“Come here and fuck me.”

***

“You’re sure you’re sure about this?” Farah asks. This will be the last time she asks. There’s no more time to back out.

“I’m sure.”

She’s just finished putting on her makeup in the bathroom and comes out, looking stunning. Her dark hair is loose, falling in lazy curls around her bare shoulders. She’s wearing the lingerie that we’d selected together. The white lace, like a new bride, looks good against her caramel creamy skin, a contrast that I remember from our own wedding night. The bra is complex, the lacy straps crossing over her chest and around her neck. The thong is much less so, just a small, white, lacy thing that doesn’t even try to hide her dark landing strip.

Farah holds my eyes and measures me. I smile, nod, and go to her, putting my arms on her hips. “I’m sure,” I repeat. It’s as much for me as it is for her, but I’m starting to believe it. This is just sex, after all, but more than that, it’s sex for pleasure—for Farah’s pleasure. “I want you to go. I want you to have fun, and for those two to blow your mind.”

Farah chews on her lower lip. “You sure?”

I take her hand and guide it to my swelling cock. “I’m sure.”

She nods. Despite the evidence, she’s still skeptical, but she seems to let it go.

“And when it’s over,” I add, “you’ll come back to me and it will be amazing.”

“God, I love you.” She kisses me, despite her makeup, her lipstick, all that she’s done to make herself look amazing to this other couple.

She puts on a dress, a casual wrap-dress in black and white—one that I’ve seen her wear a hundred times to the grocery store or the mall. Now, it hides her sexy secret. She doesn’t even bother with fancy shoes, just puts on her everyday sandals. 

Farah kisses me again at the door, but doesn’t ask if I’m sure. We’re beyond that. The next few hours are for them.

“Have fun,” I say. “Don’t think about me. Just… have fun.”

“I will.”

And she’s gone.

It’s 8:30 pm. We had a nice dinner together, Farah opting for a salad so that she was feeling good and not bloated. We shared a glass of white wine, but only one. 

Last week, when Taylor came over, it was around the same time. We chatted like we weren’t about to have a threesome, before Taylor suggested we go upstairs. Despite the experience being so monumental, Taylor was gone by 11.

Eleven o’clock becomes my milestone. If I could just make it to 11, then… dot, dot, dot. That’s the thing, I really don’t know what happens next. I don’t know how I’ll feel when she returns. I don’t know how things will be different.

I feel like I’ve fallen into the middle of a fast flowing river and can’t figure out where it’s going or how to get out of it. One evening, we were drinking with our neighbors on the back patio. Someone brought up fantasies. Taylor announced that she had none, that she’d fulfilled them all. When we expressed skepticism, she turned it back on us.

“What are your fantasies?”

I gave the standard guy fantasy of “sex with two women,” which earned me an eye-roll from Farah and a breezy laugh from Taylor. When she looked towards Farah and said, “And you?” Farah surprised me.

“Sex with two men, of course.” She looked at me, like this was her quippy retort.

“Oh, that’s a good one. You should definitely make it happen, girl,” Taylor encouraged, as if Farah said that she wanted to join a new gym. “In fact…” When she glanced at her husband, we all knew that trouble was happening. “Let’s do it. Let’s make these fantasies happen!”

Jordan seemed used to his wife behaving impulsively like this. He grinned at Farah and me before turning to his wife. “Your heart’s in the right place, but—”

“This has nothing to do with my heart, Jordan.”

Jordan chuckled. He had a good chuckle. He was a tall, muscular black man with a voice like a DJ’s. His laugh was smooth as velvet. “Maybe these folks don’t want to actually… you know…”

Farah glanced at me. She was caught up in the moment. She gets like that around Taylor, feeding off the younger woman’s carefree spirit. “I’m in.”

She looked at me, and I knew I was supposed to be the voice of reason. All it took was a glance at Taylor and her blonde hair and big, blue eyes, and reason was gone. “I mean, if you’re serious, sure. I’m game.”

“Oh, goodie,” Taylor said, clapping her hands.

“What about you two? Any… any fantasies?” She looked too nervous to look in Jordan’s direction. In fact, she’d been deliberately not looking at him ever since this topic came up.

“Oh, like I said, I’ve done it all,” Taylor said. “But Jordan here has a thing for older women.”

“Taylor, don’t be rude,” Jordan said. “Farah couldn’t be older than us.”

“I’m actually 45, but I appreciate the flattery.”

“No…” Jordan was genuinely surprised. “Damn girl, you need to share your secret with Taylor.” He slapped his thighs and looked hungrily at my wife. “If y’all are sure, I’m more than a willing participant.”

Farah blushed. Taylor giggled. And around this time, I realized I’d fallen into that current and there was no escaping.

Thinking about my situation is how I spend my first hour alone. That and realizing that we are out of beers, don’t really want to drink wine, so I decide to make myself an Old Fashioned. Feels like the appropriate drink to have when your wife’s having a threesome with another couple.

The second hour I spend trying to watch television and not really being able to follow any of it. I put on a soccer game and have no idea who’s even playing. All I can think about is Farah in Jordan’s muscular, black arms. Or Farah taking his big, black cock into her mouth. Or Farah spreading her legs as he sinks that dick into her.

And I’m hard, thinking about this. I’m conflicted and extremely jealous, too, but also, undeniably hard. Cuckold angst, they call it. So I’ve heard.

10:30 rolls around. They’ve had sex by now. Probably more than once. By this time last week, I had come three times—not something I’d done since my early thirties. Jordan was in his early thirties, so I’m sure he’s managing just fine.

10:45, and they are probably wrapping up. Some last cuddles. Some last kisses and gropes. Taylor can be a real instigator. Maybe she’s making out with Farah to get Jordan back up. Maybe he’s up already, and they’re having one last goodbye fuck. It gets easier as the minutes tick by. I accept my fate. I accept it and am happy for her. She blew my mind last week. I hope Jordan blows hers.

11:00 and I start pacing. Any minute now. Any second. I check my watch. I check my empty Old Fashioned. Consider making another but decide to wait. I don’t want to be sloshed when she comes home. Best part, Taylor had said last week, was the reclamation. I’d read that somewhere else, too.

Only she doesn’t come home at 11:00. Or 11:15. Or 11:30. I make that second Old Fashioned and finish it by midnight. Still no Farah. My stomach squirms. My chest tightens. I go to the window, like I can see their house—I can’t. It’s three down and out of sight. I consider going over there, but even in my state, I realize how crazy that sounds.

So I go upstairs and get ready. She’ll be home soon, and I’ll be in bed when she is, ready to take her back into my arms. I start to get sleepy around 12:30. The booze kicks in. My eyelids are heavy. I check my phone, just in case she’s texted. She hasn’t. I consider texting, but in the end resist. We didn’t discuss a schedule. We didn’t talk about logistics. We didn’t talk about any of this very much. But she’s safe. I can trust Taylor and Jordan. She probably just fell asleep.

Just like I do.

Not that I get great sleep. I wake in starts, first checking the spot beside me, then checking the time. She’s not home at 1:43, or 3.04, or 4:55. Each time I wake, it takes me a while to get back to sleep. When I do, my dreams are weird and sexual and gone when I wake again.

She comes home just before six in the morning. The sun is already rising. I feel like I’ve barely slept. She crawls into bed quietly, like she’s trying not to wake me, and she smells like soap and Taylor’s shampoo.

“You have a good time?” My voice is groggy with my fitful sleep.

“Sorry to wake you.” Her whisper tells me that she’s not just woken up. So does her damp hair. “Yes, it was fun. Go back to sleep, we’ll talk in the morning.”

But back to sleep is just not an option. “It’s already morning.” I turn and pull her close. I’m naked, never having bothered to put on PJs. Farah did put on hers, though, a pair of little shorts and a cami top. “You fall asleep over there?”

“No,” she says. I hear the blush in her reply. “There wasn’t much sleeping going on.”

It’s like a gut punch mixed with that instant right before orgasm. I feel turned inside out. I feel broken and alive, electrified, devastated. Yet she’s here. She’s back. She’s returned.

I pull her close and tight, squeezing her and half expecting her to turn to vapor like the tail end of a dream. But she doesn’t. She’s solid, laughing at the hug. “Welcome home, honey,” I say.

“It’s so good to be home.” Her voice is exhausted, yet happy, like an athlete’s triumphant exhalation.

“Was it good?”

She pauses before answering, but only for a moment. “Yes. It was good.”

“Did you and Jordan…?”

“Yes.” This time, there’s no hesitation. “Jordan and I had sex. A lot of sex.”

I gasp. I knew the answer and still it stings. But I’m also so hard. I want this woman so much. Reclamation, now I understand it. I kiss her, tasting the mint of toothpaste, her effort to wash away the evidence. But the evidence is everywhere—her moist, washed skin, her makeup gone, her hair still wet.

“You showered,” I say.

“I wanted to be clean for you.”

“Did you shower alone?”

She shakes her head. My cock stiffens even more. “With Jordan?” Jordan—holding her against the tiled wall as he pounds into her.

“With Taylor, actually.” It’s light enough in the room now that I can see her blush on those high, dusky cheeks. I thicken even more.

“I’m glad you went.”

“How was it? Were you okay here?”

“I was okay. Didn’t sleep very well.” I push a strand of dark hair off her cheek. “Better now.” I kiss her again. “Are you too sore?”

She wants to say yes, but she worries. I know that look.

“It’s okay,” I reassure. “We both could use some more sleep.”

She looks grateful, snuggling up close to me. As if a weight is taken off, she sags, letting the exhaustion come and take her. I hold her, happy for her return, as she drifts off to sleep in my arms. Next thing I know, I fall asleep as well. 

***

I wake to the warm, wet feeling of a mouth on my cock. I lie there, sighing, as my dreams recede like the tide up a vast beach, and Farah is with me again, staring at me from between my legs, her dark eyes so familiar.

I never came last night. I wanted to hold out, to wait for her, so my balls are heavy and ready to pop. As good as this feeling is, I want more.

I guide her up to me, kiss her mouth, hot now from sucking on me. I peel her cami off. Her dark nipples stand hard, and she has a new hickey on the soft slope of her left tit. She has another on the nape of her neck on the opposite side.

I run my hands down her back, to those small PJ shorts, and push them off her ass. I wonder if she’ll feel different. I wonder how much bigger Jordan is. I want to ask, but can’t build up the courage.

She steps out of the shorts before settling back down on my dick, which is as stiff as a bone. “You’re so hard,” she whispers as she feeds it to her pussy.

“I waited…” It’s hard to talk. It takes almost all of my willpower not to cream before she’s fully impaled. “Wanted… reclaim…”

“Taylor definitely talked it up.” She’s so wet, and when she shifts over me, I sink into her with so little resistance. I wonder if that’s Jordan’s come lubricating her, or if he stretched her out, or if she’s just excited to be home. She inhales sharply, wincing before settling all the way to my cock’s base.

“Does it hurt?”

She shakes her head. “Just… just take it slow.”

“You set the pace.”

She nods, and slowly, she begins to roll her hips. She’s definitely not as tight as she was before. Only this time, when I think of Jordan fucking her with some kind of superhuman cock, it turns me on even more.

I have so many questions, some I want to ask, some I’m not sure I ever can. But for now, we don’t speak. We make love. We reconnect. I pull her close to me, wanting to feel her sweat on my body. I want to kiss her neck, where someone else left a hickey. I want to kiss her mouth in the slow reconnection.

She gets used to me. She pulls away from our kiss, head over my shoulder, as she starts riding me faster. Her breath is hot in my ear, a rhythmic panting like a sexual metronome.

“I need your come,” she whispers. It’s not something that she’s ever asked, and now she’s demanding it. “Give me your come, baby.”

She squeezes my thighs and sits up, her palms on my shoulders, fingernails digging into my skin. Her hair falls around her in a dark mass as she tosses her head back and arches away from me. I drink in her raw beauty. She’s a goddess—my goddess. Hands on her hips, I’m so close. There’s a third hickey I didn’t see before on the underside of her boob. Her stomach ripples, and I can see her abs, the results of that healthy diet and long hours in the gym that she talked about. And there, between her legs, I get a shock.

“Uh!” I grunt. My balls tighten, and I’m there, throbbing deep.

She’s shaved. Her landing strip is gone.

“Yes!” She joins me, clenching her teeth, her jaw, her eyes. “Nghh yes!”

Her pussy, for the first time in our long relationship, is now blissfully devoid of curls.

“Oh, Farah!”

For someone else.

“Yes!”

And I am so fucking turned on.

She’s back on me as she comes down from her high, but cock softening enough that I slip out of her. I nuzzle her neck. I hold her to me.

“So last night…” I begin, because I’m not sure how else to begin.

“Mmm, thank you for letting me do that.”

“Tell me what you did.” I feel a burning behind my ears. My heartrate never comes back down after the sex.

“I went over there, and they had a glass of wine ready for me. We actually just talked at first. Jordan’s a funny guy. I like him.”

“Okay.” I’m not sure how to process that.

“Taylor got things going, of course. She told me to sit in Jordan’s lap. Said she loved watching him with others. Called herself a cuckold queen or something.”

“Cuckquean, actually. Has a funny spelling.”

She looks at me. “How do you know that?”

“I’ve done a little research on the topic. You’re now a hotwife. One word.”

Farah giggles. “A little androcentric, but I can get behind that.”

“So she told you to sit in Jordan’s lap…” I prompt.

“Right. And we started kissing.” She checks on me at this. I nod in encouragement. “It’s so crazy, kissing another man. He’s so different from you.”

“Better?”

She makes a face. “Different. And new, so there’s excitement because of that. All of it is so new. Taylor moved over beside us, and at first I thought she just wanted a better look. Then she started to untie my dress and it was game on.”

She gives me the loose outline at first. Once Farah was down to her thong, Taylor pulled her to the floor between Jordan’s legs and the two took off his pants. They gave him a double blowjob, and Farah swallowed his first load. Again, I want to ask if he’s bigger, but can’t, and Farah doesn’t offer.

They headed upstairs to the bedroom, where they all got naked. “Did you like that?” I ask. 

“I mean, yeah?” She giggles. “He’s really fit. The two of them could be models.”

“Yeah.”

“At that point, Jordan kind of took control. We made out some more. We got on the bed. He was on top of me, kissing my neck—he gave me a hickey! Then told me to put it in me. I…” She blushes. “I told him that I didn’t think he’d fit.”

A throb rises through me like a fat bubble, popping in a dizzying burst out the top of my head. “He was big?”

“Yeah. Like, I think maybe too big?”

I swallow even still. “But he did fit.”

“Yes, he did. I’ve never felt anything like it.”

“You liked it?”

“Like when we were kissing, it was just different. With you, you’re sweet, we connect, we make love. You know? With Jordan… Jordan fucks. There’s no other way to say it. We never had an emotional moment, but yeah, I liked it. A lot.” She winced. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m not upset. I’m happy for you.” Only when I say it do I realize how true it is. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have fun with Taylor.”

Farah nods. “Thank you.” She touches my face. “For all of it.”

I reach between us and run a finger over her smooth mound. Another of those throbs bubbles through me. “So when did this happen?”

“After the first time. He… he told Taylor to do it.”

“I need to buy him a beer.”

She pushes me lightly on the shoulder. “You like it?”

“I do.”

“It made it feel really nice when Taylor and I…” She makes two peace signs with her hands, then entwines them together until the webbing of her fingers touch.

“Scissored? You two scissored?”

She goes bright red. “That’s nothing.”

“Go on.”

“I went down on her. As Jordan fucked me from behind.”

“Like she did for you, with me.”

“Yeah, only… only after, she turned around and we did a… sixty-nine? God, that was intense.”

“Intense good?”

“Intense amazing.” She let out an incredulous giggle. “I may be coming around in this whole bisexual thing.”

“So you spent the night exploring your bi side?”

“Oh, no. I spent most of the night getting turned inside out by Jordan. He never seemed to tire. When he wasn’t fucking me, he and Taylor were putting on a masterclass in sex.”

“Just like us ten years ago.”

Farah and I both laugh at the joke. “I always thought Taylor was a firecracker, you know, but when it comes to Jordan, she’s almost submissive. It was so interesting.”

“And you?”

“I definitely saw the merits in doing what he wanted.”

“I do, too.” I climb over her, guiding my cock to her wet sex. This time, I rub it along her slit first, rubbing the sensitive crown of my cock against her unfamiliarly smooth topography.

“Did he come inside of you?” I ask.

“Yeah.”

We sigh together as I enter her. “How many times?”

“Twice.” She rubs her fingers through my hair. “And twice in my mouth.” She kisses me. “And once in Taylor, then asked me to clean her up.”

I groan. If I hadn’t come just now, I would have again. “What else happened?”

“So much. Honestly so much is a blur. He told us to do things, and we did them. And… and it was amazing to give up control like that.”

I slow my fucking, lean down, and kiss her. “Next week is all about you. You get to call the shots. You get to be the center.”

She shivers at the prospect. Or maybe it’s my swelling dick. Until now, she was a supporting player in other people’s acts. She played them well, with passion and authenticity, but ultimately, they were not hers. Hers involves two men. I suddenly love the idea of her being at the center of us.

“Whatever you want.” I say. “No judgment. No shame. No boundaries.”

She sighs and stares up at me. “Are you absolutely sure?”

“Yes.”

I think so, I don’t add.

***

Has Farah's husband discovered a new kink? The ultimate test comes in their final threesome, where he'll see Jordan in action with Farah with his own eyes. Part 3 of Our Three Threesomes releases on Tuesday, April 23, 2024.