Confessions

Glancing back, I saw her stretched out on the bed, her fingers working between her own legs. Her dark hair was shaved except for a thin line of hair above her cleft, and her pussy lips glistened in the lamp light. The sight of her made me hungry, eager, and then out of the corner of my eye, I saw my husband and remembered him for the first time.

He was sitting in the big chair in the corner, just watching. Well, not entirely just…

he had his pants unzipped, cock in hand. But he didn’t seem disappointed in not joining us. In fact, he looked thrilled to be watching our little show, although I hadn’t considered that was what Meg and I were doing.

“I want you, too,” I murmured in explanation as I moved, hearing her whimper as my pussy left her mouth, turning so I could lick her smooth, shaved mound. She moaned and gasped against my clit as I found hers and pressed it with my tongue. She was wetter than I could have imagined, and I played in her juices, my fingers spreading her wetness over the impossibly soft swell of her lips, drawing it inward toward the tight clutch of her pussy as my fingers slid in, as if I could somehow push it all back inside.

“Oh yes, yes,” she whispered. “Fuck me, baby. Fuck my puss.” I did just as she asked, plunging my fingers in and out as my tongue lapped at her clit. I felt her tremble, her hands clutching my hips as she moaned against my mound. I couldn’t hold off much longer-the press of her tongue made me spread and rock, I couldn’t help it, rolling my hips in her hands.

Through half-closed eyes, I saw my husband stroking his cock and biting his lip as he watched us, and that, too, was incredible, knowing how hot he was just seeing us together. Precum glistened on the tip of his cock, steadily leaking, and I used my other hand to pull her lips wider, showing him the open, pink spread of her pussy. He groaned, and I licked and fucker her even faster, barely able to keep my mouth on her as she bucked and thrashed beneath me, her belly already tightening with her impending orgasm.

“Ohhhh fuck!” I gasped when the hot, wet press of her tongue sent me right to the edge. “Oh god, yes, make me come! Please!”

“Nnnn nnnnnn,” was all she could manage-her mouth was too full of me to get out any more. But she was coming, too, I felt it in the tight shudder of her beneath me, the gentle pulse and clench of her muscles around my fingers as I fucked her. And when I looked over, I saw he was coming, too, a white-hot geyser spilling over his fist.

“Oh god! Now!” I moaned and ground myself against her tongue, taking myself there, making her take me, and she did, wrapping her arms around my hips and pulling me in deep, swallowing every last bit of me.

When she and I finally lay pressed belly to belly in bed, breathless and satisfied, my gaze followed the design of her tattoo. It wasn’t a mangled butterfly, but some Celtic design, repeating over and over, and I traced it with my finger like a mandala until she dozed. I didn’t know then that it was the closest I would come to a threesome as my husband came to bed, too, pressing in behind me, and we slept that way for a while before she got up and dressed and kissed me one last time.

Confessions: Back Seat

I hung out with a “bad” crowd. That’s what my parents told me. The funny thing is, I wasn’t a bad kid. I didn’t do all of the drinking and smoking and drugs that everyone else I hung around with did. It just wasn’t my thing. I didn’t like to dull my senses. I liked the experience too much as it was to even think about “enhancing” it with all of that stuff.

My senior year in high school, I had a friend who was dating some “older guy.” He was in his twenties, had his own place, and had a lot of friends. She kept trying to hook me up with one of them, but the only thing they seemed interested in was sex. And while that was appealing to me on a certain level, it only went so far. I wanted more than that, and so I resisted. Someone had dubbed me the “Ice Princess,” because I would actually sit and read a book while everyone else found a room and made out.

The truth is, I wasn’t unaffected. The soft moans of pleasure made me wet, and there were times I went home and touched myself, remembering. But I couldn’t seem to get out of my own way, past my inhibitions and fears, and so I just watched, or listened, but never participated. Besides, most of them were already coupled, and I was the third wheel… or the fifth, or the seventh, depending on how many of us there were.