Sloppy seconds...
- Thread starter midshornycpl40
- Start date
Okla73012
Couple
At first, I considered cum a necessary liability to wife-sharing, but at the time I was quite cum-phobic, not liking even my own cum. Something I discovered when I was 20 and my gf delivered my own load as a snowball into my unsuspecting mouth. I thought I was going to die. Over time, however, I not only got used to another man's cum, but I looked forward to it being inside my wife. Two encounters brought about the transition in my viewpoint. The first was when I witnessed up close cum shooting out of another man's cock on to her belly. Astounding! Time seemed to have slowed down, and I saw a seemingly slow-motion display of spurt after spurt of semen erupting from a pulsating cock. An amazing sight that remains seared in my memory. The second encounter established how psychologically important his cum being inside her was to me.
Here is the second event:
She and I were about to invite a man over for dinner, but we were hesitant, as she had opened her legs to him before. That awkward situation where the husband meets one of his wife's ex-lovers does not apply here. When they had made love, the only time they made love, I had been there, guiding and encouraging them both.
Letting him fuck her had been more my idea than hers. I wanted him to see her naked, to behold her lovely figure and white breasts with pink nipples, to gaze at her red pubic hair, and to watch her round, paper-white ass jiggle as she walked in her best high heels, Italian, black leather, costing a fortune and worth every penny. I also wanted him to feel her soft skin and taut belly and slender thighs, to squeeze her delicate nipples in between his fingers, to cup her ass cheeks in his hands, to feel her soft lips kiss his, and to feel her warm naked skin against his—all of this I wanted him to experience before he smelled and tasted her pussy and before he knew what her face looked like as he pushed his cock into her and what her inner, wet folds of skin felt like against his naked, hard cock as he orgasmed inside her, leaving all his warm goo deep within her. I wanted all of her to be positioned before him to indulge and to savor.
And savor he did that night, repeatedly. That night he knew what her wet tongue against his balls and against stiff cock felt like, what her labia looked it and how pink her asshole was and how tightly her vagina could grip his cock. He left with her pussy scent soaking his short, dark beard, while her pussy still contained his semen as she prepared for sleep that night.
No, we were hesitant because we had invited him to our place twice since that hot night but he and she had no sexual encounters on either occasion. Why not? The first time was because he had a bad cold; the second time was marred by her period starting earlier than we expected. Our fear was that he would assume that the prior one hot night was a singularity not to be repeated, that it had been a one-time gift from us. We, however, definitely wanted a repeat performance.
I came up with a plan: we would invite him over and I would show him in, leading him to our dining room where he would find her naked, reclined upon a blanket on our dinner table. Then he and I would eat her until she climaxed and, afterwards, I would continue preparing the food. Once we had dined, we three would visit our bedroom to resume the sex. She liked the plan and we even practiced some moves and decided on what we should eat and what she should wear.
She wore no bra and panties; instead, she wore a transparent blouse and her finest Italian high heels—nothing else. He showed up more ten minutes early, with two bottles of wine, and we were ready for him. The night was chilly and our house was over heated, as was her vagina it turned out. As I showed him in, I could tell that he was wondering where she was. Miles Davis played on the stereo and a fire crackled softly in fireplace. I was wearing an apron and she was not in sight. He followed me into the candle-lit dining room and saw her there lying in the table on her back, her legs bent and opened, her pubic hair nicely trimmed, a chair pulled away from the table, turned 45 degrees, waiting for him to take his seat. I told him that I thought that he and I should have dessert before dinner. He said nothing, but nodded. As he sat, I asked if he wanted a lobster bib. He declined, but he did remove his narrow black tie and brown leather jacket.
He tightly closed his eyes, as he lowered his mouth to her proffered pussy. I could hear him sniffing and murmuring, as his tongue tasted her wetness. Her eyes had also been closed, but they opened wide, as she felt his first caress. Her moth made a silent "O" movement and I kissed her deeply, as he ate his dessert. We alternated eating her pussy, and she soon orgasmed, repeatedly, embarrassingly repeatedly for her. I was kissing her deeply, the first time she had an orgasm and I could feel her spasms travel through the table top.
She couldn't take any more pussy eating and she begged us to stop licking her and fuck her. He went first, but only after teasing her by rubbing his stiff glans against her slippery labia and clit, but not sticking it in her. Finally, he answered her pleadings with a one quick push, while I stood behind him and held up her feet, her ass drooped a bit over the table edge, her pussy at the right height for his cock. Her eyes rolled back under her eyelids and she let out a suitable gasp, as his thick six and half inches hit bottom. As I had expected, he shot his load in less than three minutes. I then took over fucking her but not for much longer; I declined cuming, as I wanted to save it for later. Besides, her pussy was so wet, shockingly wet, and so loose now that I would have to work at arriving at that orgasm.
She got off the table, still a bit wobbly, and drank the rest of her wine as if she was parched. I went into the kitchen and began to cook in earnest. He joined me and we talked men talk, politics, sports, and cars. I expected her to go off and to dress, but she had only gone off to brush her hair and reapply her makeup. When she entered the kitchen, empty wine glass in hand, she was still bottomless and still wearing the see-through blouse, which in the bright kitchen was even more translucent, allowing her breasts to be clearly be seen. She joined our conversation and refilled her glass.
Although I was busy preparing the dish, I kept noticing that she was playing with herself, or least that is what it looked like to me. She wasn't; she was feeling his semen drip out of her and drip down her inner thigh. She asked me for one of our fancy paper napkins, which I promptly gave her and which she rolled up into a tube and positioned between her legs. The sight was both funny and damn sexy, as it was a constant reminded that he had cum in her. (Later that night, she told me that his load had been crazy big, as if he hadn't cum in weeks. Perhaps, he hadn't.)
We continued talking and I reminded her that she needed to set the table. She then left the kitchen and returned still bottomless, but now barefoot and without the napkin. I asked what had happened to it, and she said that she had just taken a quick douche. Vinegar or iodine, I asked.
"Vinegar," she answered.
Damn, I disliked those, as they left a sour taste. She assured me that she had diluted it substantially. I then realized how important his semen being in her was to me. It was like the car wax following the car wash. It made the sex they had just enjoyed together more real, more significant somehow. I was missing his cum being in her; it was almost as if she had undone the sex with her washing his load out.
Still, she was so sexy looking in her one piece of clothing, transparent clothing at that. And her bare feet made her seem even more naked that she had been with her heels, even though her heels had exposed her slender red-painted toes. No matter how animated our conversation, we had to stare at her half-naked body.
Like a cat watching a small bird, he and I watched her move about the kitchen, carrying dishes and silverware out to the dining room, here breasts bouncing and her ass jiggling with each hurried step. Having our dessert first was meant to both assure him that sex would be forthcoming and to relieve tension so we all three could relax during dinner. It didn't work that way; instead, we were all extra horny, me most of all. They had both orgasmed, but I hadn't. I was now paying for holding back, as I wanted to fuck her so badly that my balls ached.
It didn't help that the small kitchen smelled of sex. He and I were both bearded and her scent lingered beneath our noses, besides her ass and warm, wet pussy were fully exposed to both our eyes and the air about us. Each step she took left a suggestion of sexual scent. And she looked so unbearably sexy in her one article of clothing, her entire body below her navel uncovered, unprotected, and fully available. By not dressing fully, she was telling us that she was available: her pussy was free for the taking. If our guest had wanted to, he could have fucked there in the kitchen before me, as I cooked. I could have changed my mind and fucked her in front of him. Her naked bottom half seemed to say, feel free to feel me, to use me as you need.
Of course, I was offering her body as well; I was inviting him to see her and feel her and fuck her. I wanted him to see what I saw each day and enjoy exploring what I explored each day. All of this filled my head, as I tried to wrap up the last dish. Soon, she was done with her job, but I was still cooking. She sipped more wine and leaned against our guest, her ass resting on his crotch. Without her heels, she was a few inches shorter than him. His hands were soon cupping her breasts, while she rubbed her ass from side to side against him. This was a move that we had practiced before he had arrived, so I was ready when she asked me to kiss her, as she held his hands tightly over her breasts. One awkward moment occurred as we still kissed and he reached his hand down to caress her clit and the back of his wrist brushed hard against my stiff cock still trapped in my pants.
After a long dreamy kiss, I got on my knees and gave her pussy a quick licking. I could smell but not taste the vinegar. Her labia betrayed her recent sexual activity by feeling and tasting slightly raw, slightly used. My cock was still stiff in my pants and now the urge to cum grew strong in me. It took a lot of self-control, but I managed to return to my job of finishing cooking the meal, my obvious hard-on tent polling my pants.
She then turned around and kissed his him, as his hands roomed over her naked ass cheeks. I watched and the urge to whip out my cock and jack off to the sight of her and him embracing tightly almost won me over. I am sure that if I had taken any longer to finish cooking, he would have pulled down his pants and fucked her then and there.
Dinner, finally, was served.
She sat on the folded blanket that she had lay upon earlier, making her seem slightly taller than she was. The room held a lingering scent of sex, which I delighted in sniffing. At one point, she stated that it wasn't fair that she was the only half-naked one. He and I agreed with her and he and I removed our pants and underwear and socks and shoes. Bottomless, the three of us had our second dessert and finished the bottle of wine.
We never made it our bedroom, as we ended up diving into our burning hot threesome in the living room, before the dying fire. All three of us were soon completely naked and her naked body was soon covered by four male hands and poked by two hard cocks. He and I were eating her body like starving men, filling our mouths with her nipples, clutching and squeezing her ass cheeks, licking her legs, thighs, and slit.
Then the fucking began. It was as if she were a helium balloon that float away if he and I had hadn't constantly pinned her down. As soon as he climbed off her, I climb on top of her. We swapped positions over and over. He came again in her and I came in her soon afterwards. He was spent, but I was nowhere near being done. About an hour later, I had my third orgasm in her mouth. As soon as she had swallowed my last drop of semen, she began to suck our guest. He was semi-erect and she had fully hard soon enough. He claimed that he was empty, but she proved him wrong.
As he drove away, she asked what had gotten into me, as I had been sexually ravenous, so much so that she feared that I would never stop fucking her.
"What makes you think that I am done?" I asked her.
She shook her head and explained that her pussy couldn't take any more fucking, as his thicker cock had made her almost sore. I made the hand gesture of a hand job and she smiled. As she used her hand to bring me to my fourth orgasm that night, we talked about what had happened earlier. I revealed that I was so pleased that he had refilled her pussy with his cum.
"You know, his load and your loads will still be in me when I am at work tomorrow?" she said with a devilish grin. "Unless, you want me to wash it all out."
"Don't you dare," was my answer.
"Okay, but his cum will be all gone in a few days anyway."
"Maybe we should have him refill you in a few days."
"I would like that very much. Or, maybe, we can get some other man's cum inside me before then."
"I would also like that very much," I replied, as I tried to think of who else might be a good candidate, for I did indeed like this idea very much. My mind raced, as I imagined days when three different loads of cum might comingle inside her, three different groups of sperm competing to impregnate her first, a thought that would have horrified me just a few years earlier. Of course, she was in no danger of getting pregnant, as she was on the pill—but even the pill isn't 100% effective.
Here is the second event:
She and I were about to invite a man over for dinner, but we were hesitant, as she had opened her legs to him before. That awkward situation where the husband meets one of his wife's ex-lovers does not apply here. When they had made love, the only time they made love, I had been there, guiding and encouraging them both.
Letting him fuck her had been more my idea than hers. I wanted him to see her naked, to behold her lovely figure and white breasts with pink nipples, to gaze at her red pubic hair, and to watch her round, paper-white ass jiggle as she walked in her best high heels, Italian, black leather, costing a fortune and worth every penny. I also wanted him to feel her soft skin and taut belly and slender thighs, to squeeze her delicate nipples in between his fingers, to cup her ass cheeks in his hands, to feel her soft lips kiss his, and to feel her warm naked skin against his—all of this I wanted him to experience before he smelled and tasted her pussy and before he knew what her face looked like as he pushed his cock into her and what her inner, wet folds of skin felt like against his naked, hard cock as he orgasmed inside her, leaving all his warm goo deep within her. I wanted all of her to be positioned before him to indulge and to savor.
And savor he did that night, repeatedly. That night he knew what her wet tongue against his balls and against stiff cock felt like, what her labia looked it and how pink her asshole was and how tightly her vagina could grip his cock. He left with her pussy scent soaking his short, dark beard, while her pussy still contained his semen as she prepared for sleep that night.
No, we were hesitant because we had invited him to our place twice since that hot night but he and she had no sexual encounters on either occasion. Why not? The first time was because he had a bad cold; the second time was marred by her period starting earlier than we expected. Our fear was that he would assume that the prior one hot night was a singularity not to be repeated, that it had been a one-time gift from us. We, however, definitely wanted a repeat performance.
I came up with a plan: we would invite him over and I would show him in, leading him to our dining room where he would find her naked, reclined upon a blanket on our dinner table. Then he and I would eat her until she climaxed and, afterwards, I would continue preparing the food. Once we had dined, we three would visit our bedroom to resume the sex. She liked the plan and we even practiced some moves and decided on what we should eat and what she should wear.
She wore no bra and panties; instead, she wore a transparent blouse and her finest Italian high heels—nothing else. He showed up more ten minutes early, with two bottles of wine, and we were ready for him. The night was chilly and our house was over heated, as was her vagina it turned out. As I showed him in, I could tell that he was wondering where she was. Miles Davis played on the stereo and a fire crackled softly in fireplace. I was wearing an apron and she was not in sight. He followed me into the candle-lit dining room and saw her there lying in the table on her back, her legs bent and opened, her pubic hair nicely trimmed, a chair pulled away from the table, turned 45 degrees, waiting for him to take his seat. I told him that I thought that he and I should have dessert before dinner. He said nothing, but nodded. As he sat, I asked if he wanted a lobster bib. He declined, but he did remove his narrow black tie and brown leather jacket.
He tightly closed his eyes, as he lowered his mouth to her proffered pussy. I could hear him sniffing and murmuring, as his tongue tasted her wetness. Her eyes had also been closed, but they opened wide, as she felt his first caress. Her moth made a silent "O" movement and I kissed her deeply, as he ate his dessert. We alternated eating her pussy, and she soon orgasmed, repeatedly, embarrassingly repeatedly for her. I was kissing her deeply, the first time she had an orgasm and I could feel her spasms travel through the table top.
She couldn't take any more pussy eating and she begged us to stop licking her and fuck her. He went first, but only after teasing her by rubbing his stiff glans against her slippery labia and clit, but not sticking it in her. Finally, he answered her pleadings with a one quick push, while I stood behind him and held up her feet, her ass drooped a bit over the table edge, her pussy at the right height for his cock. Her eyes rolled back under her eyelids and she let out a suitable gasp, as his thick six and half inches hit bottom. As I had expected, he shot his load in less than three minutes. I then took over fucking her but not for much longer; I declined cuming, as I wanted to save it for later. Besides, her pussy was so wet, shockingly wet, and so loose now that I would have to work at arriving at that orgasm.
She got off the table, still a bit wobbly, and drank the rest of her wine as if she was parched. I went into the kitchen and began to cook in earnest. He joined me and we talked men talk, politics, sports, and cars. I expected her to go off and to dress, but she had only gone off to brush her hair and reapply her makeup. When she entered the kitchen, empty wine glass in hand, she was still bottomless and still wearing the see-through blouse, which in the bright kitchen was even more translucent, allowing her breasts to be clearly be seen. She joined our conversation and refilled her glass.
Although I was busy preparing the dish, I kept noticing that she was playing with herself, or least that is what it looked like to me. She wasn't; she was feeling his semen drip out of her and drip down her inner thigh. She asked me for one of our fancy paper napkins, which I promptly gave her and which she rolled up into a tube and positioned between her legs. The sight was both funny and damn sexy, as it was a constant reminded that he had cum in her. (Later that night, she told me that his load had been crazy big, as if he hadn't cum in weeks. Perhaps, he hadn't.)
We continued talking and I reminded her that she needed to set the table. She then left the kitchen and returned still bottomless, but now barefoot and without the napkin. I asked what had happened to it, and she said that she had just taken a quick douche. Vinegar or iodine, I asked.
"Vinegar," she answered.
Damn, I disliked those, as they left a sour taste. She assured me that she had diluted it substantially. I then realized how important his semen being in her was to me. It was like the car wax following the car wash. It made the sex they had just enjoyed together more real, more significant somehow. I was missing his cum being in her; it was almost as if she had undone the sex with her washing his load out.
Still, she was so sexy looking in her one piece of clothing, transparent clothing at that. And her bare feet made her seem even more naked that she had been with her heels, even though her heels had exposed her slender red-painted toes. No matter how animated our conversation, we had to stare at her half-naked body.
Like a cat watching a small bird, he and I watched her move about the kitchen, carrying dishes and silverware out to the dining room, here breasts bouncing and her ass jiggling with each hurried step. Having our dessert first was meant to both assure him that sex would be forthcoming and to relieve tension so we all three could relax during dinner. It didn't work that way; instead, we were all extra horny, me most of all. They had both orgasmed, but I hadn't. I was now paying for holding back, as I wanted to fuck her so badly that my balls ached.
It didn't help that the small kitchen smelled of sex. He and I were both bearded and her scent lingered beneath our noses, besides her ass and warm, wet pussy were fully exposed to both our eyes and the air about us. Each step she took left a suggestion of sexual scent. And she looked so unbearably sexy in her one article of clothing, her entire body below her navel uncovered, unprotected, and fully available. By not dressing fully, she was telling us that she was available: her pussy was free for the taking. If our guest had wanted to, he could have fucked there in the kitchen before me, as I cooked. I could have changed my mind and fucked her in front of him. Her naked bottom half seemed to say, feel free to feel me, to use me as you need.
Of course, I was offering her body as well; I was inviting him to see her and feel her and fuck her. I wanted him to see what I saw each day and enjoy exploring what I explored each day. All of this filled my head, as I tried to wrap up the last dish. Soon, she was done with her job, but I was still cooking. She sipped more wine and leaned against our guest, her ass resting on his crotch. Without her heels, she was a few inches shorter than him. His hands were soon cupping her breasts, while she rubbed her ass from side to side against him. This was a move that we had practiced before he had arrived, so I was ready when she asked me to kiss her, as she held his hands tightly over her breasts. One awkward moment occurred as we still kissed and he reached his hand down to caress her clit and the back of his wrist brushed hard against my stiff cock still trapped in my pants.
After a long dreamy kiss, I got on my knees and gave her pussy a quick licking. I could smell but not taste the vinegar. Her labia betrayed her recent sexual activity by feeling and tasting slightly raw, slightly used. My cock was still stiff in my pants and now the urge to cum grew strong in me. It took a lot of self-control, but I managed to return to my job of finishing cooking the meal, my obvious hard-on tent polling my pants.
She then turned around and kissed his him, as his hands roomed over her naked ass cheeks. I watched and the urge to whip out my cock and jack off to the sight of her and him embracing tightly almost won me over. I am sure that if I had taken any longer to finish cooking, he would have pulled down his pants and fucked her then and there.
Dinner, finally, was served.
She sat on the folded blanket that she had lay upon earlier, making her seem slightly taller than she was. The room held a lingering scent of sex, which I delighted in sniffing. At one point, she stated that it wasn't fair that she was the only half-naked one. He and I agreed with her and he and I removed our pants and underwear and socks and shoes. Bottomless, the three of us had our second dessert and finished the bottle of wine.
We never made it our bedroom, as we ended up diving into our burning hot threesome in the living room, before the dying fire. All three of us were soon completely naked and her naked body was soon covered by four male hands and poked by two hard cocks. He and I were eating her body like starving men, filling our mouths with her nipples, clutching and squeezing her ass cheeks, licking her legs, thighs, and slit.
Then the fucking began. It was as if she were a helium balloon that float away if he and I had hadn't constantly pinned her down. As soon as he climbed off her, I climb on top of her. We swapped positions over and over. He came again in her and I came in her soon afterwards. He was spent, but I was nowhere near being done. About an hour later, I had my third orgasm in her mouth. As soon as she had swallowed my last drop of semen, she began to suck our guest. He was semi-erect and she had fully hard soon enough. He claimed that he was empty, but she proved him wrong.
As he drove away, she asked what had gotten into me, as I had been sexually ravenous, so much so that she feared that I would never stop fucking her.
"What makes you think that I am done?" I asked her.
She shook her head and explained that her pussy couldn't take any more fucking, as his thicker cock had made her almost sore. I made the hand gesture of a hand job and she smiled. As she used her hand to bring me to my fourth orgasm that night, we talked about what had happened earlier. I revealed that I was so pleased that he had refilled her pussy with his cum.
"You know, his load and your loads will still be in me when I am at work tomorrow?" she said with a devilish grin. "Unless, you want me to wash it all out."
"Don't you dare," was my answer.
"Okay, but his cum will be all gone in a few days anyway."
"Maybe we should have him refill you in a few days."
"I would like that very much. Or, maybe, we can get some other man's cum inside me before then."
"I would also like that very much," I replied, as I tried to think of who else might be a good candidate, for I did indeed like this idea very much. My mind raced, as I imagined days when three different loads of cum might comingle inside her, three different groups of sperm competing to impregnate her first, a thought that would have horrified me just a few years earlier. Of course, she was in no danger of getting pregnant, as she was on the pill—but even the pill isn't 100% effective.
Last edited:
Tfoher46
Male
Tfoher46
Male
There is a difference between sloppy seconds and cleaning up. I am all for sloppy seconds. That is, follow up fucking. I am not judging those who do clean up. That is their thing and if it trips their trigger, go for it. But, it is a bi or gay thing and that is not me. I have no desire to have another guy cum in my mouth or to lick it off my wifes pussy. One might ask "...so what if his cum is on your cock vs. on your tongue?'' I reply that I'm not bi but i'm not shy. Male male contact just comes with the territory - at least I would hope so for DP and such. But clean up is not for me.
All a matter of opinion. I’ve heard straight guys say that another man’s cum on your cock is gay. That was his opinion. I’m bi but I know of guys that clean up that swears they are straight. Their opinion.
Interesting thread, I have seen the debates about men having contact with other guys cum. The question has always been whether they would be considered bi or gay and I understand this debate. For me I have always felt I was straight but I am also a cuckold an understand my roll within that dynamic. When I was rarely allowed sex with my exwife it was always sloppy seconds and I never felt bi or gay. Fast forward 20 years and I now do clean up for my wife and I still don't feel gay or bi. For me anyway I feel that the other male is sexually superior and cleaning up his mess is my way for showing him I acknowledge and accept his being sexually superior. Just my thoughts.
Oh man, she was so wide open after she fucked Steve I could barely feel her pussy. I Was ready to cum before I stuck it in that warm, wet loose pussy. As soon as I was in I was cumming. She was surprised at my immediate ejaculation. She looked at me with a devilish look saying “ I couldn’t really feel you.” I am sure she couldn’t since I could barely feel it.
slowwewaxation
Male
My wife is blonde, but doesn't bring her pussy home full of cum. I sure do wish she would though.
Thx for sharing her. Wow some nice pulsatings there. One of my fetishes, to watch a pulsating cock in my wifes pussie. You’ve shared my favourite ultimate video.
That happened often with me, specially when she was double pussie penetrated and two big ones came simultaneously inside her pussie. Still enjoyed fucking her wet wellfucked stretched pussie
Focker
Male
This is when a pussy is perfect for eating and fucking, filled, covered and smothered with another mans cum.
