There is an old saying that you can sell anything, as long as the buyer believes it's stolen goods.
One of the best times was when we found a young guy living just 100 yards from us in our condo complex. How it began is a long story, but he didn't know that I knew and that I encouraged her to open her legs to him. In fact, I told her to add some extra excitement and spice she should tell him that I was super jealous and that if I knew what they were up to, I would beat him into a pulp. (I was half a foot taller than him, so it was more believable than you might expect.) Well, as much fun as that ploy was, we wanted to branch into threesomes with him. So, I told him one day, privately, that she and I had been talking about trying something on the wild side of life and try an MMF threesome and that I thought he would be a good candidate. So it happened—a lot. He was so dang close. During one sweat-producing get together, as he was fucking her, I told him that I loved watching him fuck her, which was a bit weird, as if he had been fucking her in an affair, he would be dead now. He was visibly shaken by my comment.
Afterwards, she complained that I was toying with him too much, so we should tell him the truth. I agreed and visited him alone and told him everything. He was in an odd emotional state afterwards, sighing relief, laughing, angry, and confused. He admitted that he had actually feared for his life. His confusion was over what I had got out of his fucking her seemingly behind my back. I explained how not being there was also very hot. We agreed that she was to visit him each Tuesday evening solo, so I could enjoy her returning with her pussy pre-fucked for me. (Tuesday was the one day she could leave work early.) She arrived home, showered, dressed up, left for his condo, while I was driving in my long commute home. I made a fabulous dinner and waited. She came home. We ate. Then, finally, she told me everything that happened earlier, as I ate her just fucked pussy. No better way to spend a Tuesday evening.