I Become A Party Favor

My husband loves the hotwife lifestyle. It was all his idea, obviously. These arrangements usually are the man’s idea. But I’m not complaining. I mean, I don’t mind being shared — actually, I’ve kinda come to like it — but it was always his lust, his scheming, his insatiable desire for excess that launched us into a sex life that was far from conventional.

I had my slutty phase in college, but those days were now a decade behind me. Truly, I could’ve been happy riding into the sunset in monogamous (well, maybe just monogam-ish) marital bliss. My husband had other plans for me.

It started off slow. Filthy confessions, dirty talk, public flashing, and eventually threesomes. First with another girl, then with another guy. He liked fucking two women at once. I wasn’t as crazy about it, feeling more than a little jealous as I bit my lip and watched him rail the tight little Mexican teenage slut we’d picked up off Tinder. I don’t even remember her name. Weird detail about that threesome — that bitch ate out my pussy better than anyone, man or woman, ever has since. I couldn’t tell you what she did, exactly. She just…she knew what she was doing. I’ve never cum harder from oral sex. It almost made me forget my burning jealous rage at watching my husband drain his balls in her teenage pussy. The fucking harlot.

Well, it’s not like it was his fault. He wasn’t specifically looking to bang a high school senior. He was just looking for any cutie who could meet up that late summer night on short notice. I’d been a reticent about the idea when he brought it up the week prior. But that night, unexpectedly, I gave him the green light; and an hour later — with my help, of course — he pulled an 18 year old dark-haired Latina nympho who could eat pussy like no one else on planet earth. Even though she made me see stars with her tongue, that was the last we ever saw of her. Whore.

After that night, my (very understanding) husband didn’t ask for another FFM threesome. He knew I was a bit insecure and that I didn’t like seeing him with another woman, so he didn’t push the issue. I felt bad. He didn’t have any problem with me seeing women on the side, which I kept doing on my own time. If he was lucky, he got the occasional photo or very short video from my bisexual escapades. Usually, it was just stories. He loved getting his dick stroked and sucked while I told him about my girlfriends — the romance, the sex, the thrill of being in love with a woman when you already belonged to a man. He loved sharing me with women.

He especially liked Abby, my first and most enduring lesbian lover. She was thin, dark hair, petite breasts with small rosebud titties. God, I loved to suck on them. I lustfully ran my tongue along her perky, cute little boobs in her bedroom, on the beach, in her beaten-up old car… It wasn’t just about the sex, though. I was in love with her. We wrote each other long letters, hid away in the sand dunes for hours and hours, and we fucked each other into transcendent bliss, all away from the gaze of our husbands.

Well, most of the time. My husband has seen her nudes, and I’m sure her husband has seen mine. And there was that one time…