So, I dried off and we snuck back into the bedroom together. There she was as I left her, asleep, laying on her back with her legs spread wide open. At this point the little bit of cum that I shot into her was leaking out with all the pussy juice from her three orgasms. It was a sight to see. Anthony looked over at me and said "that pussy looks sweet, fucking hot." I noticed he moved closer and started stroking his cock. He said "I was a good man for letting him get some relief". He said "I totally understand if you say no, but can I take a closer look?" I told "him sure, but no touching". I think it would have been awesome to let my buddy stick a finger or two in her wet hole and play with her. I would have no problem and actually look forward to it possibly happening in the future. But, she would have killed me if she would have woke up unexpectedly to find us violating her. He moved closer, about six inches from her gapping hole. He looked up and ask me if he could smell it. I. For a moment, he simply looked, as if she was wearing jeans and a jumper. And then he realised something was different. He looked down at the two creamy mountains vying for his attention, at the little curved belly, and at the barely-there drift of lace hardly covering his wife’s “personal area”. He couldn’t ever call it anything else. A creeping blush rose on his cheeks. He stared between her legs with his mouth slightly open. His eyes attempted to drag themselves back up to her breasts, but didn’t quite make it, every time bouncing back down to the small triangle. The kettle reached boiling point, thundering its steamy chaos into the silence, and giving an almighty click as it reached climax. “Well?” she demanded. He still couldn’t bring his eyes up, magnetised by the alien fabric barely covering her. She took a deep breath, and took the leap into the realm of getting what she’d fantasised about for months. “Are you going to fuck me or what?” He gaped at her. They had always.
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