EROTICA / HOTWIFE / MENAGE
Make Me Jealous
Husband and wife play a saucy little game between themselves, as two virile college hunks start hitting on her at the pool
Taking a vacation in a place like that, during Spring Break — it probably wasn’t the best of ideas. But we figured we’d probably just stay in the resort anyway, how would it affect us?
But some college guys on Spring Break don’t respect boundaries like in the resort or outside the resort. Some of them have trust funds, and designer clothing, and year-round tans and Rolex watches, and they can afford to stay in the resort, and use it as their base for Spring Break.
So there Michelle and I were, lounging out by the pool, and our peace and quiet was pierced by the sounds of youth frolicking in the water, whooping and cheering and laughing it up as though they had something to celebrate.
We shouldn’t have been surprised.
We probably would have been bothered by it, particularly since it started from day one of our stay. Except that during the first afternoon, while I had retreated to some nearby shade, a couple of bros came up to ask Michelle if she’d let one of them buy her a drink. She just seemed delighted that they had mistakenly believed her to be another college kid, like them.
Well, she did look good in a bikini.
It was amusing at first. She teased me by saying she’d let them both buy her a drink if they liked. Then I watched them all saunter over to the poolside bar for mojitos and pina coladas, and Michelle was flirting with them in order to tease me.
Trying to make me jealous.
Interesting. She’d never done that before.
Surprisingly, I wasn’t jealous. I actually took it as a good sign — that she was in the mood for sex, or might be soon. That she was trying to provoke me in order to get me going. I liked that.
And didn’t I mention, she looked seriously good in her bikini?
I think my unexpected calm in watching her have a few drinks with those young men disappointed her. She texted me, asking if I was okay. I replied, absolutely dandy. She texted me back saying neither of those guys could take their eyes off her tits. I replied saying I wasn’t surprised, they were great tits.
I was probably supposed to be more outraged. More possessive. Women want men to be territorial over them, don’t they?
She tried to shock me. She agreed to another round of drinks and told me by text that both of them were competing for her. I asked her which one she would prefer. She said they were both pretty hunky, and then I watched her reaching out to touch one guy’s biceps, and then the other’s.
I texted her back, saying, well maybe you should let them both have you.
She stroked their pecs as though she was prodding cattle prior to an auction. She dipped her eyes down to quite blatantly assess the size and nature of what they were stowing in their swim trunks.
It was supposed to make me jump up, storm over there and drag her away, angrily declaring to all who could hear that she was my wife.
But I merely lay there on my sun lounger, feeling strangely aroused, catching my breath every time I watched her flirt with them, enjoying the fact that these ripped, Adonis-like young men wanted my wife so badly.
A little later, as the sun was starting to go down, and the three of them were starting on their third (or fourth?) round of cocktails — languishing on the edge of the pool by now.
Michelle let me know that they had asked her, straight out, which one of them she’d sleep with.
Those entitled frat boys, they could be so forward.
Concealing my erection with a subtly raised knee, I replied to her message to suggest that she invite them both back to the room for a little Spring Break magic.
I watched her smile as she read my message, apparently not worried she was texting someone else right in front of them. Well, college kids are glued to their phones, aren’t they? They’re constantly texting someone.
I liked making her smile like that. Genuinely amused, perhaps even a little amazed.
I hoped that letting her continue to flirt with those guys, to lead them on, might be getting her a little damp between the thighs. And the way she was sitting there by the side of the pool, squeezing her gorgeous legs together, I suspected that I was succeeding.
Now she flicked her eyes over in my direction as she said something to them. I felt the heat of the limelight on me as the two guys turned to look at me. I was guessing she’d told them about me. That’s my husband over there.
They seemed surprised. They seemed a little confused. Bewildered. I enjoyed it very much. They looked at each other as though to ask if they’d really heard her say what they thought they’d heard her say.
Michelle giggled, and pulled herself up from the edge of the pool before sauntering back over to the bar deposit her empty mojito glass. Then she casually padded around the pool back toward me. Oh what joy, to take in the interest of those two jocks, their eyes riveted to her ass as she returned to her somewhat nerdy husband.
‘What did you say to them?’ I asked her when she reached me, and resumed her position on the lounger beside me.
She laughed — such a joyous sound.
‘I told them they could both fuck me if they liked — but only if my husband could watch.’
I stifled a gasp. She’d fired a powerful shot in our running game of chicken.
Perhaps the winning shot. How could I possibly recover the lead after that?
But then, to both of our surprise, we saw those two muscle-bound young studs walk purposefully around the pool toward us, and then they were standing in front of us, saying, assertively, ‘Okay, we’ll do it.’
And here was me, winning our little game, getting up from my sun lounger, turning to a shocked Michelle to say, ‘Well, okay, then, let’s go.’
It seemed to take a moment for what I said to sink in. Then the two guys looked at each other, broad smiles of victory breaking out on their handsome faces.
Michelle got up, too, casting me a fiery look that silently demanded to know what the heck I thought I was up to. But she had led them on. And now, she could either go with it, or admit she’d been leading them on, and her pride was keeping her from any kind of confession.
Had I won the game?
Maybe the game wasn’t over. Or maybe Michelle wanted revenge for my playing dirty.
She relaxed, and embraced the situation, and now she was leading the rest of us to the elevators, and halfway up to our floor, she was asking them if they had protection. Well, now she was daring me to bring all this lunacy to a halt. Our college friends — Pete and Greg, I now knew — both confirmed that they had protection with them.
College guys on Spring Break wearing nothing but swim trunks — but they had condoms in their pockets, just in case. Go figure. I was never like that in college.
Then we were in our room, cracking open the mini bar, and Michelle was sitting between them on the leather couch, one knee raised to draw attention to her beautiful legs, giggling at whatever they said, while I sat in the armchair, still hiding my hard-on.
She was teaching me a lesson. Waiting for me to flake out, and suddenly demand that our guests leave.
She was still betting that I’d been bluffing all along.
But I was holding firm. I was loving the sight of her flirting with them — and she wasn’t faking that flirtation, she wasn’t faking enjoyment at flirting with them. She wasn’t faking her attraction toward them.
She brushed her hair back behind an ear and then leaned in to plant a mischievous little kiss on Pete’s lips. Then she gave a little faux-coy look and turned to give Greg the same, as though worried he’d think her unfair. Cue the glance over to me to see whether I was horrified. I wasn’t. I gave her an encouraging smile.
She turned back to Pete, and touched his chin, gently turning his head toward her for a longer kiss. He went for it, his hand moving to her thigh, while hers pulled him in for a full make-out session.
I caught my breath, wondering when the jealousy would kick in. It didn’t. My heart was racing, my thick manhood was throbbing, I had never seen anything so hot before.
Michelle turned to offer Greg the same opportunity, and he took it up without hesitation. God. They were making out. There were tongues. I wanted my wife to do this. That wasn’t right, was it? But that was what I wanted. She alternated between them. I didn’t stop any of it. My ticker was pounding so hard it felt like it might blow its way out of my chest cavity.
I watched my beautiful wife get up from the couch, and knew she was making another play to try to win the match.
She took hold of Pete’s hand, and pulled him up to his feet. They went around the couch, and she made a lunge for Greg’s hand, urging him to come with them. All three of them laughing and smiling like they were about to embark on a pillow fight.
My wife led the two college jocks into the bedroom, and then onto the bed.
I was shocked, but so brutally turned on.
Michelle, lying with two gym-toned hunks, all of them wearing nothing but swimwear. Michelle making out with them, one at a time while the other explored her body with his hands. Michelle letting them push up her bikini top and manhandle her bare breasts.
Was she still expecting me to step in, to stop things from going any further?
I stayed out of the room. The two guys were both sucking on her tits now, and then one of them was moving down her stomach. I stood in the doorway, and her eyes connected with mine, growing wide with incredulity at what was happening, at the fact I was letting it continue. I gave her a smile of encouragement, a little nod of approval, a subtle raising of the eyebrow that told her how impressed I was.
And now Pete was lying between her elevated thighs, exploring the edges of her bikini bottoms with his kisses, and Michelle was beyond the point of being astonished at my attitude to all this. When Pete tugged down her bikini bottoms, and I remained firmly in my place in the doorway, I watched my wife get up from the mattress, and kneel over Greg’s lap, while presenting her bare behind to Pete.
I watched, transfixed, as another man touched my wife’s pussy. As my wife tugged down yet another man’s swim trunks to expose his large, stiff cock. I moved only to get a better view as she took Greg’s impressive shaft in her hand, and pumped it a few times before ducking down to lash his full length with her tongue.
I sank down into the armchair in the corner as my beautiful wife took another man’s hard cock into her mouth, while a second man removed his own trunks and lined up behind her, kneeling as he unfurled a condom down his own, remarkable length.
This was like some kind of dream.
If it was a dream, it was quite unlike anything I’d ever dreamt before.
I’d never fantasized about my wife being with another man, let alone two.
But this was real. Every breath I took, I could detect their cologne, her perfume. Perhaps, already, the scent of her arousal, too.
I could hear her sucking on Greg’s manhood. I could hear how wet she was as Pete stroked the tip of his cock up and down her glistening pussy.
Michelle withdrew from Greg’s cock to look over at me, and there was one final questioning look imprinted on her face: asking me are you sure about this? Are we really doing this? Are we really going to let these guys go through with this?
I simply smiled back, and hauled down my own trunks sufficient to reveal my true feelings to her, in the form of a massive erection.
Her eyes flashed with one final burst of astonishment, and then Pete gave a little grunt and slid his cock inside her.
Michelle closed her eyes, opened her mouth and gasped.
‘Oh…oh… oh…’
For a while, she could only hold on to Greg’s shaft and pump it a little, while Pete squeezed his monumental dick inside her. Then, as she began to get more accustomed to his steady thrusting, she remembered to pass on her good fortune, stretching her lips around her other lover’s girth once more.
I watched in stunned amazement as her shapely form rocked back and forth, her head bobbing as she worked on Greg’s cock, her breasts swaying as Pete pounded into her from the rear.
I’d always appreciated the sounds of Michelle enjoying herself, but this was far beyond anything I’d ever experienced before. Her sighs, her moans, her little gasps, her occasional grunt — it was all like the most exquisite symphony to me. I knew she’d never sounded quite like this with me — but it didn’t matter.
Strangely, as I sat there stroking my shaft, it all felt as though I’d given this to her. I had let this happen. It felt so close to it being me directly giving her this pleasure, rather than them, as to not matter at all.
This was me fucking her by using these two, ripped studs.
I watched her kneel up, reach around to bring Pete in for a kiss on her mouth, turning around to coax him down onto the mattress so that she could start tending to his hardness with her mouth. And I was turned on because Michelle was turned on by getting to enjoy the cocks of two strangers at the same time.
In pleasing my gorgeous wife, I was equipped with two amazing cocks. Three, if you counted the one I was holding myself. No wonder Greg and Pete had been so confident in hitting on my wife, in flirting with her, in asking her which one she would fuck.
Cock-sure, that was the word for it.
And I was watching Greg’s cock sure give Michelle a good time right now, now that he’d pulled on a condom too, while she toyed with Pete’s manhood with her eager mouth.
I became like a movie director, repositioning myself in the room so I could secure the very best angle. Totally enamored by the sight of another man’s cock sliding into my wife’s rosy-red, dripping-wet pussy.
It was so shocking, and yet so unbelievably thrilling.
It was nothing like I’d ever imagined a threesome would be like. I suppose I hadn’t really imagined a threesome since before I was married — and back then it had only ever been the thought of two women and me. But now I was witnessing this particular triangle in real life, it seemed like a lot more effort than I’d ever anticipated.
This was a real workout. The three of them were soon flushed, and as Michelle alternated between the two men — sucking on one while riding the other, then switching it around again — they were all three beginning to glimmer with perspiration.
The musty, gym-like scent of real sweat started to supersede the smell of cologne in the air, adding to the glorious musk of increasingly copious sexual lubrication.
This was like cross training, in the buff. Three people using their own anatomy as gym equipment.
Michelle had never sounded like this in the gym, though. At least, not as far as I knew.
The sounds she made as she scaled her orgasm were just extraordinary — and quickly transferred my attention from appreciating the beauty in front of me to avoiding an early and messy conclusion to my appreciation. Had my wife ever sounded like that with me? More to the point, had my wife ever truly come before, with me? I’d always thought we’d been good together, but the soprano cries and alto groans she let fly as these young men brought her to climax made me mentally vow to do better in future.
When she came — and came again, and again, because it was not a one-time deal this evening — the look Michelle gave me was just priceless. It was all love and affection, coupled with awe and wonderment, and a good dose of gratitude for my delegation of sexual duties
That look alone was the closest I came to coming myself, making me really struggle to maintain control.
That look alone made all of this worth it.
How could any husband object to this? How could anyone feel jealousy when their beloved gazed at them with an expression like this?
I wanted more of this. Suddenly, I could see the attraction of swinging, which I’d always thought slightly tacky before.
I wanted Michelle to do this again.
I’d spring for a full gym membership if that’s what she wanted.
But now, as this particular workout was coming to an obvious close, my beautiful, wicked, gorgeous, sexy wife dismounted from Greg and lay between the two of them.
She asked them to remove their condoms.
Was this some last attempt by her to win this little game of ours?
She lay there between them, a cock in each hand, beating them off while she gazed into my eyes.
But I still didn’t flinch.
I smiled back at her as she directed their hard dicks toward her, taking vigorous strokes like an Olympic rower, making them grunt and groan and pant for breath.
And then as my wife turned to tenderly kiss one of them, and then the other, on the mouth, they were shooting their thick, white cream all over her delectable, glistening form.
Why was it so thrilling to see them coming all over her?
Later, once trunks had been pulled on, and phone numbers passed, and kisses of farewell exchanged, our two guests departed, content and satisfied — leaving Michelle exquisitely defiled.
She turned to look upon me with inquiring eyes. ‘That was insane,’ she said, stepping slowly toward me from the firmly sealed door into our suite.
‘It was,’ I agreed.
‘I thought you’d stop me at some point along the way.’
‘I thought you’d stop it, at some point, along the way,’ I shrugged.
‘You just sat back and let those guys… fuck me.’
‘I didn’t think I needed to let you. You seemed to be doing pretty well deciding by yourself.’
She stepped up to me, and I couldn’t tell if she was suddenly angry at me or afraid of me.
I reached out and gently pulled her toward me for a cautious kiss, hoping it might distract her if she was mad. I breathed her in as I tenderly sucked on her lips, taking in the strong scent of sex that arose from her dewy skin. My God. My grip around her waist tightened, and my kiss on her mouth intensified.
After a moment, she seemed to melt into my kiss, her own caution departing. I felt her hand sweep around my naked form, and then her fingers close around my rock-hard cock.
She gasped, apparently surprised I was still hard.
‘Let me take a quick shower,’ she said, breathless, as our kiss ended.
I shook my head.
‘I want you, now, just like this,’ I said, feeling like a caveman, my hunger for her so raw and unrefined.
I was helpless to resist my desire for her now.
So who won our little game?
I’d probably tell you something cheesy like we were both winners in the end. But by the end of that vacation, you might have found Michelle feeling fairly certain she was the winner, by the number of times she got laid that week.
Yet I would insist to you that I was the real winner, because I could enjoy my wife’s pleasure and satisfaction as well as my own.
Who would you say was the winner?
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