Free Erotic Stories

The House Guest, by W Divinity Gore

On the positive side, we almost never fight. Over the twelve years of our marriage, we've probably only had maybe three or four fights. One was while on a vacation to Las Vegas. One was during a visit from his parents. The other couple arguments were about things now so trivial that I couldn't even tell you what they were. On the negative side, we almost never fight. That means, of course, that we're not very good at it, either the fighting itself or the making up afterwards. Couples who fight as a matter of course tend to do both of these things quite well simply out of practice. Or at least, that's what I've been told. They know how to draw boundaries during the argument such that recovery and redemption are still possible. They understand that any given disagreement is a temporary ripple, not the end of the world, and surely not the end of the marriage. And they typically brag about their feverish carnal reunions in the aftermath of their latest knockdown, drag-out brawl. Mostly we're simply happy as banal as that sounds. Mostly we're the couple that other couples envy. They say, "You guys are just so perfectly matched." And I've always thought that they were right. We met in our senior year in college and probably within a month or six weeks we both knew that it was inevitable that we'd be married and live happily ever after. I can't say that it's the most romantic of stories, though Todd can play the part of the romantic on occasion, and not every day since then has been a fairy tale, but we're basically happy, basically stable, basically your regular couple in a regular neighborhood pursuing regular careers. But then, Carl showed up. Carl was Todd's college roommate. He was, in those years, always the life of the party. He was, indeed, a walking embodiment of a party. Seemingly, wherever Carl went on a Friday or Saturday night (or sometimes a Wednesday or Thursday night) a party would form around him. He'd been the best man at our wedding and he'd made the reception an event about which both sides of the family still tell stories. But recently, he'd fallen on hard times. He'd lost his job and his latest in a long line of girlfriends had booted him out of her life. So, he showed up, forlorn, bedraggled, and homeless, on our doorstep. Of course we took him in. What are old friends for, after all? We set him up in the basement, on the pull-out sofa and down there he had a refrigerator, a television, and even a small bathroom, though without a shower. He very nearly had his own apartment. It wasn't bad set up. Not bad at all. Too good in fact. So good that, a month later, he was still there. That was the subject of our fight. "When exactly is he leaving, Todd?" I said into the dark space across the pillows. "I don't know. When he gets back up on his feet, Judy." "Which will be when?" "I don't know. Do you want me to throw him out into the snow?" "It's June for goodness sake. Don't be melodramatic. He doesn't have any motivation to leave. For all I know, he'll stay here forever." "Now who's exaggerating," he said. "He's been looking for a job." "You know this, right, because he told you so?" "Yes." "Great," I said, "I want him out." "I can't do that. I told you that and I don't want to talk about it any more." Todd rolled over and pretended to fall asleep. Why was I so adamant? The reason wasn't obvious, even to me at the time. It probably started during the very first week Carl was in the house. It was a Saturday and Todd had left the house early to play golf. I'd walked into the bathroom, truly half-asleep, absentmindedly forgetting that the house was not otherwise empty. I'd just sat down on the toilet when Carl stepped out of the shower. Despite the years of parties, he was undeniably in good shape and I found myself in silence gawking at his backside as he grabbed a towel and began to dry himself. I was still staring when he turned around. "Well, hello," he said. I am sure that I blushed from my toes to the top of my head as I quickly tore my eyes from his meaty cock and balls. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize," I mumbled. "That's okay," he said. I expected him to wrap the towel around himself or to turn away or something, but he just stood there patting his chest with the towel. Out of the corner of my vision as I averted my eyes I couldn't help but remain focused on how he just stood there, hanging free and unashamed. Quickly, I leapt off the toilet, pulled up my floppy pajamas as gracefully as I could and scooted out of the bathroom. So, that was the first time. The next time was the next week when I was in the basement doing laundry in the small partitioned area off from where Carl was living. Todd was working late (again). I'd been in the laundry room for at least thirty minutes separating clothes and doing some ironing before I came out to find Carl in the basement as well. The television was on. Because of the squealing sound of our ancient dryer I hadn't heard Carl or the television and it took me a moment realize that on the screen was a woman getting fucked from behind by one man while another rammed his fat dick down her throat. Carl was sprawled on the sofa, his pants down around his knees, and stroking his hard cock in his hand. I was at once appalled and entranced by the scene. I watched for what seemed like several minutes dividing my attention to the moaning clash of flesh on the screen and Carl's movements across the heft and of his stiff cock. Then I realized that he was watching me watch him. He closed his eyes and from under his hand erupted a fountain of cum, five or six heavy liquid squirts that hung in the air and fell back into his lap. While his eyes were still closed, I quickly made my way to the stairs and escaped the scene. The third encounter of the disturbing sort like this happened just a couple of days before the initiation of the argument with Todd. I was in the kitchen at the sink washing out a casserole dish from the evening before. I was looking out the window over the sink and in the side yard Todd was cutting the grass when Carl appeared at the top of the basement stairs at the edge of the kitchen wearing nothing but white briefs. After glancing momentarily, I went back to my task not wishing to encourage him despite the fact that the image of the bulge in his underwear was a distraction stuck in my head. It must have been that distraction, then, that allowed him to come up behind me without my recognizing his movements. Suddenly, he was there. I felt the bulge of his briefs against my ass. His hand slid from my hips, up along my waist, and then under my breasts. Almost immediately, my nipples got hard and just as quickly he found them and encouraged their swollen state. Outside, Todd, my husband, walked back and forth with the mower, while here in the kitchen his best friend was rubbing his cock into an erection against my jeans. I would like to say that I pushed him off and immediately freed myself from his grasp. I would like to say that, but it would be a lie. Just as his body was expressing its excitement through his stiffness, my body was responding as well. I was growing warm and moist between my legs. My thighs went a bit weak and tingly as I found myself press my hips backwards against his rolling, stroking crotch. He then moved his right hand from my breast, down my stomach, and into the front of my jeans. His fingers were just beyond the elastic band of my panties when the lawnmower outside stopped. The sudden quiet was deafening and I jumped up and away from Carl with a spin, dropping the casserole dish with a bounce and clang against the stainless steel sink. Carl swaggered back down the basement stairs, quite proud of himself I am sure. It was soon after that third incident that the argument began. I told Todd that I wanted Carl out of the house. Todd pressed me for why, but I couldn't tell him. How could I? How could I tell him that his best friend, a guy that he'd known for years and years, the best man at our wedding, was hitting on me with increasingly overt and reckless abandon? Hitting on me was not even the right expression. I mean, it's not as if it was casual and suggestive flirt. That would have crushed Todd. What's worse, how could I tell him that more and more, I wanted it to happen again, that I couldn't get the thought of Carl naked and wet from his shower out of my head? How could I tell him that I imagined myself there in his lap catching his gushing cum in my mouth as he jerked off to his porn flick? I could I tell him that my secret regret from the incident in the kitchen was the fact that I was wearing jeans and not a short skirt that would have facilitated bringing that encounter to sexual completion? I couldn't. I couldn't do any of those things so I got angry. I raged against Todd's insistence that I was overreacting. I stormed and vented about privacy, about personal responsibility, about Todd apparently caring more about his friend than about his wife. It went on for several miserable days because, as I said, we do not know how to fight very well. Truly, this was the worst argument of our marriage. And, of course, the truth of the matter was that I was most angry with myself, at my suppressed carnal desire for the sexuality of man other than my husband. Finally, our argument reached a head one late night in our bedroom. I told Todd that he had to make a choice between Carl and me. I told him that I was going to leave unless Todd kicked Carl out into the street. Now. I had even convinced myself that I was ready to leave my house and my husband, and it was probably because I had already accepted this possibility as being very real that, when pressed again by Todd for rationale, with almost angry cruelty, I told him about the three lurid encounters with Carl. Todd sat on the bed and listened in silence as I recounted with relish the graphic details of each one, down even to the admission of my excitement in the kitchen. When I was finished, the room hung heavy with nothing but our breathing. "So," said Todd slowly, "tell me again what you felt seeing Carl standing there naked in the bathroom." "I told you." "No, tell me what you really felt. Don't tell me what you think I want to hear. Tell me the truth." I had already crossed the line, so I had nothing to lose. I went further. "Fine. I liked it. I was embarrassed, but I liked it. I liked his body. I liked his big, thick cock just hanging there in front of me like that." "Did you want to touch it?" he asked. "Yes. I wanted to touch it. To tell the absolute truth, what I really wanted to do was get down on my knees in front of him and put that thing in my mouth and feel it get hard." I heard myself saying this and in the back of my mind I thought two things. First, I knew that what I said was surprisingly honest. Second, I was sure that this point marked the end of our marriage. It was a moment about which I would be ashamed for the rest of my life, one that I would never share with anyone else, and here it was. Todd stood up from the edge of the bed. As I said, we do not argue often. We have never wholly defined the boundaries, never gone so far to understand where the fatal boundaries might exist. So, never in all our years together had Todd ever once even shown a hint towards violence, and yet as he stood and as he came towards me, the irrational, fleeting thought passed through my head that I was about to get hit. Todd had an odd, intense look on his face as he approached. He threw an arm around my shoulders and his other went to my lower back as he pressed his lips against mine and his tongue filled my mouth. When I realized what was happening, I realized also that his hard-on was solid between us and that I too was aroused. The retelling of my episodes with Carl, the sordid details that I'd made sure to include so as to be as graphic and as complete and as convincing as I could be had made me relive each of the occurrences. Of course, I was already well practiced in getting aroused to the telling of those stories. I had retold them to myself, in slow-motion detail for weeks. Each one, told in a calm voice in my own head almost like a newscaster breaking down the angles of a complex situation, had animated one or more sessions of masturbation. This too was something new. While I am not a prude with regards to masturbation, and I'd certainly taken care of business on my own over the years a number of times, never before in my life had it felt like a physical imperative, a need to be fulfilled like hunger or thirst. I would find myself growing warm in my crotch. I'd find my fingers had idly and unconsciously probed the heightening sensitivity. With surprise I would find myself in need of an orgasm to relieve the distraction that would not otherwise stop leading my mind astray. Upon making the decision to find a quiet place to finish, the bedroom or the bathroom mostly – though once it was in the attic where nominally I'd been looking for stemware glasses that were a long-forgotten gift from Todd's aunt in Elmira – upon making that decision I would also decide to think only of Todd. Sure, I was doing something a little naughty, but I would still play the part of the good wife and think only of my husband, a man who truly is handsome, with clear, sharp eyes, and is undeniably sexy to me, even after all these years together. So that's where I would start, with some sensual or romantic scene, some actual or imagine situation, where I was going to make love to my husband. Between my two fingers my clit would glide back and forth, swelling and pulsing with beat of my heart. Sometimes as the strokes grow long and insistent, my middle finger slips into my pussy and tickles the wet walls. Yet, as the rhythm increased, as my hand and my heart and my clit sped up and claimed ownership of the activity beyond whatever control I thought I had, the images of Carl, his heavy hanging prick and balls, his fierce and voluminous ejaculation, his hand caressing my hard nipples, took center stage in my sexual fantasy and hurtled it forwards to a shivering orgasm. That was all part of the reason that I was sure that Carl had to leave the house. With him gone, with the memory of these things fading, I was sure that I could regain the more controlled, more confined and constrained sexual existence that I'd had before. I wanted him gone because I couldn't handle the guilt that I was applying to myself in generous, stiff layers like shellac, to the point where I could hardly breathe for fear the natural rhythms of my body were themselves the treasonous culprits. So, it should not have surprised me at all that, in telling Todd about the three sexually charged episodes with Carl, I would manage to arouse myself. It was a rehearsed bit of self-induced, self-indulgent foreplay. With that state of arousal already engaged, the sensation of Todd's mouth on my mouth, his hand now cupping my breast, his hard dick jabbing through his pants and against my abdomen, all of this combined made me want, more than ever before in my life, his body inside mine. I pushed him away enough to speak. "I need you inside of me." Previous times in our married life I'd tried the whole dirty-talk thing, but usually felt too silly to be serious. This time, though, I wasn't mimicking something that I thought I should say. Todd heard and saw the sincerity of my utterance and my need. He turned me around and I undid the button fly of my jeans. He pulled my jeans down to my knees and then my soaked-through panties. He pushed me forward and I put my hands on his dresser. Then, his own pants fallen to his ankles, he pushed his cock into me. It was like puncturing a balloon as my pussy immediately began to spasm around the shaft he slammed into me again and again. He was rough, forceful, and my body greedily consumed his energy. I cannot say if I came once for a long, continuous time or if was several separate events. It didn't matter. All I knew was that when, with a final, forceful series of thrusts that shook the dresser against the wall and nearly picked my feet off the ground, my entire body was shaky and spent. Sheepishly, we both fell into bed, perhaps stunned by what had happened and definitely emptied momentarily of sexual motivation. But twice more through the night we found each other across the bed and slammed our bodies together with reckless abandon. The next day was like a silent, unspoken truce between us, Todd and me. It was a normal workday and through the morning routine we said nothing of the night before. I was exhausted at work, but was undoubtedly glowing. Gloria, a coworker, even commented on the oddity of my slightly dazed but happy expression. It wasn't until the next evening, again in the bedroom, that the subject was approachable. "What was that last night?" I asked. "I don't know," he said. "I haven't fucked like that since, well, ever." I didn't even mind the vulgarity of the expression, something that usually bugged me, since truly it seemed to fit far better than any euphemism such as making love. We'd fucked. We'd fucked like animals, like we'd never done before. Ever. "The thought of you getting all turned on by Carl's dick. I don't know. It was like you were somebody else." "Somebody else?" "No, not exactly. It was like you were more yourself. More sexual. Like you would be if you were just expressing yourself more honestly about lust," he said shaking his head slowly with the difficulty of explaining it. "Yeah. I kind of felt like somebody else," I said. "This is going to sound terrible, but it was like I was more than just 'a wife.' You know what I mean?" "Yeah, that's it. No, that's not terrible. You were something more to me then. It was like a whole different side of you, and I was so turned on by it. Man, it was like," his hands motioned in the air before him as though trying to grasp the concept physically in order to find the words. "It was like, like, fucking you for the first time. The excitement and pure drive of it. Does that sound wrong?" Did it? Did it sound wrong to me? No. I shook my head. "I mean, every day I see you and you're beautiful. I've always thought that you were beautiful and it's not something that I take for granted. Really. But last night you were even more so just because you were like this free sexual being and I couldn't wait to get inside of you." I kissed him. Then we made love, slowly, passionately. I caressed his penis in my mouth and fondled his balls as though I was worshipping his anatomy and he did the same for me, bringing me to a long wet orgasm before finally consummating our passion with a gentle and generous session of copulation. My senses were more keenly attuned to every aspect of the act than they'd been for years. It was like being newlyweds again and discovering the patterns of each other's bodies. This continued for another couple of weeks. We would talk of my fantasies with another man, sometimes Carl, sometimes some guy I'd seen at the grocery store that afternoon and had noted the curve of his ass or the bulge of his pants. Other times, it would just be the two of us alone again and appreciating the gifts we brought to each other. In the meantime, Carl continued on living in the basement. It was during this period of newfound marital passion that the next incident with Carl happened. Todd was working extra hours putting together a big proposal for the company. For several consecutive Sunday afternoons, he would stop in at the office and put in a few hours to catch up on everything else that had piled up on his desk over the course of the week. Sunday afternoons were also a typical time for Carl to be out of the house. He had a friend with a boat on the lake and he'd taken to meeting up with his buddy, sit in the sun, and drink beer. This Sunday, though, it was raining. I was curled up on the couch in the living room reading a book and listening to the quiet sound of the rain on the windows. Carl came into the room and plopped down in the recliner. "Do you mind if I put on the game?" "Is the television downstairs broken?" I asked and then immediately realized that it was a rather rude thing to say. He didn't seem to notice. "No. I was just a bit lonely down there." He took a swig from the can of beer in his hand and picked up the television remote control. "No, that's fine," I said despite the fact that I'd been enjoying my book. "It's a shame that the weather wasn't good enough today for you to go out to Ted's boat." "Yeah, but it's probably best. Hanging out on the water like that, man, you can get some sunburn." He took another drink from his beer. His eyes remained on the baseball game while he talked. "I've seen that. A couple of times when you've come back here I've seen how red your cheeks and neck and ears were. Looked painful." Carl was a former redhead with sandy brown hair, lighter skin, and on his arms and legs, the faintest subdued hints of childhood freckles. "Well, that's nothing. Last week Teddy and I got so drunk we decided to erase our tan lines." "Excuse me?" Carl finally pulled his attention from the game. "I don't what the hell was going through our heads. I was bitching about the sunburns I was getting, even with the stupid sun block, and he started saying how his wife told him that he looked ridiculous with his tan lines." He chuckled. "So, we come to the brilliant decision that the only possible solution was to even out our tans." "You didn't." "Yes," he said, "we did. We stripped down and laid out there in the middle of the lake buck naked on the two lounges he has set up on his deck. You should have seen us." "You're lucky that you didn't get arrested," I said, though I was distracted by my attempt to visualize the scene. "We damn near did. The Lake Patrol boat came along eventually and, I guess, thank God, it was a woman cop cause she was just laughing her ass off. I couldn't figure it out until I looked over at Teddy and he's lying there on his stomach and he's got one of those pink paper cocktail umbrellas stuck in his ass crack. She let us go with a warning." "Well, I guess that you guys finally found a use for those little umbrellas, huh?" Carl chuckled. "Yeah, but even if I'd had one too I still probably would have gotten this burn. Man, you should have seen how red my ass was. It hurt to sit down for a couple of days." "Is it still bad?" I asked. It was, on the one hand, an innocent question, a show of concern for a friend's well being. On the other hand, I also knew how Carl might respond. He wasn't someone who needed much encouragement. He kicked in the foot rest on the recliner, stood up, and put his beer on the coffee table, right over the face of the secretary of defense glaring out from the cover of a news magazine. Carl put his hands on his hips and pushed down to his knees the loose shorts he was wearing. Other than his T-shirt, the shorts were the only thing that he was wearing. His ass was indeed red, though not glaringly so, not the kind of crimson that would naturally make you wince in sympathy. "See," he said looking down and twisting as though trying to look at himself from behind, "it's not so bad any more." As he stood that way, twisted around with the leg closest to me bent while the other was straight, his flaccid dick jutted out from his body in an exaggerated hanging curve. "No," I said, "not so bad at all." He saw that my eyes were not at all focused on ass, though I had of course, also spent a moment or two appreciating the robust curve of it as well. He cupped his balls and cock as though putting them on a shelf. "The boys didn't get quite as much sun. They look okay, huh?" "Yes, they look fine," I said. I felt a tingle of heat between my legs. "Did you want to take a closer look for yourself?" The answer was yes, but that's not what I said. "No, I can see just fine. Thank you though." "Well, even if I don't come any closer, it might help if it was stretched out a bit." He began tugging on the end of his dick, pulling it outward with several quick jerks. Then he began stroking it while never taking his eyes off of me. If I'd been standing on a stage in front of a hundred thousand people with the spotlight engulfing me in its glare, I don't think that I would have felt more on the spot. I was embarrassed but undeniably aroused. I wasn't sure where to look, at his eyes or at his member that was swelling under the attention of his hand. I looked away briefly towards the dining room to clear my head, to try to think rationally again, but my eyes were drawn back to the scene before me. Over the previous couple of weeks Todd and I had contrived erotic scenes involving Carl, expanding upon the three previous encounters, and I'd told Todd all the things that I'd want to do. With the complete sincerity of an erotically charged moment I'd told Todd how good Carl's dick would feel in my mouth, how I wanted his balls in my hands as the head of his cock pushed against the back of my throat, how I'd bend over and beg him to slip it into my spread-open and dripping pussy. I said all these things, and I meant them, fantasized about them, brought myself to orgasm while grasping the finest details of imagined smell and taste and sound and tactile impression. And yet here I was, confronting the very real possibility of turning fantasy into reality and I was frozen in place, unable to either encourage or discourage what was before me. That was all fantasy, all that dirty talk with Todd between the sheets, and yet even for that verbal arousal, even for the sessions of masturbation alone, even for just that I was suffering from a burden of guilt. I couldn't help it. What I wanted was wrong, I heard a tiny voice in my head insisting, no matter how much you want it, no matter if Todd is turned on by you talking about it, no matter if somehow over the last couple of weeks the mere presence of it as a fantasy had rekindled the physical and erotic side of my marriage. But there was an even louder voice, the one directly connected to the communication between my eyes and my wet and swelling pussy that overrode that tiny voice at the moment. Without even realizing what I was doing, I found my hand pushed into my shorts and the tip of my finger prodding my tingling clit. "Take them off. It'll be easier," he said. I did it. I surprised myself with the decisiveness of my action. I kicked off my shorts and panties and lay back on the couch. The only concession I made to my anxiety, was to lay sideways along the length of the couch rather than aiming my pussy directly at him on the other side of the coffee table. I'm not sure that it mattered. With him standing over me regardless of which way I turned, he had a clear vision of my crotch and my ministrations. It had been a long, long time since any man other than Todd had sbeen me naked and that thought, sudden and fresh, only served to amplify my arousal. "Oh my God," he said with his hand moving faster along the length of his engorged cock, "you're gorgeous." He came not long after that, sending arcs of sloppy white semen through the air, seemingly willing them forward with sharp squeezes of his hand. I came almost immediately after he finished. My whole body shuddered against my hand, against the image of that for which my fingers were but a substitute, which was the hard, thick shaft of Carl's cock buried deep within me, filling me with his load. When Todd got home, I practically tackled him at the door. I had my first orgasm almost immediately after I shoved his head between my legs. I came again as he fucked me missionary style with reckless energy. There was nobody else in the room, either literally or figuratively. I wasn't mulling over the earlier scenario or wishing that the dick inside me belonged to Carl or anybody else. But I was elevated to a higher plain of excitement, to a point of heightened focus on our two hot bodies slamming together. When I came the second time, I felt my entire pelvic area convulse and throb. From somewhere deep within my lungs came a guttural moan in a voice I barely recognized as my own, as though my body were entirely taken over the act of climax. Todd uttered, "Holy shit," and he too reached climax with a final barrage of thrusts against my quivering body. "My God, what was that," he said as we lay side by side and tried to catch our breaths. "That," I said, gasping for air and clearing my throat, "that was something. Something else for sure." "Do you mind my asking what inspired that?" He had to drag it out of me. He had to pull each detail out with particular questions about what happened next, and after that, and then who said what, and how did you feel when that happened? I was ashamed. I couldn't get past the guilt I'd felt to simply lay it all out without prodding. As I explained it, as he squeezed it out of me, each tiny addition sounded to me like its own separate indictment of my actions. I couldn't escape the feeling that I'd cheated on Todd. But when I'd finished, I looked up to see that his dick was hard again. I knelt before him as he sat on the edge of the bed, his legs spread to let me in between as his balls hung down soft and ripe. I licked off of him the essence of myself and sucked out of him the remnants of his cum. I petted his scrotum and pulled each ball up to meet my lips. I then pulled him as far into my throat as I could take, feeling the swell of the head of his cock throbbing against the back of my throat. I was just backing off from this when I felt his hips thrust, first once, then again in rapid succession with the second one more abrupt and held as he filled my mouth with his cum. "Oh, Jesus," he said a couple of minutes later. "I can't believe I even had that in me. You've sucked me completely dry." "Was it my story about Carl?" "Yes." "You're not upset with me?" "Did you lie to me?" he asked. "No, I didn't lie." That was such a harsh word, "lie." I immediately became defensive and suspicious of where this line of questions was going. "So, you were sincere when you told me how turned on you were?" "Yes, completely." "Then," he said, "that was what turned me on. The thought of you being that aroused, that openly and honestly, well, sexual. Man, that just puts me over the edge." "Even though I was aroused by another man?" "Are you going to leave me?" "No." Again, the instinct towards defensiveness kicked in. " Do you love Carl?" "No, I love you," I said. "I know you do. I believe that completely. That's why I'm not jealous," he said. "If I thought that he was somehow stealing your heart, I'd probably kill the lazy bastard." We laid there for short while across the bed in silence. My mind started wondering towards what I would be making for dinner that evening. With all the sexual energy spent this day, I was starting to get hungry. "Do you think that you'd like to fuck him?" Todd asked. "Who?" I asked, not because I was truly confused, but just to stall for time as my mind reeled at the litany of possible answers and responses. "The fat mailman, Joe," he answered with obvious sarcasm. "Carl, of course. Do you think that you'd like to fuck him for real? Don't give me the intellectual answer. Tell me your visceral or sexual response." Still I hesitated for a moment. "Okay," I said, "then yes. Yes, just purely sexually speaking, I'd like to fuck him." Probably sensing that I had more to say to cushion that blunt response, Todd spoke quickly in response. "Then, I would like to see you fuck him." The words hung in the room. "Are you serious?" I asked. "Yes. Yes, I am. Are you okay with that?" "Am I okay with you wanting me to fuck him? Or am I okay with actually fucking him?" "Yes," he said, "both." "I will have to think about that one. And you want to watch?" "And probably join in, if that's all right with you." "Join in?" "Yeah. Haven't you ever fantasized about doing two guys at once?" I hadn't, to be completely honest, but immediately the thought of it, the graphic, lurid mechanics of it in different variations and combinations filled my head. "Well, that could be exciting." "Just something to consider," he said. And I did consider it, over and over during the next several days, to the point where my considerations just about became a point of continual background distraction. If I hadn't ever seriously contemplated it before, I now made up for lost time. Yes, that was what I wanted. The physical passion and energy of two men, two male bodies, four hands, two hot mouths, two stiff dicks, all dedicated to my stimulation and pleasure. One evening, not a week later, as Todd and I had just sat down for dinner, Carl showed up in the dining room with a brimming smile. "I've got a job," he said holding a letter up in his hands. "You'll be rid of me within just a few days. I'm supposed to start next Monday and I've got an apartment lined up near the plant." We opened a bottle of wine and all toasted Carl's good fortune. Later that same evening, Todd and I made our way downstairs to the basement. It was my idea, but quickly Todd picked up the notion and fleshed out the silly details. Carl was watching some reality show on the television while also reading a motorcycle magazine, perhaps deciding where his imminent line of paychecks might go. "Carl," said Todd, "we are of course very happy for your news, but before you move out there is one thing that I need to talk to you about." Both Todd and I held our faces in a grim even foreboding countenance consistent with our plan. Carl momentarily looked stricken. He looked at me and then at Todd obviously thinking that he was about to be called onto the carpet for his sexual shenanigans with me. He said nothing but waited for the ax to fall. "You see," said Todd, "there is the matter of rent." Carl remained still in his chair, but his face played out a complex transition from understanding, to relief, to confusion, to fear. "Judy here has worked out the details, so I will leave it to her to provide you a full accounting of your bill," said Todd with a gracious flourish inviting me to speak. I took a piece of paper from my pocket and unfolded it deliberately. My heart was beating wildly and I was afraid that I'd muff my lines. "Well, according to my numbers, what you owe us for several months of room and partial board, use of the facilities of the house and, of course space in the driveway for your car is, um…." I paused intentionally and mimicked tallying numbers with my finger trailing down the paper and my lips mumbling slightly. "…um, yep, here it is. Okay. As I see it, you owe us a really good fuck." Again Carl's face stepped through a rapid succession of emotions from concern, to surprise, back to concern, and finally disbelief. "What?" he said inconclusively. Todd spoke up. "Listen, Carl, she's told me about the flirting and such." "Listen, man, I didn't mean anything…." Now Carl was clearly alarmed. Todd held up his hands. "No, it's okay. Really. I'm cool. In fact, to tell you the truth, we're both kind of turned on by the idea of taking it to the next step." Still my heart was beating wildly but I managed to nod in agreement. I was excited. I was excited and nervous, almost giddy, and a little embarrassed. I felt like we were walking on the edge of something terribly taboo, and the rational voice in my head that kept telling myself that we're all adults here and open and honest and all that stuff was not being particularly successful in suppressing the notion of our delightful badness. "Next step? Meaning what?" asked Carl. "Well," said Todd, "Judy told you. It's time for you to pay your rent." Todd put his hand lightly on my back and guided me forward in the direction of Carl. I am sure that I looked like a complete idiot thanks to the goofy smile on my face, but that didn't matter much because as Carl rose from his seat, his face too assumed what I imagine to be the same goofy look. He put his hands on my shoulders and ran them down the length of my arms and then, as I stepped closer ran them up the length of my back. We were standing very close and I knew that if this was going to happen, then I would have to make the next move, I would have to initiate the momentum necessary to quell Carl's lingering skepticism. I put my arms around his waist and reached up to kiss him. It was at first a tentative kiss, lips alone, but then upon contact again our mouths opened and I could feel the surge of his confidence and eagerness expressed through the pressure and depth and duration of our union. "Are you sure about this?" he asked me in a whisper when finally we separated. I nodded. He looked over my shoulder towards Todd. "Are you sure about this?" I turned to look at Todd and see him nod and see already the bulge growing in his pants. Carl tugged at my shirt and I helped him pull it over my head and without any prompting unhooked my bra and let it fall to the floor. Carl's hands cupped my breasts and then he leaned down to suck each of my nipples in turn. With the combination of the stimulation and my general excitement and the slight chill of the basement, my nipples were like extremely sensitive rocks on the ends of my tits. If the entire encounter had ended right then, I was already aroused enough to have material for masturbation fantasies for months or years to come. But I didn't want it to end there, not by a long shot. I pulled at Carl's shirt and as he yanked it over his head I started to undo his pants at the belt line. I smoothed my palm against the front of his soft jeans to feel his hardness barely contained beneath. He quickly finished my work and pushed down his pants and I stepped forward again for another kiss. This time there was no hesitancy. It was not so much a meeting of our mouths as a situation of mutual penetration. Our tongues entwined first in my mouth and then in his. Jammed between us I felt his hard cock pressed against my stomach. I got down on my knees in front of him and there, right at eye level, was his thick and meaty cock. I wasn't a virgin when I married Todd, but neither was I that experienced. While I'd performed oral sex prior to our meeting up, these were always fumbling situations in the dark, brief and forgettable preludes to furious teenager copulation. Since then, it had only been Todd's dick that I'd admired and caressed and loved. Yet here immediately before me was a different, big, thick, and eager dick in broad daylight (so to speak) and for a couple of seconds I simply relished the magnificent sight of it. I reached out and stroked it, from the base to the head. With my other hand I reached behind his balls and stroked them forwards for me to see. I was, at this point, so hot and wet and swollen between my legs that I thought that I might come even before I'd taken off my pants. I put the tip of it in my mouth and I heard Carl make the faintest moan of appreciation. I ran my tongue lightly around its head, feeling the dimensions of it, feeling it throb gently against my lips, tasting its fleshy saltiness. I then pulled him towards me, or me towards him, or his cock deep into my mouth and into my throat. The exact details of who moved didn't matter so much as the effect of filling my mouth completely with his hardness. I loosened my throat and held my breath as I tired to swallow him whole, but he was larger than I could accommodate so I stroked what remained beneath my grip. Back and forth, in and out, back and forth, I fucked him with my mouth and then took it out to lick the full length of it. "Mind if I get some of that too," I heard a voice say. I hate to admit it, but I'd basically forgotten that Todd was even there. But I turned my head to see before me his beautiful cock waiting to be sucked. With my right hand, I kept hold of Carl's cock while with my left I guided Todd's into my mouth. I went back and forth from one to the other, from Carl's meaty fullness, to Todd's curved hardness. First, one would put his hand on the back of my head and fuck my mouth and then the other would do the same. Todd then picked me up under my arms and left me standing. As Carl sucked on my nipples and ran his hands over my torso, Todd saw to the removal of my pants and my panties, by now drenched through, almost as though I'd peed my pants. Whatever apprehensions I'd had leading up to this moment, whatever regrets I might suffer later, none of that mattered as I stood naked between two naked men, their and mouths all over my body. Now, I was ready to take control. I pushed Carl back towards the couch until he was sitting up on the back of it, his feet on the seat. I leaned way over and beckoned Todd to fuck me from behind. Just as my mouth again found the swollen head of Carl's dick and my tongue cradled the ridge underneath, the familiar shape of Todd filled me up. I now had one dick buried in my crotch and another buried in my face. Todd began slowly but quickly gathered momentum, his hips slapping my ass over and over, pausing only occasionally to grind in deeply. Carl was leaning back against the wall and spread-eagle wide, yielding entirely his genitalia to my tongue flicking and deep sucking ministrations. It was only when I came with a thunderous gallop that I had to pause with Carl's cock. While I've always enjoyed being fucked from behind like that, never had I climaxed in that position. I thought that I might even fall down as my heart pounded and knees turned momentarily liquid. I didn't want Todd yet to come, so I spun around, sat down on the couch, and pulled his dick into my mouth to slowly taste my juices dripping off of him. He was so hard I feared his skin might burst. I turned to Carl who was watching me intently. He was stroking his cock. "Now, I want you inside me," I said. I lay back on the couch. Carl positioned himself between my legs and I wrapped them around his waist. He put the tip of his cock on my wet and swollen pussy lips. He pushed lightly and just the tip entered me, just the thickness of his head. In and out he played with my pussy, just dancing his cock in and out like a mini-fuck, faster and faster, hotter and hotter, wetter and wetter. Then, like I was being impaled, he drove deep within me with a long hard stroke. It was only three more just strokes before I came again. I held him in, squeezed him tightly with my legs and pushed my hips into his and my entire pelvic region convulsed around his hard shaft. Carl sat up and continued to slide in and out while I caught my breath and Todd was standing over me, the shadow of his dick across my face. "Seems like you enjoyed that a bit, huh?" he said. I thought at first he might be upset or that he might have said that with sarcasm, but then I saw that he was smiling broadly. I put his dick in my mouth and sucked him as Carl continued to fuck me. I was exhausted and nearly to the point of being numb. With a hand signal, Carl and Todd switched positions so that now Todd was fucking me and Carl's dick was in my mouth. "I want to taste your cum," I said when I took his cock from my mouth and stroked it with my hand. I put it back in my mouth and he began to stroke it him himself. Faster and faster he went while with suction I kept the end of it firmly between my lips. Todd too began to fuck me faster and faster. Then, Todd jerked and began to spew cum all over the inside of my mouth. Hot, gooey cum covered my tongue and still it was coming in bursts until I had to let him finish by splattering the side of my face. Apparently that was more than Todd could take since he too jerked and with several short thrusts filled my pussy with his cum. Carl was moved out by the end of the week. It was good to have the house to ourselves again, but obviously I was also sad to see him go. He doesn't live that far away and he stops over the house every now and then. We haven't yet had a repeat performance, but we've also not ruled it out. Todd and I are still like newlyweds all these weeks later. In retrospect, despite the arguments he caused early on, our house guest might be the best thing that has ever happened to our marriage.

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