Go beserk.

“You … WHAT!” I screamed and bucked, trying to get her off my sticky cock, still embedded in her twat.

Cathy snickered, rolling off me as she gauged my reaction. She tossed her hair back, flinging it wildly, making her tits jiggle. “Whew! Pretty good story, huh?”

I was about to slap her across the face and call her every name in the book, when I noticed her laughing. “A story?” I asked.

Again, Cathy giggled, and lazily stroked her fingers against my deflated cock, still coated with our recent fuck juices. “Got you pretty worked up, huh?”

I had to admit, she was right. It was the hottest sex we’ve had in quite a while. My heart was recovering from the sudden adrenaline rush, as I lay there reflecting on Cathy’s story. She kissed me good night, rolled over and turned out the light. I, meanwhile, fought with my mixed feelings as to what just happened. Was it just a story? Did she say it was a story, just to keep me from knowing the truth? Did she let the bartender eat her pussy? Did she let him do anything else? Did she fuck him? What about Tony? Did she fuck Tony too? Did Linda join in?

The more questions I asked myself, the more images kept popping into my head. I kept envisioning Cathy being eaten out by the two unknown men, being fucked by their cocks, sucking their steel shafts, and licking out Linda. The more I thought about it, the harder my cock got. I had to shake the smoke from my head to try and understand my feelings.

The thought of watching Cathy with someone else, while disturbing in thought and hurting my heart, was making my cock rock solid. I tossed and turned, until I finally fell asleep, destined to dream about my wife in the throes of passion, with someone else.

It was sometime in the middle of the night, when I reached over, and realized Cathy was not in bed. The emptiness woke me from my fitful sleep. I looked around the darkened room for some indication of where she might be, perhaps the bathroom. She was not there. It was then, that I realized she was in the hallway. I could hear her footsteps across the carpeted floor, along with her whispering voice on the telephone. Who could she be talking to at this hour of the night? And, why was she whispering, out in the hallway? I was about to call out to her, when I thought twice about it. I decided to try and eavesdrop on the conversation. Cathy had the bedroom phone, so I concentrated on her whispers.

“Yeah … It was great … I had a fantastic time … It was so awesome, we’ve got to do it again … Never better … Sure … Maybe this week … I’d like that … Definitely … I’ll see you then.”