Tales

It goes on like this all week. When I wake up in the morning, Thomas is gone. I assume he's at work, but he doesn't talk much about what he does in the daytime anymore. Instead, he asks me in detail about how my day was.

And for me, it's always the same.

As soon as Dirk and I meet in the apartment for the first time, we have sex. No matter where. In the bedroom, in the hallway, in the bathroom, in the kitchen, in the living room.

Why am I letting this happen? I can't do anything about it. As soon as he touches me, my body goes into sex mode. It's as if he flips a switch. My mind is immediately clouded. My knees go weak, my pussy gets hot and wet, my nipples are instantly rock hard, and my heart races like crazy. No wonder, because feeling Dirk's fat cock inside me is just amazing. Just thinking about how it feels makes my tummy tingle. As soon as he's inside me, I go off like a rocket. There's no stopping until I inevitably orgasm. The bliss he gives me is impossible to describe.

I'd have to be a saint not to give in to it.

He doesn't always take me right away. Often he pushes me to my knees in front of him or sits down with his legs spread and beckons with a finger. I know what I have to do then.

I open his pants. Or his bathrobe. Whatever he's wearing. Sometimes nothing at all. Shamelessly, I take his cock in my hand. Most of the time, it's already hard. If not, I jerk him off a few times until it stiffens. I stick out my tongue and lick him until he's nice and wet and shiny.

My mouth willingly takes him in. I suck and lick, caressing his balls and rubbing his shaft. By now, I know only too well how he likes it. His quickening breath confirms it. The salty drops on my tongue. He hardly ever says anything. A rare compliment, and I feel an incredible sense of pride inside me. Because if I make him happy, I can hope that he'll fuck me again soon, until I climax screaming underneath him.

Actually, I should be ashamed. I am a married woman. A self-confident woman. And I let him treat me like a whore.

No, I am his whore. Only he doesn't pay me with money, but with orgasms.

I tell Thomas all this in the evening when he comes home. And I can see what's going through his mind. I see the blush creeping up his neck. His breathing quickens. His eyes shine. It doesn't take long before he reaches into his crotch, fumbling with his dick through his pants. He still has enough control not to take it out and start jerking off in front of me.

He touches himself. Not me anymore.

Instead, Thomas waits until Dirk takes me. He rarely has to wait long. Dirk's appetite seems insatiable. He fucks me on the carpet, on the table, on the sofa. He knows no shame and no restraint.

Thomas sits or stands next to us and watches. Jerking off. His face is red and his eyes are glazed over. He's usually the first of the three of us to cum.

What's wrong with you, Thomas? I'm almost ashamed of him. I wish he would stand up like a man and throw Dirk out. But I know that won't happen. And I don't want it to. I can't do without Dirk's cock anymore, I'm addicted to it.

At night, in the darkness of our marital bed, Thomas asks me to tell him again in detail how it feels when his best friend fucks me. The movements and noises Thomas makes tell me that he is masturbating while I talk. Until he gasps, turns over, and falls asleep.

I lie awake and stare at the ceiling.

There's one thing I never tell Thomas.

This one thing that I myself don't understand why Dirk makes me do it and why I go along with it.

Every day, Dirk gives me one of Sina's panties and I have to pull them on. I wear them until either I cum or Dirk finishes inside me.

The wet, dirty piece of fabric goes into a bag and disappears. None of the panties go into the laundry. I have no idea where he keeps them or what he plans to do with them.

Does that bother me? Yes, of course. Could I refuse?

You tell me!