“Chris, do you remember my friend Hillary?” Becky called to me from the kitchen.

“The one with the nice arse,”  I replied, raising my voice above its natural level, so I could be heard from across large open plan living area, where I was just packing my case for work. 

The comment was a throwaway one, and I didn’t need to turn around to sense the frown forming of on my wife’s face. It was one of the gifts of long-time husbands, that we can always sense our wife’s displeasure.  

“Not the time Peter, she’s having a bad time at home,” Becky replied, her voice serious; to the extent where she didn’t even acknowledge my glib comment.

“Sorry Becks,” and I was. I didn’t know Hillary well but she’d been friends with my wife forever, as close as a sister when they were growing up, and I’ve always found her to be a really sweet woman. Facing Becky across the room as I prepared to leave, I asked, “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Will you make yourself scarce for an hour or two tonight, so we can have some girl time; then bumble in on us with some mindless chit chat.”

“I can just hang out at the pub all night,” I offered. “I’m sure there must be some sport on that I could watch, and you can send me a text whenever you guys are done.”

“No, come on home around seven-thirty,” Becky replied firmly. “Hillary could use some male company that doesn’t treat her like hired help.” 

A Sentence that touched on a dozen issues that I thought it better to let pass for now, so I simply nodded, “You’re the boss”. 

“I am,” she said with a dirty look, which made me smile. “I’ll see you after work.”

I smiled back, “Love you Becks,” and headed out to the car. My mind not lingering, and switched totally over to work mode even before I’d even started the engine.

****

7:30 came and I walked on into the kitchen / living room, all smiles and apologies at interrupting the girls time together. Hillary was surprised to see me, but not obviously put out. Quite clearly, form her posture and the slightly puffy look in her eyes, she’d already gotten a lot off her chest, and had had a bit of a cry with it. I gave her a warm smile in greeting, well aware that sometimes tears were exactly what was needed.

As requested, I made polite conversation, chit-chatting about a hundred different throwaway things; being as charming and non-threatening as possible. Waiting for my wife’s cue, upon which I would beat a hasty exit from proceedings; retiring to the television in our bedroom, with a cold bottle of beer and hopefully an action movie filled with explosions and completely unnecessary nudity. 

“Peter was actually talking about you earlier,” Becky said. There was a subtle change in the tone of her voice, which made me think that she wanted me to play along with a joke of some sort, so I answered honestly, feigning embarrassment, “I said that you have a nice bum.” 

Becky’s voice was stern, but her face didn’t mirror the tone of her voice, “No, tell Hillary what you really said.” 

I avoided making eye contact in my response, “I said that you had a nice arse.”

Hillary laughed out loud, but Becky’s tone of voice remained hard, as though she was genuinely angry, “I think Hillary deserves an apology.” 

Hillary spoke before I could, amusement in her voice, “No, don’t be silly Becks. Quite honestly, it’s been a while since I’ve actually felt attractive, so it’s nice to know that someone likes my bum still. Even if he’s my best mates husband.” 

Becky hadn’t seemed to notice that Hillary wasn’t offended, her voice remaining angry, “And you do find her attractive, don’t you Peter?” 

Hillary’s face drained, from amused, down to shocked. Clearly she wasn’t aware of the darker side to Becky’s personality, but then why would she be. It’d had taken several dates, and a lot of sleepovers, before Becky had confessed that she enjoyed being the dominant partner in a relationship; and if I hadn’t been in love with her before that point, I was from that moment on. 

It wasn’t that I was a naturally submissive guy, but as I grew older I came to enjoy the sensation of being used – in the bedroom – more and more; having always enjoyed being with louder, more vocal women.

As our relationship blossomed towards our eventual marriage, our sexual compatibility grew along with it. Not to the point of the classic Sub/Dom relationship, but to where we both enjoyed indulging from time to time. 

Given Becky’s specific request, that I be here this evening, intruding on her Gal time with Hillary, and the way in which she had chosen to drive the conversation, clearly I was required to play along with some game she had planned. 

I wondered why, and more, how far Becky was expecting me to go. Hillary was married after all, although the tears and wine I’d walked in on were perhaps a sign that everything wasn’t right at home, but… well…

“So, Peter,” Becky brought my attention back to the moment, “do you find Hillary attractive?”

“Of course,” I answered with absolute honesty. While Hillary wasn’t like the inked-up stick figures that dominated TV and movies, she was a great example of what real women approaching 40 looked like: slightly heavier than a full figure, with more exaggerated curves accordingly, for an overall look that was perfectly alright with me.

She had a great dress sense too, and wore clothes that suited her, picked only with thoughts of her confidence and taste; she dressed for herself and looked great because of it. 

Becky’s next question made her friend blush, “Tell us what you like about her?”

“Becks, please,” I pretended to plead with her, hoping I’d adopted the air of a person who was truly embarrassed. 

“No,” my wife’s voice was stern, and I could feel my cock starting to react to it. “I want you to tell us what you find attractive about Hillary - she’s a married woman - you dirty pervert.” 

“Well, I…” I halted with a stutter, as though genuinely unsure of what to say next. “I like your thighs Hillary, whenever I see them outlined in tighter pants I think they look gorgeous.” I made a point of looking Hillary square the eyes as I answered, although my gaze automatically flickered to her legs, underling the point, which caused Hillary to blush with embarrassment. 

She couldn’t read my wife’s intention, or that the conversation was being driven with a purpose. “Thanks Peter,” she managed, her discomfort obvious.

If Hillary was shocked by my blunt honesty, then she was frankly stunned by Becky’s reaction; who had leant back more deeply into the sofa, and was softly teasing her nipples. 

“And why do you think they look gorgeous?” Becky asked, now gently squeezing a breast. 

I glanced quickly to the table, noticing that my wife’s wine glass was nearly full, showing no signs of having been touched, while

Hillary’s was empty, as was the bottle between them. Becky had obviously set the evening motion with a plan, and Hillary, perhaps a little drunk, didn’t know which way to look. 

“I imagine your thighs on either side of my face, just before you force yourself onto my mouth,” I paused, imagining the sweet taste of her spread pussy on my tongue.  

“You’re a bad boy Peter,” Becky tried to manage with venom, and perhaps Hillary heard it; but it didn’t ring true to my ears. I could hear how turned on my wife was becoming, and it drove me wild, which made it all the more difficult to stay in my own chastised character. 

Becky looked sideways, asking Hillary, “Would you like to sit on Peter’s face?”

I looked into Hillary’s eyes, as I waited for the answer, “If things were different  - I would,” I could see the answer cost her something, “but I’d never cheat on Greg.” 

Becky’s next question nearly brought Hillary to the point of fainting, “Has Greg ever licked your arse for you? - I will make Peter eat your arse - has your husband ever done that for you Hillary? – Should I make Peter do it? – He will.” 

The last words were spoken with so much force it was clear I wouldn’t be offered a choice in the matter, not that I would need one. It was all I could do not to lick my lips in anticipation. 

Hillary looked at me, desperately trying to avoid Becky at all costs; who she could clearly feel moving beside her on the sofa; not wanting to face the reality that her friend was now gently rubbing her pussy. 

Clearly this was all about Hillary, about making her the centre of attention, so I tried to keep my eyes focused on her body as much as possible, ignoring Becky’s slow tease, and watching as the flush of her cheeks changed from embarrassment to arousal. Noticing the outline of her nipples becoming more prominent, as they subtly became firmer. I could even sense the tingling of her pussy, expressed by the repressed movement of her hips.  

Becky wasn’t being anywhere near as restrained, and was actively rubbing the crotch of her pants. Certainly with genuine arousal, although with more aggression in her personal action than was usually her way, I’m sure hoping to encourage Hillary to do the same. “I promise, he will make you cum with his mouth - you can use it,” words that I completely echoed in thought, desperately eager to have Hillary‘s hips bare down on my face.

Despite all their years of friendship, had she known my wife was so dirty? – Hillary looked for all the world as if this whole experience was being acted out in some sort of fantasy, and it took her a full minute to answer, “I really shouldn’t.”

Becky heard the no as a yes of another sort, “Should I make Peter take his dick out, would you like to see it?” 

Hillary nodded, almost imperceptibly, which Becky affirmed to me with a definite nod of her own.

I made no attempt to draw the moment out and simply pulled my semi-hard cock out. Where it stood up limply, approaching a true erection. Hillary was stunned, and while I knew I was bigger, and certainly thicker than what was average, I wasn’t freakish in size. 

Hillary was most likely shocked because mine was surely the first hard cock, beyond her husbands, that she’d seen in a long time.

“Make it hard Peter,” Becky ordered, and I began wanking on my shaft as ordered. 

Hillary sat looking on, almost catatonic, as I made myself fully hard in front of her. The head of my cock swelled and leaked a little pre-cum, which I massaged into my shaft with both Hillary and Becky’s eyes tracing ever action of my hand; their faces rapt and intense. 

Not having been told to stop, I continued to luridly stare at Hillary’s body while I stroked myself, making my cock ever harder. While I was enjoying the moment certainly, I remained conscious of the fact that I was performing for the two women in the room, wanking myself with exaggerated actions.

“This is wrong,” Hillary said, but her eyes never left the shape of my hand, as it firmly pumped my shaft, in a slow and constant motion. 

Again, Becky heard what her friend secretly meant, asking, “Would you like me to make him cum for us?”

This time there was no hesitation in Hillary’s response, answering instinctively with words loaded with desire, “Yes – my god, yes.”

I prepared myself for the order to cum. It wouldn’t be difficult, because when was it ever, and a minute or two of intense masturbation would be enough to bring myself off. I was sure to cum hard, with my secret sexual fetish, of being used by my wife, fulfilled in a new exotic way.  

Becky stood, in a swift aggressive motion, which surprised me, giving me the order to, “Stand,” rather than cum, as I’d expected.  

I complied instantly,  like a soldier answering the command of his drill sergeant, with my dick standing out hard and proud, bridging the gap between us. I hadn’t expected that Becky would want to touch me in front of her friend, but I was fully prepared to go with it. 

She spoke to Hillary next, “Would you like to see how I make Peter cum?” She asked, adding the qualifier, “When he’s been bad.” 

The look Becky was directing at me was one of mock fury, and I finally sensed where she intending to drive things, which was further than I was willing to go. 

“Becks,” I started, but my words were cut off, as Becky came to me and roughly kissed me, before lightly biting my neck and whispering, “Please Pete, she really needs this.” 

Becky stepped back, making eye contact and waiting for my answer. What could I say - fuck it - we’d come this far, Hillary might as well know all our secrets; so I offered the slightest of nods, confirming my assent. 

A smile briefly touched the corners of my wife’s lips, as her voice raised again, slipping flawlessly back into character, “Bad boy.”

I didn’t expect what came next, as Becky slapped hard across the tip of my penis, causing me to yelp out in pain; even as her hand sent pre-cum flying across the room.

If I’d been shocked, Hillary was flabbergasted by the slap and the tone in which Becky spoke next, “You have been bad Peter.”

“I have Rebecca, I’m sorry,” I said using her full name. Despite the apology, she slapped across the tip of my penis again, triggering another yelp of sexually charged pain. 

“Take your trousers off,” Becky said, standing back from me, so Hillary could get a clear look of my reasonably fit legs and buttocks. 

I spared a glance towards Hillary, who’s posture betrayed how turned on she was, even if she would never be able to admit to us; perhaps even to herself. 

“Bend over,” Becky told me. I was still apprehensive about what was going to happen, this being a secret I’d only ever shared with my wife, but I was too turned on to stop now, and while I hadn’t touched myself In a while, my cock stood harder than ever.

I didn’t have to ask Becky where, we’d done this before; although not with anyone watching. I went and stood by the breakfast bar, which separated our kitchen and living room areas, bending forward to brace myself against the countertop. 

Honestly, I expected Becky to start by spanking me with her hand; so I was a little shocked when she took a small paddle, much like a table tennis bat, from a draw inside the counter. 

Ordinarily, we don’t keep our sex toys downstairs, so clearly Becky had given this evening a lot more thought than I’d initially realised. 

I only had a brief moment to saviour the anticipation, before I felt the sweet sting of the paddle striking my cheeks. “Bad – Boy,”

Becky grunted, punctuating each word with a stroke of the paddle which, now I was ready for the pain, caused me to moan with pleasure rather than yelp in surprise. Becky was striking me firmly, not excessively hard; we’d found the correct level years before, and now every stroke against my arse caused my cock to twitch with excitement. 

“You want to lick my friends pussy, don’t you?” she said, striking me a fraction harder to accentuate the point. 

“Yes,” I groaned, “I’m sorry, Rebecca. I promise I won’t.”

Becky spanked me again, “I think that’s up to Hillary, do you want him too?” 

I could no longer see her face or body, but Hillary’s breathing had deepened in a way that was undeniably sexual.  It took a moment for the answer to come, perhaps she was shocked at being addressed directly, in the midst of witnessing my punishment and degradation; perhaps it was the wine she’d drunk, pushing against her personal boundaries, but finally, she answered, “No – I’d like to – but I can’t.” 

At the answer, Becky struck me again, “It’s your fault Peter.” 

I moaned again, driven wild by the sweet sting of the spanking I was receiving. “I’m sorry Rebecca,” I forced out, trying to act the part of the submission husband, but it could only be obvious to Hillary how turned on we both were. My cock spoke louder than any voiced moans of pleasure/pain, and there was a faint musk smell in the room, which was surely coming from my wife’s wet pussy.

“Don’t apologise to me; apologise to Hillary,” Becky spanked me again, to punctuate her words.

I affected my most subservient voice, “I’m really sorry Hillary, I just wanted to you to sit on my face.”

“No,” Becky spanked me again, and I knew I was going to be sore tomorrow. “Stop – it.” 

“I’m sorry Rebecca,” I grunted, as she struck again. 

“Hillary come here.” Honestly, I didn’t think Hillary would dare to come closer than the sofa, but the tone of command in Becky’s voice and maybe her own state of arousal, were enough to encourage her to stand and come up behind me. 

I wasn’t sure if it was my line next, so I decided to wait and let Becky drive the point. When she spoke next, her voice was softer and spoke more in an undertone, “Take it, just like I did.” Hillary said something next, so softly that I couldn’t hear her. Becky’s response was enough to fill in the part of the conversation that I’d missed, “Yes, I promise he likes it.” 

I decided to reinforce the point, “Please Hillary, I’m really sorry I said those things about wanting to taste you.”

The next spank of the paddle was softer, unsure and hesitant – clearly, Hillary had taken the paddle from her friend, and I made a point of moaning loudly with pleasure, “Please Hillary – please – harder.”  

This time she didn’t hold back and struck me harder, causing me to genuinely yelp again with the shock at the unexpected intensity of the pain, “I’m sorry Hillary – I’m sorry – please,” I begged. 

She struck again, harder still and I again genuinely yelped in pain. Truthfully, it was a little harder than I enjoyed, and if it had been Becky holding the paddle I’d have asked her to hold back a little. This was Hillary’s first time, and there was clearly some element of cathartic release to the process, so I was content to play my role, feeling my own exhilaration rippling through my hard cock.

Hillary struck again, and again, and a third time; with my unaffected screams of pleasure/pain increasing with the intensity of each blow; while my cock twitched with every corresponding burst of adrenaline, as my boundaries were pushed and reset to a higher tolerance bar, one that I’d look forward to exploring with Becky in the future. 

Finally, after another half a dozen strikes, Becky sensed that things were about to go too far and restrained her friend with a word,

“That’s enough Hill, he’s sorry; aren’t you Peter?”

I breathed deeply, feeling the sensual stinging of my arse cheeks with every exhalation. “I’m sorry Hillary, I promise,” I answered, trying to sound meek, even though it was obvious that I was a man at the highest state of arousal.

My cock had been leaking a steady stream of pre-cum onto the uncarpeted floor that surrounded the breakfast bar, which had been an unplanned bonus of the first time myself and Becky had enacted a version of this game and was now the reason why I was always ordered to brace myself at this particular spot. 

I felt a hand gently caressing my arse, as though trying to rub it better. As I faced forward I couldn’t tell who’s hand it was, so I closed my eyes and rested fully on counter enjoying the sensation, while breathing deeply, trying to will my penis back from the point of orgasm, but such was the state of my arousal, that even the caressing of my stinging cheeks was causing it to a twitch in excitement.

Becky spoke softly again, leaving the voice of domination aside, as she asked her friend, “Did you enjoy that?” 

The hand on my arse squeezed slightly, making me believe that it was Hillary who was massaging me. “My God, that was hot,” her voice sounded deeply embarrassed, which brought a smile to my face, given that I was bent over in front of her, with a raging hard-on; after being roughly spanked in front of, and by, her. 

Hillary hesitated before finishing her thought, “My pussy is so wet.”

I felt another hand on my arse, gripping it firmly, and I was certain this one belonged to my wife. “Would you like to try something else,” Becky asked her friend. “Peter has been a good boy, and I think he deserves the chance to cum.” 

Again, Hillary hesitated before answering, “I can’t Becky; yes, I admit it, Greg is being horrible to me, but I won't sleep with anyone else.” There was another pause, before her final confession, “No matter how much I want too – and not event with your husband, who I know wouldn’t tell anyone.”

How could I ever tell anyone about this. Whatever else happened, or did not, Hillary would be leaving here with my deepest secrets, secrets that would hang like a weight above me. I didn’t know Hillary well enough to trust her with this part of myself; all of my trust was in Becky, and that she was sure she knew what she was doing. 

“What if there was something else you could do,” Becky spoke again, “something that you’ve never done with Greg – and you wouldn’t have to touch Pete’s cock.”

“I don’t know Becky,” Hillary answered after a pause for thought. “I suppose...” which was enough assent for Becky, who brought the next surprise, with a second toy appeared from the draw. 

I opened my eyes curious also, but not so much in shock at what was being taken out of the draw; I was more curious about which one was being taken from the draw. 

We owned a few strap-on dildos of various sizes, but like the paddle, they weren’t the sort of things we ordinarily kept in the kitchen/living area of the house, which again showed just how much planning Becky had put into her agenda. 

I couldn’t see Hillary’s eyes widen, but I could hear the shock in her voice, at the sight of the strap-on being taken from the draw. “My god Rebecca,” she exclaimed, using my wife’s full name for the first time that I could ever remember, “what the fuck is that?!”

My eyes had caught a look at the particular dildo, as it passed backwards out of my sight. It wasn’t the biggest one we owned, for which I was glad because if Hillary agreed, it would be her first time, and I was already in line to be very sore in the morning. The particular strap-on was still about the size of my own cock, which had been big enough to shock Hillary, but was a size I knew I could take. 

Becky asked her, “Have you ever wondered…?” 

Personally, I expected Hillary to say no, that this was a bridge too far, so I was a little surprised when Hillary spoke to me directly, her voice filled with a mixture guilt and nerves, “You don’t mind Peter; you like this?” 

“Please,” I spoke, my first words in the exchange for quite a while, “I love it Hillary, and I really need to cum – you can fuck me as hard as you like – just promise me you won't stop until I cum.” 

It wasn’t what a man in the role of a sub would ordinarily say, but as Becky had let her character slip, I felt OK in leaving mine. As desperate as I was to cum, this was still about Hillary, and about giving her a chance to set free whatever had built up inside her.

There wasn’t a spoken word, I could only assume there was some other form of assent, because Becky spoke next, “Put it on.” 

 
Instructions followed, about how exactly to put on a strap-on properly; how to adjust it and position the dildo correctly.

I didn’t hear them though, because as Becky explained she also poured a lot of lube onto my arsehole. Gently massaging my ring, loosening it to the point where she could push a finger into me. When she had her index finger in me fully, she started fucking me slowly, which again returned my cock to it’s fullest state of arousal, and caused me to begin moaning aloud. 

My moans were the signal to Becky that I was ready for more. We’d practised this routine many times before, and as I started to moan she pushed a second heavily lubed finger into my arse and began fucking it with more aggression. 

It felt amazing, as it always did, and Becky knew exactly how to manipulate my arse to the point orgasm purely from anal/prostate stimulation. I could feel myself getting close, and may have cum if Hillary hadn’t interrupted Becky’s process; asking if the strap-on was on correctly.

“Perfect, pour a lot of lube all over it,” Becky instructed. Perhaps an unspoken word passed between them, one housewife to another, as it were, which Becky answered, “Don’t worry about it, we’ll clean up later.” 

There was a pause, as I waited. This was it, what the evening had been building towards. Becky’s two fingers massaged my arse a little more, before she asked me gently, “Ready babe?”

I brought my head and chest off the counter and looked backwards to steal a glance at two of them. Both women were flushed, obviously very, very aroused; and Hillary looked incredibly sexy with the large strap-on cock fastened to her crotch, mirroring my full state of arousal. 

I smiled, trying to be as reassuring as possible, before facing front again and saying, “Ready.”

Becky pulled her fingers out, and my arse immediately started to contract back to its normal size. I braced myself, waiting for the head of the much thicker dildo to replace the two fingers inside me.  

“What do I do,” Hillary asked her friend.

Becky answered, betraying a hint of frustration, “Just imagine it was you, and how you would like it.”

Hillary mumbled something that neither of us could hear, so she was forced to repeat herself, her voice dripping with embarrassment,

“I have never – well – I’ve never had anal sex.”

“It’s OK,” Becky answered, coaching her friend, “Peter has, just push it in, and then fuck him as hard as you can – let it all out Hill, fuck him as hard as you can – seriously, make him scream if you can.” 

Knowing how big the dildo was, I hoped that Hillary didn’t take her friends advice literally, although I was prepared to take it; and would fucking love every second. 

I felt the head of the strap-on push against me, I tried to relax myself as much as possible, but my ass naturally resisted. I waited for Hillary to increase the pressure, but she again hesitated, probably concerned that she was going to hurt me, despite everything else that had happened. 

“Like this,” Becky coached, and Immediately I felt the pressure increase, perhaps my wife was pushing against Hillary’s hips, forcing her surrogate cock inside me.  

I felt the head enter my arse, which pushed out and resisted it, but now Hillary had the motion she continued pushing into me, and I felt myself becoming full. I couldn’t resist moaning for the girls, “Fuck yes baby, harder, push it in.” 

Ordinarily, I’d have asked Becky stop and insert the full length in stages, allowing me to adjust to the fullness, but I didn’t want to discourage Hillary now that she had taken her first steps. 

I felt so delightfully full and there was a sharp ache of pain, caused by the dildo pushing into me. I couldn’t help but moan again, “Fuck, yes Hillary – push it in baby – push it in and fuck me baby – please Hillary, it feels so good in my arse.”

My cock hardened fully again, and started wagging back and forth beneath me, as Hillary began to fuck my arse; pushing the length further and further into me with every thrust, until she finally bottomed out with more than 7 inches inside me. Hillary took that as a sign to grab my bare hips and increase her pace, now aggressively fucking me. 

There was no finesse to her actions, or any attempt to try and coax me to an orgasm. Hillary just pulled the dildo out, before thrusting it back in as hard as she could; and I loved every second of it. 

Hillary was moaning now, with the moans accompanying every forward thrust into me, and I could just imagine the feel of the strap-on pushing hard against her crotch, stimulating her pussy and clit, driving on her on to fuck me, again, and again. 

I moaned loudly with every thrust; loving the rough fucking that I was going to be feeling for days. Hillary, just fucked me like an animal, whatever was going on in her personal life had been forgotten. Whatever repression she was dealing with was being unleashed, as she got in touch with her sexuality in a completely new way – moaning louder and louder, as she ground her pussy against the base of the strap-on she was thrusting into my arse. 

I wish I could see her face as she fucked me, because it sounded to all the world that she about to make herself cum. A thought that drove me wild, almost to the point of my own orgasm. 

I could cum from anal penetration, Becky had managed to do it on several occasions, but there was a trick to it. The orgasms were longer, more drawn out, with the cum leaking from my cock in slow continuous stream; rather than the true spurt of ejaculation that men experienced when stimulated more traditionally. 

I tried to change the angle of my hips slightly, willing Hillary to bring me off. Inexperienced as she was, I didn’t think she was going to be able to do it; but it felt so good that my cock was now rock hard and beating rhythmically against the breakfast bar.

Becky came around to the kitchen area, leaning back against the cooker to take in the scene of her best-friend fucking her husband arse from another angle. There was no pretence in my wife’s posture, she just pushed her hand down the front of her loose pants and began masturbating her pussy; her focus completely on the scene of Hillary going to town on me. 

I didn’t think she could, but Hillary actually started fucking harder and faster; and I couldn’t control myself anymore, simply grunting with every thrust. 

“Give it to me Hillary,” I encouraged, “come on baby, harder, make me cum!”

If she heard me though, there no sign. She’d slipped into a trance, her orgasm clearly approaching; her mind in another place, somewhere beyond the mere physical act of screwing a man’s arse for the first time. 

I heard a slight whimper come from my wife, and I looked up to watch her shudder with an orgasm; biting into her lip, trying to stay as silent as possible, clearly not wanting to distract Hillary from whatever fantasy she was living out. 

Hillary’s breathing changed slightly, as she began panting, “Yes – yes – yes – yes,” and I knew she was going to cum; pushing the rubber cock all the way into me, frantically grinding her crotch against me, and gripping my hips so hard they’d be bruised for days.

And then, with the slightest squeak, she stopped; her breathing changed, and she began the slow post-orgasmic process of regaining her composure.

My own groaning changed too, my arse was so full, I was utterly desperate, and just needed a little more.  

Perhaps sensing my frustration, Becky mouthed, “Did you,” and I shook my head, almost grimacing I needed to cum so badly. 
“Wank it,” Becky said aloud this time. I immediately took a hand from the counter and awkwardly tried to masturbate.  With Hillary’s weight against me, effectively pinning my hips to the breakfast counter with the strap-on up my arse, it was impossible to build up an instant motion.

I don’t know what prompted her, perhaps she took Becky’s command of ‘wank it’ as being directed at her, or maybe Hillary simply took pity on me, but I felt her hand on my own, gently pulling mine from my cock, which she then gripped and began jerking.

Today may have been her first time fucking a man, but she knew how to give an expert handjob, and she began jerking me off with exactly the right motion.

I groaned, which was nothing like the sound of a word; purely an animal sound.

Closing my eyes, I concentrated on the feel of Hillary’s cock buried in me, and as I came my arse squeezed against it hard, trying to force it out; a motion that Hillary’s body weight prevented, which drove my orgasm to a higher level; causing my cock to spray rope after rope of cum against the breakfast bar. 
 

Messy as my cock was, with everything that had come before, I don’t think Hillary had realised that she’d brought me all the way off, to the point where my balls were now dry heaving. She just kept tossing my cock hard and fast, until the head actually started to hurt from the pain of trying to cum over, and over again.

I was spared the indignity of begging her to stop, when Hillary realised my cock was turning flaccid in her grip. 

Maybe Hillary had gone further, in jerking me off, than she intended and she stood back from me; unconsciously pulling the strap-on out of me in the same motion, causing me to gasp, as the vice sensation in my arse was suddenly released.

I gave up, and put head and chest down against the breakfast counter, letting the post-orgasmic bliss wash over me. I wanted to look back, to take in Hillary features – the second woman to ever fuck my arse – but something held me back, fearful I’d see embarrassment or shame.

It wasn’t my place to tell her that they was no need for either; that would be a conversation that she needed to have in private with Becky. 

“Do you want to go and clean up in the bathroom Hill?” my wife suggested softly, having had a few extra moments to regain her own composure.  

There wasn’t an audible response, but as I heard Hillary leave the room I stood up straight, feeling stiff all over, while my arse was deliciously sore from both the spanking and the hard fucking it had taken. 

Looking down I could see the mess we’d made. There was cum everywhere, not mention all the lube, which must have run down my legs. Becky must’ve used the better part of a tube, to make sure her friend didn’t hurt me; quite correctly anticipating that when Hillary finally let go, she would go wild. 

I looked up from mess to Becky, noticing the clear wet spot at the crotch of pants. “Becks, I need to clean up too,” she understood completely and nodded. 

“Stay upstairs after your shower babe, I’ll make your excuses. I need to have a proper talk with Hillary now that she’s got that out of her system.” 

“Is everything alright,” I meant with Hillary, with her husband, with her family; with whatever the hell this was really all about.  

My wife answered, “It will be.”

“Please ask her, form me, not to mention this to anyone,” this was the secret side of me that I hadn’t ever shared beyond our marriage; I just couldn’t bear it to become known. 

“She won't, I promise,” Becky said, coming over to kiss me passionately, and squeeze my hanging cock. “But if she wants to do it again?”

I kissed Becky back, running my hand through her hair, “Not today babe.”

[End]