“Are You A Cuckold, Sweetheart?” My wife Melanie asked me as we got ready for bed.

Are you a cuckold, sweetheart?” Melanie’s question echoed through the quiet of our bedroom, the air thick with the scent of her recent perfume. I froze mid-step, the cold floor tiles suddenly feeling like ice beneath my bare feet.

She was standing by the bed, her dark hair cascading over her shoulders, the moonlight casting an ethereal glow on her naked form as she slipped into a silk nightgown that barely contained her ample curves. The term hung in the air, a tantalizing fruit ripe for the picking, yet I was unsure if I was ready to indulge in its sweet, forbidden flavor.

Swallowing hard, I searched for the right words, my heart racing in anticipation of where this conversation might lead us. “What do you mean by that, Mel?” I asked, my voice strained. She turned to face me, a mischievous smile playing at the corners of her lips. “You know what I mean,” she said, her eyes glinting with a playful spark. “Are you okay with the idea of sharing me with another man?”

Melanie’s question was a bombshell, but not entirely unexpected. We had flirted with the idea of swinging and open relationships in the past, but it was always in the realm of theoretical late-night whispers. This was the first time she had ever put it to me so directly. I felt a mix of emotions—fear, excitement, and a peculiar kind of arousal that seemed to coil in my stomach.

“What… what brought this on?” I managed to ask, trying to maintain a calm demeanor as I approached her.

Her smile grew, revealing a hint of the seductress lurking beneath her innocent facade. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while,” she said, her voice dropping to a sultry purr. “I want to explore my desires, and I want you to be part of it.” She stepped closer, her breasts brushing against my chest through the thin fabric of her nightgown. “But only if you’re willing to share.”

My mind raced with scenarios, each more erotic than the last. I had never considered myself a cuckold before, but the thought of watching Melanie with another man—of being part of her sexual adventures—was suddenly intoxicating. “What are you proposing?” I asked, my voice husky with desire.

Melanie’s eyes locked onto mine, and I could see the hunger in them, a hunger that mirrored my own. She had always been a beauty, but in that moment, she was a goddess of lust. Her skin was a canvas of soft curves and enticing shadows, begging to be explored. The silk of her nightgown clung to her body like a second skin, hinting at the treasures beneath. The way it fell from her shoulders and hugged her waist was a silent invitation, a promise of the passion that awaited us both.

Her breasts, full and pert, threatened to spill out of the gown’s low neckline with every breath she took. The sight of her erect nipples straining against the fabric sent a bolt of electricity straight to my groin. I could feel my cock stiffening, eager to be part of the game she was proposing. Her hips swayed gently as she moved closer, the silk whispering against her thighs. The fabric was so thin that it was almost transparent, revealing the dark triangle of her pubic hair, and the slight swell of her labia.

“I’ve found someone,” she murmured, her voice a siren’s call. “Someone who makes me feel alive, who makes me wet just thinking about him.”

The words were like a blowtorch to my senses, igniting a fire that burned away any lingering hesitation. “And I want you to watch us, to see how much pleasure he can give me.” She reached out, her hand grazing my erection through my pajama bottoms. “But only if you want to, baby. This is all about us, exploring our boundaries together.”

The room was silent except for the sound of our ragged breaths. I could feel the blood pulsing in my veins, my heart hammering in my chest. “Who is he?” I asked, the question leaving my lips before I could even think it. 

Melanie’s smile grew wider, a secret shared between us. “His name is John,” she said, her eyes gleaming. “He’s charming, strong, and oh so very good at what he does.” She leaned in, her breath hot against my ear. “He makes me scream his name, sweetheart.”

My cock twitched at the thought of another man making my wife feel that way, and I realized with a start that I didn’t hate it. Instead, a strange thrill coursed through me, a feeling of submission and excitement mingling together in a heady cocktail. “What do you want me to do?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

“He fucked you in our bed?” I asked, my cock twitched at the thought. “When did that happen?”

“Last month when you were gone for a week on your business trip,” she smiled. “We fucked every night.”

Her words were like a sledgehammer to my chest, knocking the wind out of me. Yet, instead of anger, a thrill shot through me. The mental image of Melanie writhing beneath John’s muscular frame, her moans filling our marital bed, filled me with a perverse excitement. I felt my cock harden even more at the thought of her infidelity, her betrayal so close and yet so alluring.

Melanie stepped back, her eyes searching my face for a reaction. “You’re not upset?” she asked, a hint of surprise in her voice. I took a deep breath, trying to process the emotions crashing through me. “No,” I admitted, “I’m not upset.” A pause hung between us, filled with the unspoken understanding that our relationship was about to take a sharp turn down a road we had only ever talked about in hushed tones.

“Good,” she said, her smile widening. “Because I want you to be a part of this. I want you to watch me with him, to see how much I enjoy it.” She took my hand, her grip firm and steady, and led me to the bed. My knees felt weak as she sat me down, her other hand still stroking my hardening cock. “But there’s one condition,” she added, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “You can’t touch me while he’s inside me.”

I nodded, my throat dry. The thought of watching my wife with another man was a fantasy come to life, a dark and thrilling taboo that I never knew I craved. “Okay,” I croaked, my voice betraying the tumult of emotions within me. Melanie leaned in, her lips brushing against mine in a soft, lingering kiss that spoke of the love and trust we shared.

“Good boy,” she whispered, her voice dripping with sweetness and a hint of dominance that made my cock throb even more. She pulled away and turned to the dresser, opening the top drawer to reveal a collection of lingerie and sex toys we had accumulated over the years. Her hand hovered over a small, velvet box before she turned back to me. “Would you like to pick out something for me to wear for him?”

I stared at the box, my heart racing. The idea of choosing what my wife would wear for another man was both humiliating and incredibly arousing. I nodded, my mouth too dry to speak. She handed it to me, her eyes gleaming with excitement. I lifted the lid to reveal a pair of black, lace-trimmed crotchless panties and a matching bra that barely contained her full breasts. I pulled them out, the delicate fabric feeling like it was made of pure desire in my trembling hands.

“These are perfect,” Melanie purred, taking the lingerie from me. She turned to the mirror, her eyes meeting mine in the reflection as she began to dress herself. She slid the panties up her smooth thighs, the lace teasing her skin as it hugged her curves. The crotchless design left her pussy bare, and I couldn’t help but wonder if John had been the one to choose them. The bra was next, the cups barely containing her breasts, which threatened to spill out with every movement.

As she dressed, she spoke of John in hushed, reverent tones—his touch, his kisses, the way he made her body sing. Each word was a knife in my heart, but instead of pain, I felt a strange thrill, a sense of being part of something forbidden and exciting. I watched as she fastened the bra, her breasts lifting and swaying with the motion. The lace pushed her nipples up, creating little peaks that begged to be kissed.

Melanie turned to face me, her eyes searching my face for any signs of doubt or anger. But all she found was a hunger that matched her own. “You’re sure about this?” she asked, her voice soft and gentle.I nodded, my eyes never leaving hers. “I am,” I said, my voice strong and clear. “I want to see you happy, even if it means sharing you with someone else.”

The words seemed to unleash something in Melanie. She practically purred as she stepped into the panties, her hips swaying as she adjusted the fabric. The sight of her bare pussy, framed by the lace, was almost too much to bear. I could feel pre-cum beading at the tip of my cock, and I had to resist the urge to touch myself. She turned back to me, the bra hanging from her fingers. “Fasten me up?” she asked, her eyes filled with a mischievous glint.

I took the bra from her, my hands trembling slightly as I reached behind her to clasp it. Her skin was warm and soft, and I could feel the goosebumps rising on her flesh as my fingers brushed against her. The lace was delicate in my hands, a stark contrast to the steeliness of the clasp. As I secured it around her, her breasts spilled out, the nipples hard and eager. She leaned back into me, pressing her ass against my cock, and whispered, “Thank you, baby.”

The air was charged with an electric tension as we both knew what was to come. Melanie sat on the edge of the bed, her legs spread slightly, giving me a glimpse of her wetness. She reached for my cock again, stroking it gently. “But remember,” she said, her voice a seductive purr, “you can’t touch me.”

 I nodded, my eyes never leaving the reflection of her body in the mirror. She was a goddess, a creature of pure desire, and I was about to witness her in the throes of passion with another man.

Melanie picked up her phone from the nightstand, and I watched as she typed out a message with a knowing smile. The anticipation was unbearable, the silence in the room deafening. Moments later, the doorbell rang, sending a jolt of adrenaline through my body. She sauntered over to the door, her hips moving in a way that made the silk of her nightgown glide across her skin like a lover’s caress. My heart pounded as she opened the door, revealing John, tall and muscular, with a smug smile that spoke of his victory over me.

He stepped into the room, his eyes immediately finding mine, a silent acknowledgment of the power exchange that was about to unfold.

Melanie turned to me, her hand still resting on the door handle. “You can stay here, or you can join us in the living room,” she said, her voice a siren’s call laden with temptation. “But remember, you can’t touch.”

With trembling hands, I adjusted my pajama bottoms, trying to hide the bulge that had formed. The scent of her arousal filled the air, a potent aphrodisiac that made it difficult to think straight. I nodded, unable to find the words to respond. She stepped aside, allowing John to enter, and closed the door behind him.

John’s gaze raked over me, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. He was everything Melanie had described and more—his confidence was palpable, his presence dominating the room. He walked over to Melanie, his eyes never leaving mine, and placed a possessive hand on her hip.

“Ready to show him what a good girl you are?” he asked, his voice deep and commanding.

Melanie nodded, her own smile matching his in arrogance. “Oh, I’m more than ready,” she said, her voice dripping with anticipation. She turned to me, her eyes shimmering with lust. “Why don’t you go sit on the couch, sweetheart?”I

did as I was told, my legs shaking slightly as I made my way to the living room. I sat down, my heart racing, as Melanie led John to the chair opposite the couch. She positioned herself on his lap, straddling him, her nightgown riding up to expose her bare ass. His hands immediately found her hips, gripping them tightly as he pulled her closer. The fabric of the couch felt rough against my skin, a stark contrast to the softness of Melanie’s flesh.

The sight of them together was almost too much to handle. John’s strong hands roaming over her body, his thumbs brushing the tops of her thighs, pushing the silk aside to reveal more of her creamy skin. Melanie leaned back, her head thrown back in pleasure, her eyes never leaving mine as John’s hands moved up to cup her breasts. He squeezed them gently, eliciting a soft moan from her that seemed to resonate deep within me.

I watched, transfixed, as he unhooked her bra, letting her breasts fall free. They were perfect, the kind of breasts that men wrote sonnets about, and here they were, on display for both of us. He took one in his mouth, suckling it as his hand moved to her other nipple, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. Melanie’s hips began to rock against him, the fabric of her panties rubbing against the fabric of his pants. I could see the outline of his cock, thick and demanding, straining against the material.

John looked up at me, his eyes dark with lust. “You like watching, don’t you?” he murmured, his voice low and taunting. 

Melanie giggled, a sound that sent a shiver down my spine. “He does,” she said, her voice breathless. “He’s always been a bit of a voyeur.”

John’s smirk grew as he reached up to slide the nightgown off her shoulders, revealing her fully to me. Her breasts bounced free, the nipples dark and hard with desire. He leaned in, his teeth grazing the sensitive flesh, making her gasp. “Is that true?” he asked, his mouth still on her skin.

I nodded, unable to tear my eyes away from the erotic tableau playing out before me. “Yes,” I murmured, my voice thick with lust. “I like watching.”

Melanie’s eyes sparkled with delight, and she leaned back further, arching her back so that her breasts were thrust up towards John’s eager mouth.

He took full advantage, his teeth and tongue teasing her nipples until she was squirming in his lap. Her hand slipped between her legs, and I watched as she began to rub her clit, her eyes never leaving mine. The sight was almost too much to bear, but I obeyed her command, my own hands clenched into fists at my sides.

John reached down, his hand joining hers, and together they worked her pussy. She was wet and slick, her juices coating their fingers as they moved in unison. The sound of her pleasure filled the room, a symphony of gasps and moans that grew louder with every passing moment. I felt my cock throb in time with her movements, desperate for release but denied by the rules of our new game.

Melanie’s eyes never left mine as John stood, lifting her with ease. She wrapped her legs around his waist, her panties damp with desire. He carried her to the couch, placing her down so that she was straddling me. The heat of her sex was palpable, the dampness of her panties pressing against my thighs. She leaned down, her breasts brushing against my chest, and kissed me deeply. Her tongue danced with mine, tasting of him, and I felt a strange mix of anger and arousal.

John knelt beside us, his eyes on Melanie’s ass as he slid her panties down her legs. The sight of her bare pussy so close to my face was exquisite torture. He spread her cheeks apart, revealing her tight, puckered asshole and the slickness of her pussy. “You want him to see how much I own you?” he whispered in her ear, his breath hot against her neck.Melanie nodded, her eyes glazed with passion. “Yes,” she breathed. “I want him to see how much you make me cum.”John’s hand slid down her body, his thumb circling her clit as he whispered in her ear. Her hips began to rock against me, her movements erratic with need. “Tell him how much you want me to fuck you,” he murmured, his voice a dark promise.

Melanie’s eyes never left mine as she spoke. “I want you to fuck me, John,” she said, her voice a plea. “I want you to fill me up, make me scream.”

John chuckled darkly, his eyes gleaming with lust. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a condom, ripping it open with his teeth. He rolled it onto his thick cock, the latex stretching over his length. Melanie watched with hungry eyes, her own hands clutching at the couch cushions.

“Now, baby,” she said, her voice a seductive whisper, “now you can watch me get what I need.”

John positioned himself at the edge of the couch, his cock pointing up like a spear. Melanie took a deep breath, her eyes fluttering closed as she lowered herself onto him. The sound of her wetness enveloping his length was obscene in its beauty, and I felt a strange sense of pride knowing that she had chosen me to witness this moment. Her eyes snapped open, locking onto mine as he filled her completely. She let out a soft moan, her body tensing for a moment before she began to move, her hips rising and falling in a rhythm that was both mesmerizing and maddening.

I could feel the heat of her against my thighs, her breath hot on my neck as she rode him. His hands were everywhere, cupping her breasts, squeezing her ass, guiding her movements. Her nails dug into the couch as she picked up the pace, her moans growing louder with every thrust. The sight of her riding him, her body bouncing and jiggling with every movement, was more arousing than I could have ever imagined.John’s eyes never left Melanie’s, but I could feel them on me, watching me watch her. He knew I was there, knew I was hard and desperate, and he reveled in it. He was claiming her in front of me, marking her as his own, and she was loving every second of it. The power dynamics in the room had shifted, and I was suddenly the one being dominated, the one being used for their pleasure.

Melanie’s movements grew more erratic, her breathing more ragged. Her eyes closed tightly as she approached climax, her body taut and trembling. I could feel the vibrations of her pleasure through the couch, and it was all I could do to keep my hands at my sides, to not reach out and touch her. The smell of sex filled the room, a heady scent that made my head spin.

John’s eyes never left Melanie’s, but I could feel his gaze on me, too, challenging me to break the rules. His hand moved to her ass, spreading her cheeks as he pushed deeper inside her. Her moans grew louder, her breaths coming in gasps.

“Look at him, baby,” John said, his voice a low growl. “Look at how hard he is watching you get fucked.”

Melanie’s eyes flickered to me, and she bit her lip, a wicked smile playing across her face. She leaned back, her breasts bouncing with every thrust, and took my cock in her hand. Her grip was firm, her movements slow and deliberate as she stroked me in time with John’s thrusts. “You like watching me, don’t you?” she panted, her voice a tease. “You like seeing how much I enjoy being filled by another man?”

I nodded, unable to speak, the sensation of her hand on my cock too intense. She leaned in closer, her breath hot in my ear. “Do you want to taste him?” she whispered, her voice a seductive invitation. “Do you want to see what makes me scream?”

The question hung in the air, a challenge and a promise. I nodded again, my throat tight with desire. John pulled out of her, his cock glistening with her juices, and moved to stand in front of me. Melanie knelt beside him, her hand never leaving my cock as she took his in her mouth, her eyes locked on mine.

Her movements were practiced, her lips sliding up and down his length with ease. The sight of her taking him deep, her cheeks hollowing as she sucked, was almost too much to bear. I watched, my own cock throbbing in her hand, as she worked him with the skill of a seasoned lover. She glanced up at me, her eyes filled with mischief, and I knew she was enjoying every second of my torment.

John’s hand found its way to the back of her head, guiding her movements, pushing her down further until she was deep-throating him.

The sounds of her gagging were obscene, but I couldn’t look away. My cock was painfully hard, the fabric of my pajamas rubbing against it with every twitch. Melanie’s eyes watered, but she never broke eye contact with me, her mouth stretched wide around his cock.

As she sucked him off, her hand never left my cock. She stroked me in time with her bobbing head, the sensation of her soft, wet mouth on him mirrored by her firm grip on me. I could feel the tension building, the orgasm threatening to overtake me. “Mel, I’m gonna cum,” I warned, my voice strained.

“Not yet,” she murmured around John’s cock, her eyes flicking up to meet mine. She released him with a wet pop, a string of saliva connecting her lips to his glistening tip. “You can’t cum until I tell you,” she said, her voice firm. “You’re here to watch, remember?”

John chuckled, his eyes gleaming with amusement. He leaned down to kiss Melanie, his tongue delving into her mouth, tasting himself on her. They broke apart, both breathing heavily, and he positioned her on the couch, her legs spread wide. “Your turn,” he said, turning to me.

The power in his voice was undeniable, and I felt a strange mix of fear and excitement. He stepped aside, gesturing to his cock, which was still rock-hard and glistening with Melanie’s saliva. She watched me with a look of pure, unbridled lust, her eyes daring me to take the next step. With trembling hands, I leaned in, my mouth watering at the thought of tasting her on him.

I took John’s cock in my mouth, feeling the heat and power of his dominance. Melanie’s flavor was intoxicating, a heady mix of desire and submission that only served to drive me further into the depths of our shared kink. His hand found the back of my head, guiding me, pushing me deeper. I could feel the muscles in my throat strain as I took him, my eyes never leaving Melanie’s.

Her hand found my hair, twisting it gently, egging me on. Her other hand went back to her own pussy, her fingers sliding in and out of herself with a wet, obscene sound that made my own cock throb. I could feel the tension in John’s thighs, his grip on my hair tightening as he approached climax. The salty taste of his precum filled my mouth, mingling with Melanie’s sweetness.

As I took him deeper, Melanie leaned in, her breasts brushing against my cheek as she whispered in my ear. “You’re such a good boy,” she breathed, her voice thick with lust. “Sucking him off while he fucks me…it’s so hot.” Her words were a drug, a potent cocktail of love and degradation that sent me spiraling.

John’s cock grew thicker in my mouth, his hips bucking slightly as he neared his peak. Melanie’s hand tightened in my hair, urging me on, her own climax building as she watched the scene unfold. I could feel her wetness on my thigh, the heat of her pussy against my skin as she rode the edge.

Suddenly, John pulled out of my mouth with a groan. “I’m going to cum,” he said, his voice strained with need. Melanie’s eyes flashed with excitement, and she took over, her mouth wrapping around him eagerly. She sucked him hard, her cheeks hollowing as she took him all the way down.

John’s hands tangled in her hair, his hips jerking as he came, spilling his seed into her mouth. She swallowed it all, her eyes never leaving mine, a look of triumph on her face. I felt a strange sense of satisfaction, watching her take him in, knowing that she was doing it for me, for us.

As he pulled out, gasping for breath, Melanie turned to me, a hint of a challenge in her eyes. “Now, it’s your turn,” she said, her voice still thick with arousal. “But remember, you can’t touch me.”

John stepped aside, allowing me to take his place on the couch. Melanie straddled me, her wetness coating my thighs as she positioned herself over my cock. She was so close, so tempting, and yet the rules of our game held me in check. I could feel the heat of her, the desire radiating from her body, but I kept my hands at my sides, my fingers curling into the fabric of the couch.

John watched us, his cock still semi-hard, a smug look on his face. He knew he had claimed her, marked her as his, and now it was my turn to witness it. Melanie leaned back, her breasts brushing against my chest, and began to lower herself onto me. The sensation of her tight pussy enveloping my cock was exquisite, a mix of pain and pleasure that I had never felt before. She was so wet, so ready, and the thought of her being this way for him only heightened my arousal.

I could feel the condom still on John’s cock, a stark reminder of his presence, even as I was the one filling her. She moaned, her eyes closed, her head thrown back in ecstasy. I wanted to touch her, to claim her in the same way he had, but I knew that was not allowed. Instead, I focused on the feeling of her around me, the way her pussy tightened and released as she rode me.

Her breasts bounced with every movement, the fabric of her nightgown clinging to her skin. John’s eyes never left us, his hand stroking his cock as he watched. The sight of him, still partially dressed, only added to the intensity of the moment. I was the one inside her, but he was the one in control.

Melanie’s movements grew more frantic, her moans louder. “Fuck me, baby,” she panted, her eyes still closed. “Fuck me like he did.” The words were a knife to my heart, but they only made me thrust deeper, my cock swelling with every stroke. I could feel her pussy tightening around me, her orgasm building like a storm.

John stepped closer, his hand reaching out to cup one of her breasts. He pinched her nipple, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger until she gasped. “Look at him,” he said, his voice low and commanding. “Look at how hard he is for you.”

Melanie’s eyes snapped open, her gaze locking onto mine. The intensity in her stare was almost too much to handle, a silent challenge that made me want to break every rule she had set. I watched as John’s hand moved to her other breast, his fingers playing with the hardened peak. Her moans grew louder, her body responding to his touch even as she was impaled on my cock.

With every thrust, I could feel her pussy tighten around me, the friction building to an unbearable crescendo. I was lost in the sensation, the sound of our bodies colliding filling the room. Her breasts swayed in time with our movements, the sight of John’s hand on her skin driving me closer to the edge. I fought the urge to touch her, my hands clenched into fists at my sides, my knuckles white with the effort.

Melanie’s eyes searched mine, her pupils dilated with lust. “Do you like watching me with him?” she asked, her voice a breathy whisper. I nodded, unable to form the words to express the tumult of emotions raging within me. She leaned in, her breath hot against my ear. “Do you want to feel him, too?”

Her question was like a lightning bolt, illuminating a desire I had never dared to acknowledge. John stepped closer, his cock still hard and gleaming in the dim light. He reached out, placing his hand on Melanie’s back, guiding her movements, pushing her down onto me. I could feel his touch through her, the weight of his hand a symbol of his ownership.

Melanie’s eyes never left mine as she rode me, her breath coming in ragged gasps. John leaned in, his breath warm on my neck, his hand moving to stroke my cheek. “Do you want to feel me?” he whispered, his voice a dark seduction. “Do you want to know what it’s like to be a true cuckold?”

The word sent a shiver down my spine, a mix of fear and excitement. I had never considered taking things this far, but the idea of John’s touch, of feeling his dominance over me, was suddenly irresistible. I nodded, my voice a whimper of consent.

John’s hand moved from my cheek to my chest, his fingers tracing the outline of my pectorals before moving lower. He gripped my cock, his touch firm and sure, guiding it in and out of Melanie’s tight, wet pussy. The sensation of his hand on me was foreign and exhilarating, a new dimension to our shared experience. His thumb brushed against the base of my shaft, sending waves of pleasure through me that were almost too much to handle.

“Look at you,” he murmured, his breath hot on my neck. “So eager to please, to share your wife with me.” His words were a dark whisper, a spell that bound me to the moment. Melanie’s eyes grew wider, watching the scene unfold with a mix of shock and arousal. Her hips moved faster, grinding against me as John’s hand worked me like a marionette.

I could feel the tension building, the orgasm that had been held at bay by the rules of our twisted game now threatening to crash over me like a tidal wave. Melanie’s pussy tightened around me, her muscles contracting as she neared her own climax. John’s hand moved from my cock to her clit, his thumb circling the sensitive bud with a mastery that made me ache. She threw her head back, her moans growing louder, her eyes squeezed shut.

The room was a symphony of sensation—Melanie’s wetness, John’s firm grip on my cock, the sound of skin slapping against skin. And through it all, the unspoken tension that bound us together. The moment stretched out, a delicious agony of anticipation. And then, with a final, desperate thrust, I felt her clench around me, her entire body seizing up as she came.

Her orgasm triggered my own, a white-hot explosion that seemed to rip through me. I threw my head back, my hips bucking upward, filling her with everything I had. John’s hand tightened around me, guiding my cock as I emptied into her, my pleasure a silent shout that seemed to echo in the room.

For a moment, we were all still, the only sound our ragged breathing. Then, Melanie leaned down, her mouth finding mine in a kiss that was at once gentle and demanding. Our tongues danced together, tasting the remnants of John’s cum, mixing with our own juices. It was a kiss that claimed me, marked me as hers, even as she shared herself with another.

John’s hand remained on my cock, his thumb lazily stroking my sensitive flesh as we kissed. I could feel him watching us, his eyes taking in every detail of our intimate embrace. The thought of his gaze on us, the knowledge that he had claimed her first, only made me harder. It was a twisted dance of power and submission, one that we were all eagerly engaged in.

When Melanie pulled away, she looked at me with a look that was both fierce and loving. “You’re mine,” she whispered, her voice a seductive promise. “But tonight, I want to be his.” She turned to John, her eyes shimmering with desire. “Fuck me,” she said, her voice a whip crack that sent a thrill through my body.

“You can sleep in the guest room tonight”, she said looking. “John and I will fuck again in our bed. You can jackoff if you want to.”

I nodded, my body still trembling from the intensity of our shared climax. As Melanie slipped off my cock, John stepped closer, a predatory gleam in his eyes. He removed the condom, his cock still hard and demanding. Melanie stood, her legs wobbly, and took his hand, leading him to our bed. The sight of them walking away, her hand in his, was a dagger to my heart, but it was a pain that I found myself craving.

In the guest room, I lay on the small, unfamiliar bed, listening to the muffled sounds of their lovemaking through the walls. The bed was cold and unyielding, a stark contrast to the warmth and passion that filled our marital bed. I reached into my pajama pants, my hand wrapping around my still-hard cock. The ache was a constant reminder of the role I had chosen for myself—the watcher, the one denied. But with every stroke, every whimper that carried through the air, the ache grew, a delicious torment that fueled my desire.