Member-only story
How I Wore Out My Red Lingerie on a Threesome.
My husband finally brings my friend from the office to a hotel.
The door swung open with a soft creak, revealing Alan’s silhouette against the hallway light. His broad shoulders almost brushed the frame, his white shirt straining over his torso as he adjusted his steel watch in a motion that made the tendons in his forearm gleam.
“Hello, princess,” he murmured, fixing me with those storm-colored eyes I remembered all too well from our work meetings. His deep voice resonated in my stomach like an electric bass. “Julian wasn’t exaggerating. That dress… you should be arrested for murder.”
Julian closed the door behind him with a thud, his fingers trembling as they brushed my waist. I felt his erection press against my back as Alan moved forward, sliding his fingertips along the neckline that barely contained my breasts.
“Remember when you told me you’d never wear red lingerie?” Alan whispered, threading a finger under the peeking bra strap. “Liar.”
“I…” I swallowed, feeling Julian unbutton the top button of my dress with feverish hands. “We shouldn’t…”
“Shhh,” Alan covered my lips with his as Julian bared my shoulders, the black fabric sliding down to pool at my hips. “Three years of pretending you didn’t want me. Today I get interest.”
Their tongues met on my skin as Julian bit my neck and Alan took my mouth with a fierce hunger. The world spun. I found myself on the coffee table, legs dangling as both men tore off what was left of my dress. Alan knelt before me, his brown hands spreading my thighs with obscene adoration.
“Look at this, Julian,” he purred, blowing on the dental floss separating my swollen lips. “Your wife drips like a schoolgirl. How many nights have you two fantasized about this?”
Julian panted against the back of my neck, his fingers lacing through Alan’s over my pubis. The moan that the double contact tore from me vibrated in the mirrors on the ceiling.
“All my fucking life,” my husband growled, tearing my thong off with his teeth as Alan buried his face in my sex.
Hours melted away in panting and sweat. I remember Alan’s weight on top of me on the couch, his hips slapping my buttocks every time he sank all the way in. I remember Julian kneeling in front of us, drinking our mixtures from his chest as he moaned like a madman. I remember the instant we swapped places, when my mouth…
