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My Turn

We have dabbled with gang bangs and foursomes. Don’t get me wrong, watching her submit to these men is an unspeakable thrill. Yet nothing compares to the taboo of solo encounters, the “cheating wife” fantasy, as we call it in the Lifestyle. I’ve always been cool with listening to Bea recap her naughty encounters while we make love, but I have never pursued any of my own. Well, this is the story of how that changed. Retirement suits me. At 6-foot-1, about 180 pounds, I still hit the gym and teach a weekly spin class packed with women of all ages. Some there to work off calories, others happy to flirt. Mirrors line the walls, giving me a full view of fit bodies peddling to whatever tunes I crank on the speakers: rock, to hip-hop, to salsa…and yes, I admit, I sometimes undress a few of them with my eyes. After class one morning, I was alone, fixing a wobbly saddle, when I spotted Sophia, a petite Latina, and one of my regulars, peeping through the window in the door at the back of the room. I chuckled and waved her in.

A little embarrassed at being caught snooping, she admitted in her saucy Mexican accent, “HaHa, just curious about what you do in here all by yourself.” Shrugging, I gestured to the broken bike in front of me and asked “Do you have a second? Hop on this saddle and tell me if I adjusted it correctly.” Before we continue, let me tell you about Sophia. She stands barely five-foot-four, a solid 120 pounds with fantastic C-cup titties. A sinuous snake tattoo coils around her torso that occasionally peeks out from beneath her conservative workout clothes, an unlikely contrast to her seemingly shy demeanor. Depending on what she’s wearing, I could glimpse where the serpent emerged from her waistband, its tail hidden within her thighs. Other times I could see where the head slipped into her sports bra to nuzzle her cleavage.

Though she positions herself at the edge of class, thinking she's out of view, the side mirror gives me the perfect vantage to admire this artwork. I often wondered about those sessions when that ink was applied, imagining this seemingly modest woman undressing to allow the artist access to her most intimate areas. Anyhow, she readily obliged my request and began to pedal. That day, she was rocking pink capri yoga pants that hid no secrets, but sadly a full tee shirt shrouded her torso. I stood behind her, ostensibly to check the seat, but could not help but admire her superb, round ass, rocking back and forth. The rear seam was still damp from our earlier workout. “So? How does it look?” she asked innocently after spinning for a while. I glanced up from her backside, to meet her eyes in the mirror at the front of the room. Grinning back at me, I realized she caught me checking her out, so I assured her, “Yep. Your seat is nice and tight, Sophia. Tip top shape.” Modestly, she giggled, “Well, gracias Ken. I guess spin class is paying off, huh?”

As she spun, we fell into easy conversation about schedules, the gym, bike maintenance. Next thing I knew, she offered, “My mornings are always free, you know. Could you use some help doing this?” I could certainly use the sexy company even if I didn’t really need the help, so naturally I accepted. I figured she’d show up once or twice before losing interest. But as the weeks went by, Sophia became my regular maintenance assistant—and was pretty handy too. We’d shoot the breeze while we worked, and once the ice was broken, I discovered she wasn’t really shy at all.

We discussed everything; politics, our kids, and even our spouses. She didn’t share the juicy details, but she hinted to some pretty racy pillow talk whenever Luis got lucky the night before, the frequency of which increased, coincidentally, the closer she and I became. It was those days that she always seemed a little…friskier than usual.

It was never necessary for what we were doing, but we often found ourselves close, in each other’s space, our bodies touching. The chance brushes with her tight figure were, let’s say, invigorating. She’d tease me with clever innuendos about “swapping” a chain or “lubing” the gears. Needless to say, I went home as hard as a rock. Good thing my wife was always ready and willing to relieve that tension for me. Like I said, Bea had partaken in her fair share of carnal liaisons, so when I first told her of my interest in Sophia, she was intrigued. I think she even visited the gym a time or two to scope out “the competition.”

My budding interest in Sophia brought a fresh twist to our stag-vixen relationship and seemed to ignite a primal impulse for my wife to mark her territory. Bea totally approved of my pursuit—but not without claiming what she called her “wife tax.”

With my cock buried deep, her voice husky, she would interrogate me for particulars of how I planned to seduce this spicy Latina. Nothing had even happened yet, but the dirtier the details, the more intense her response. Goosebumps appeared around her hard nipples as I described the encounters I imagined. Who would have guessed, that chasing another woman would so stoke my own hotwife’s fire?

Anyway, I took Bea's blessing as license to test Sophia's boundaries. Nothing aggressive, but enough to gauge her reaction. I’d slip a hand to her hip, linger with a shoulder rub that turned into a massage. Instead of slapping me, like other women might, Sophia’s lips simply curled to a knowing smile. She figured out how much I liked to see her body art and encouraged me by revealing more skin during spin class.

I couldn’t figure out what was going on in her head, because we talked about everything except what was actually happening between us. Class after class, our little game escalated, both of us nudging closer to some undefined line. We were definitely heading in the right direction, but I had to be patient; I didn’t want to overplay my hand. After weeks of this subtle build up, it was Sophia who finally broached the topic. We had long since dropped the façade of fixing bikes. I was sitting on the instructor’s platform, with her on the floor between my feet. My fingers worked her neck and shoulders while we watched each other in the mirror across the room. Today, her gaze was more intent than usual.

Normally, our conversations were lively and open, but that day, she was hesitant, even nervous. She obviously wanted to say something difficult but was struggling with how to phrase it. I was fully prepared for her to put a stop to all this craziness. Instead, she drew a deep breath and blurted out, “Do you ever want to see Bea with another man? Like, watch her, you know? Have sex?”

Wow, THAT was not what I expected. Caught flatfooted, I stammered, “Sure, I’ve thought of that.” Unconsciously, increasing the pressure on her shoulders, I added, “I think a lot of guys do.” Not fully believing me, but seemingly relieved it was a real thing, she asked, “Really? Men think like that about their wives?” Trying to act chill, I answered, “Sure. There are websites for that sort of thing". Calming my voice, I asked, “So, what sparked that question?” She confessed, “I don’t know …I mean …we’ve been married for, like, 20 years. But for a while now, while we make love, Luis has been asking me to do it. He wants to see me, with another man.”

By now, I could not hide my obvious interest, and followed up, “Does he know what he’s getting into?” She smirked, “I don’t know. I assume he does. Maybe he is on one of those websites you told me about?” Then she pivoted the question to me. “What about you? Would you ever actually let Bea do another man?”

This conversation had unexpectedly veered to where I only fantasized it might, so I took a chance. I leaned down and pressed my lips against the soft skin at the back of her neck—something I hadn't dared before. Her breath caught, but she didn’t pull away. In fact, she placed her hand over mine on her shoulder.

"Actually," I said, my voice low near her ear, "I don't just think about it. I've watched Bea with other men." Sophia's expression transformed instantly. Her eyes widened, an inquisitive leer spread across her face as she twisted to look at me. "What!? And you... liked it? I mean watching her?”

I recounted how it had evolved for us. Bea's encounters, our paramount rule, her selection process. How my initial jealousy give way to arousal, watching young men bang my woman. I felt myself hardening against Sophia's back. She leaned into me, her body responding to the pressure. Finally, I revealed Bea had specifically blessed me to pursue…HER.

Five minutes earlier, I’m sure she never anticipated that revelation, but she assertively guided my hands to her breasts. We'd had fleeting contact before, but this time it was deliberate, with full consent. Her head tilted back, eyes now closed, she pressed her lips against mine. They trembled, betraying her nervousness at the line we'd just crossed. Then she broke away, breathing heavily.

"Last night…Luis asked me to fantasize," she whispered, "about another man in our bed. I described everything I'd do with him." She swallowed hard. "I was picturing you the whole time.” We kissed harder, confidently this time.

"When I decided to tell you all this, I didn’t think it would go this far; at least not today,” she conceded. I could see the flurry of decisions and emotions swimming through her mind as she spoke to me.

“I know Luis wanted to watch, but…I don’t know if I could let him see me do…this.” She murmured, slipping the straps of her sports bra off her shoulders. I firmly cupped her smooth breasts, thumbs circling stiff nipples, the viper’s fanged mouth glared up at me.

She turned to face me, bare from the waist up, and wrapped her arms around my neck. Dismissing who might walk into the room at any minute, I impulsively began to peel the snug yoga pants off her hips and down her thighs, baring her ass to admire in the mirror behind her.

This morning, I had no idea this would be the day I would undress Sophia, with my hands, not only my eyes. But I wasn’t going to let the chance pass. The serpent appeared from under the fabric I was removing, its path no longer a mystery. When my fingers found their way to the furry velvet between her thighs, she relaxed to part them slightly. Her breath catching as she whispered against my mouth, "I want you, Ken."

With an anxious exhale, Sophia abruptly broke our kiss. "My place." She whispered, eyes darting to the door. "Luis won't be home for hours, and the kids are at school."

I eased her yoga pants back up and answered, “Lead the way.” She punched my number into her phone and sent the address. “Meet me here…but park away from the house…wait until I call you. The neighbors can’t see you follow me in. OK?”

Then, before covering herself, she gave me one last peck on the lips, assuring herself, and me, this was, in fact, going to happen. Hastily, she stood to adjust her clothing, hiding the artwork I had just begun to explore. I waited a minute or so to follow her to the parking lot, my groin pulsing with anticipation. Ten minutes later, I arrived in time to see the garage door closing behind her car. Driving past, I circled the block before parking around the corner. Impatient, I stroked myself through my shorts while I waited for her call. After what seemed like an eternity, a text buzzed: “CUM TO ME!” I slid from the car, scanned for prying eyes, and with all the composure I could muster, walked to her door. When I approached, the doorbell speaker crackled, “I’m ready.” I heard the lock click and then a red light blinked to record my entry as I turned the handle to step in. The living room was small with a white sectional sofa facing away from me, Sophia’s gym clothes were folded neatly over the back. Silently I lamented, “Damn. I wanted to unwrap her myself.”

My quarry lounged on the other side, just the back of her head visible. I could hear shallow, impassioned breathing. “I’m over here!” she called. Peeking over the back, I found her in the corner section, legs perched on the edge, her fingers lasciviously stroking between them.

She tilted her head back with a languid smile. "I was starting to think you'd changed your mind. Get over here!" I circled the couch to take in the full sight of her nude figure. She caught her bottom lip between her teeth, then slowly parted her knees to offer herself. Her caramel skin glowed. Faint tan lines hinted to where her bikini normally covered full breasts and dark nipples. The viper emerged from the opening where her fingers played, its scaled length coiling around her waist before slithering upward between her breasts, its head poised with fangs bared. Taunting me, her fingers uncovered her soaking wet kitty. I kicked off my shoes and tugged my tee shirt over my head. My rock-hard cock caught in the waist band as I dropped my shorts to the floor. She sat up promptly to lick a droplet of pre-cum from the head before taking me fully into her mouth. One hand grasped my balls as she stared up into my eyes and lavished my shaft. She let her teeth graze the swollen head while she sucked. Despite the warmth of her hands and tongue, I shivered with exhilaration. Sensing my urge to erupt down her throat, she released me, and sunk back into the cushions, irresistibly parting her glistening lips with skilled fingers. She did not shave herself smooth as many women do. I dropped to devour the delicate ring of natural hair around her slit. Her salty tang was delicious. With each brush of my tongue, she gasped, arching her hips to provide access to the viper’s mysterious den within her pussy. Her arousal had been mounting since we began at the gym, and with a squeal, she squirted in my face, pulling me tight into her drenched pubes, thighs quivering. Time was short, and I wanted to fuck her so bad. Grasping her knees, I yanked her to the edge. Poised to penetrate, I looked down into her dark, previously smiling, brown eyes, to discover tears. Surprised, I paused, the head of my engorged penis hovering above the serpent’s body. Peering up, she murmured, ‘Oh, I’m okay.” It’s just…cumming with another man, I was…I was overwhelmed. You are only the second man ever to…”

She didn't finish, instead widening her thighs, inviting me in. “Go ahead. Take what you want, lover,” she pleaded, pulling her knees up, compelling me to slip inside. I did, but not gently. I was balls deep on the first lunge. “That’s it,” she cooed, eyes closed, “THAT’S what I wanted! Fuck me, Ken!” she hissed.

Her body welcomed me differently than Bea's; tighter, despite her arousal, yielding yet gripping. We found our rhythm, her gasps punctuating each movement. Between thrusts, we'd pause to kiss, prolonging the moment. Experiencing this new woman was enthralling—how she felt around me, the texture of her skin against mine, the weight of her breasts in my hands. The tickle of her coarse pubic hair against my chin. Most captivating was her exotic voice, slipping between languages as passion overtook her; soft Spanglish phrases I couldn't translate but understood perfectly. Imploring to be fucked harder. Lost in our illicit coupling, neither of us noticed the garage door's mechanical hum.

The creak of footsteps on the wood floor drew my attention to a vaguely familiar man entering the room, his expression, a mixture of curiosity and amusement. Luis.

I froze and withdrew from Sophia’s vagina. Oblivious to her husband’s presence, she chided, "Don't stop," her fingers seeking to guide me back in. I braced for confrontation, but instead, he pressed an index finger to his lips in a ‘shush’ gesture, wordlessly encouraging me to continue screwing his wife. Luis's sudden arrival unnerved me, yet it transported me back to my own living room, where I'd once stood witnessing my own hotwife submit to her young stud. Her sensuous strip tease. Lingerie dropping to the floor. The provocative look in her eyes as she glanced from him to me, then impudently guided his big black cock, inch by inch, into her. How he relentlessly pounded her, exactly how I was giving it to Sophia at this moment. Memories of my own experience evaporated as I plunged back into another man’s wife, her breasts heaving with each thrust of my hips. From the corner of my eye, I noticed Luis silently undress and position himself at the edge of the sofa, transfixed by the spectacle he'd instigated. He stared, unblinking, at the precise point where I entered his wife. He had prodded her to do this, but I don’t think he was prepared for the raw vision of his wife, imploring a stranger—me—to pound deeper, faster, HARDER, because she wanted to cum again. I leaned forward to kiss her, hoping to distract her from Luis's approach. Softly, she shuddered, sucking air through clenched teeth, and I could not hold back any longer. Just when I groaned to inseminate his bride, Luis appeared between us to clasp her breasts and kiss her gasping mouth.

Sophia’s eyes flew open, utterly stunned by his sudden intrusion. “LUIS? MI AMOR!” She cried out, the shock lifted her orgasm to an explosive new crescendo. Trapped between two ravenous men, her pussy convulsed around my shaft, while she frantically pulled her husband’s kiss deeper. To make way for Luis, I pulled out of Sophia, leaving a trail of semen on the cushions.

In the next wild moment, Luis took command, flipping her, shoving her face-down. With one fluid motion, he entered her from behind, reclaiming what was his. His climax followed quickly, adding another load to his wife’s filled cunt. Then, he rolled her onto her back and dove between her legs, licking our mingled fluids before sharing it with her in a passionate kiss that she eagerly excepted down her throat.

Breathless, but still awash with shocked exhilaration, Sophia sprawled into the sofa cushions between Luis and me, her hands absently stroking both of us. Her used vagina glistened with two men’s jizz. Bewildered, she asked, “What are you doing here? Luis, you’re supposed to be at work.”

He responded with a devious smile, “Except when a stranger arrives on my front porch, and mi vieja says she’s ready for him.” Gradually comprehending, Sophia recalled her invitation to me, “The doorbell cam?” Luis nodded, holding up his cell phone, “I almost lost it when I got that alert. Gracias, por este regalo mi amor” (Thank you for this gift, my love).

Sophia leaned over and audaciously sucked the remnants of her essence off my cock before answering her husband, “De nada, mi amor.” Then, she swung her leg over to straddle Luis cowgirl style…or rather, vaquera style. Our cum squeezed out, drenching her shimmering pubic hair as she rode him, magnificent tits hovering above his face. Now, she would pay her own, “husband tax,” and if they had the same arrangement as Bea and me, she also had an extraordinary story to tell.

At that point, I faded into the background, entirely consumed as a voyeur to this exhibition of raw, unbridled debauchery. My mind turned to compose the story I would soon recall for my own vixen.

We hope you enjoyed our story. Valpcupl