Preparations for a threesome

Lately, my wife has been talking almost exclusively about Leonie. Leonie this, Leonie that. How funny she is, how open, how well they get along. At one point, she even showed me a blurry photo on her phone. A really pretty woman with very short, sassy brown hair and big dark sunglasses. You could barely see her face—but her body was to die for. Slim, athletic, small firm tits, long neck, hot ass in a skimpy bikini. The two of them had apparently been at some lake while I was back at the office finishing up work for Leon.

At some point, I couldn’t take it anymore and asked her straight out:

“Tell me… is there actually something going on between you two?”

She turned bright red. Really deep red. She stammered at first, then lowered her gaze and whispered:

“No… there’s nothing going on. But if I’m honest… I wish there was.”

In that moment, I immediately got a huge, rock-hard erection in my pants. My wife noticed it right away and smiled mischievously.

“You little pig… You get hard when I tell you I want to make out with another woman?”

I just nodded. My mouth was dry.

“And what if I let you make out with Leonie?”

She bit her lip. “Really?”

“Really.”

From then on, everything happened very quickly.

I kissed her wildly, while in my head I was already positioning the cameras in the bedroom—small, inconspicuous models that I’d had on hand for exactly such moments for a long time. Above the bed, in the closet, one in the bathroom, one with a good view of the armchair. All 4K, all with sound.

“If you really want it, then let’s go through with it,” I said. “Bring her here. Seduce her. I’ll even help you.”

She looked at me with wide, incredulous eyes. I gave her tips: “Put on something comfortable, but sexy. Chill the champagne. Start here in the living room, caress each other, kiss each other. And then you’ll end up in bed. Our bed.”

“In our bed?” she asked quietly.

“Yes. Right there.”

“And you?”

“I have to work anyway. Leon probably has a new assignment again. I’ll be in the studio; you’ll have the whole bedroom to yourselves. Completely undisturbed.”

She hesitated only briefly, then kissed me so passionately and gratefully, the way she hadn’t in a long time. The next day, she dressed up really nicely for her first real date with Leonie.

My ulterior motives were crystal clear:

As soon as the two of them started making out, I wouldn’t just watch. I would film everything. Every moan. Every kiss. Every finger sliding into my wife. Every tongue running over her body. Videos. Forever. To watch again. To jerk off to. To enjoy. Plus, this increased the chances of a threesome. My wife closed the door behind her to pick up Leonie.

I sat in the studio, opened the camera app on my second monitor, and waited. I’d sat back down at the computer and edited a new set of Leon’s.

The same three black guys again. This time it looked like a luxurious spa—subdued lighting, steam, white tiles, massage tables. The woman had red hair, was slim, of average height, and for a brief, jarring moment I thought she looked like my little sister. The same snub nose, the same fair skin, the same way she opened her mouth. I zoomed in really close, my heart pounding in my throat.

No. It wasn’t her. Just the initial shock. Thank God.

Still, a strange feeling lingered. I got to work anyway, applying extra moisture, tracing the veins more deeply, enhancing the sheen on the thick black cocks. This time I didn’t have to add much cum—most of it was real. Thick, white drops were already running out of her pussy and her ass, pulling long strings, while she lay on the couch, completely spent and fucked to the bone. I just made it even more beautiful. More perfect. Hotter.

Every now and then, I kept glancing at the second monitor.

The cameras in the bedroom remained black. No light, no movement.

I knew that my wife and Leonie wanted to have cocktails first, then watch a racy movie at the theater—the kind you can just barely get away with watching “with your girlfriend.” After that, they were supposed to come here.

11:30 p.m.

The movie had been over for at least an hour.

I resisted the urge to text her several times. Instead, I sat there, my cock half-hard in my pants, staring alternately at the red-faced redhead on the screen and the black monitor of the bedroom cameras.

At some point, I must have fallen asleep, my head resting on my arm, the scent of coconut and Mia still in my nose.

When I woke up, it was light out. Around half past seven in the morning. I crept quietly into the bedroom. My wife was lying on her back, fast asleep. She had taken off her dress and was now wearing sinfully sexy white lingerie: garter belt, hold-up stockings, a delicate bra that barely covered her tits—and no panties. Her pussy was clearly reddened, her labia slightly swollen, but she didn’t look like she’d been fucked senseless. No cum, no marks. A good sign.

I wanted to wake her up; my hand was already sliding over her thigh, but she pushed me away immediately. “Don’t… I feel sick,” she muttered in a raspy voice. “Drank way too much. Just let me lie here.”

I covered her up, darkened the room, and left her alone. It wasn’t until early evening that she finally came out of the bedroom, took a shower, slipped on a loose robe, and sat down next to me on the sofa with a cup of tea. She still looked a little pale, but her eyes were sparkling again. I looked at her questioningly.

“Do you really want to know?” she asked quietly.

“Yes. We’re married. I want to hear everything.”

She took a deep breath and began to tell her story.