I’m not sure how I’m supposed to feel right now. I mean, I’m the one who wanted this. I organised it. Orchestrated it. Carefully arranged every last detail from the level of lighting above us right down to the colour of the sheets on the now dishevelled bed. I chose where to put the chair I’m sitting in, where to place the condoms and lube. Everything in the room is exactly as I envisioned it would be.
But in my head? In there it’s a fucking car crash. I’m locked in a silent, internal war with so many different factions in play I can’t tell which will take the victory. Will it be lust? Pride? Or will jealousy win the battle? It would seem that I’ve prepared everything except for myself.
If I keep my eyes on the action, if I make myself see a dick sawing in and out of a cunt and nothing else, I feel it in my groin. I feel my thigh muscles flexing, my ass clenching, my twisted cock trying its best to free itself from the constraints of my fully buttoned jeans.
When watching the force of thrusts rippling across fleshy cheeks and seeing red prints blossoming wherever heavy palms have struck, all I am is arousal. The need to fuck and be fucked swells inside of me until I’m scratching at my belt with fingers that are too shaky to perform even the simple task of unbuckling it.
But if I look up and see that it isn’t just some random woman getting fucked, if I look up and see that the body on the bed is Annie, I almost hate the surge of desire I feel. I don’t want to want her when she’s like this. When she’s on her belly with her ass in the air while someone who isn’t me uses her.
I watch the pupils and irises of her eyes disappear behind her upper lids as Josh puts his hands on her back and pushes her further into the mattress. The move lifts her ass higher, tilts it, gives him room to drive his ten-inch cock deeper into her.
I know he’s looking at me. From the beginning he’s been stealing glances, gauging my reactions, seeing if I’m okay with the things he’s doing. He either doesn’t really give a shit how I feel, or I have the best poker face in the land, because he’s still going and I’m not sure I’m into this.
I don’t meet his gaze because I can’t tear my eyes away from Annie, even though I want to. Saliva is trickling down the side of her cheek into her hair. An abnormally deep moan seeps from her throat in an uneven wobble, getting louder and shakier as Josh pounds her harder. She’s coming again, and it makes my chest ache.
Over and over, again and again, Josh has dragged orgasm after orgasm from her hungry cunt. I wish it was me making her feel that. Does she wish it was me? Does she even remember that I’m in the fucking room? I don’t think she does. Josh keeps looking over at me, but Annie hasn’t spared me a glimpse.
I close my eyes, shutting them both out. If only I could close my ears to block out the sounds of wet fucking on a protesting mattress life would be great. I take a moment to calm myself then open my eyes again. So much can change in the space of a dozen heartbeats.
Annie is on her back now. Her head is dangling over the edge of the bed and her tits are going wild as the everlasting erection between my best friend’s legs thuds into her. She’s coming again, this time laughing in what I guess is disbelief. Her usually poker straight red hair is a tangle of knots that skim the floor. The mess reminds me of a split mattress and now I’m laughing too, and that changes everything.
I have her attention now. My laugh reminded her that I’m here. Her amused disbelief changes into unbridled lust. She opens her eyes wide, holding my gaze, staring at me with so much want I don’t realise how much the dynamic has shifted until I have my cock in my hand.
Annie’s eyelids flutter again but she fights them. Even as she comes she’s nodding at me, encouraging me to stroke myself for her. I’ve spat on my palm and fisted my dick and I’m jerking it in quick, sporadic bursts. I’m doing it, but am I doing it for her? She can’t feel me. She doesn’t know how I’m making myself feel, how she’s making me feel.
Does Josh? I know he’s still looking at me. Probably wondering how I feel, watching him fuck my wife. I giggle again, wondering for the first time how it feels to be him. When I approached him about this fantasy of mine he didn’t hesitate to say yes, but we all know who he would rather have beneath him.
Is he watching my hand sliding up and down my shaft and wishing my fingers were curled around his? I sneak a look at his face and see his eyes drift closed. His jaw is loose, his nostrils are flaring. Is he imagining that the hips he’s holding onto for dear life are mine?
Fuck, now I’m imagining it. There’s an image of it in my head and I can’t shake it. Me, on my knees with Josh behind me, dick buried to the hilt in my ass. Annie on her stomach in front of me, blowing me like only she can. It’s almost as if I can feel it. Her nails scratching my outer thighs, his balls swinging into mine, her flaming hair bunched up in my fists.
Which of us said that?
Annie is on her knees on the floor. Josh is stumbling off the bed, standing over her, one hand frantically wanking while the other one reaches for me. Should I join them? This isn’t how I thought this would end but who am I to argue?
As soon as I take Josh’s hand, he groans. Annie sticks out her tongue and laughs, and as soon as I see the first drops of spunk splash her lips my own release hits me. Within seconds her face is covered in sticky white gunk. She scrapes some off her cheek and eats it, rubs a few ribbons of it into her abused nipples.
I could end this now. If I wanted to. Josh would leave, Annie and I would shower, and later on, we’d all get together for a beer to talk about all the ways we could have done it differently. But I have a question for my wife and her answer will determine what happens next.
“Hey, Annie, you know that fantasy you said you have about watching me fuck someone else?” I begin.
“Does it have to be a woman?”