Becky bucked under me, her hips rising to meet my hips, the same way we had fucked for 15 years, her eyes closed, biting her lips to keep from talking, her face red, her breathing labored, trying for as many orgasms as she could get from me.

She had already come once from my tongue, yelling out in a loud primal grunt, loud enough to be heard down the hall, louder than most nights, but no louder than usual for a night when Stacey was staying over. And the presence of her flirty friend was clearly the reason she had come so hard before and was going to come hard now, either because I was harder and spurred on to fuck her harder from thinking about Stacey or because Becky was thinking about her too, or because Becky liked to show off for Stacey how hard I made her come, how she, Becky, had a better husband, or maybe all of the above.

I was thinking about Stacey. Thinking about how much I wanted to fuck her in the morning while Becky was in the shower, right here in this very bed, from behind, on all fours, her ass slamming back into my hips as the bed rocked... Thinking about how Becky had been whispering to Stacey earlier, things she would never share with me, probably about some guy she had the hots for. I wondered who it was. I wondered if she was thinking about him now, or about Stacey. I fucked her harder. Driving into her. Remembering how she and Stacey had stared at each other, how Stacey had touched her lightly, erotically, and smiled at me. Becky was off in another place now. Not with me. Off with someone else. Being fucked. She was about to come. I could feel the tension in her. And then she came. Again. Loud. And down the hall I could hear Stacey coming too, the same as she did every night when she stayed over, and I pictured her, as I loved to picture her, on all fours, her long hair hanging to the floor, her head by the door of the guest room so she could hear us come, her hand back between her legs, fingering herself feverishly.

I hadn't come yet, but Becky neither cared nor noticed. She was satiated. She lay back on the bed and I went down to the kitchen, carrying the plates from our bedtime snack, down the hall, past the guestroom, where Stacey was still in the doorway, on all fours, her breasts brushing the carpet, smiling up at me. She rose to a kneeling position, her mouth inches from my cock. Then kissing, licking sucking, just as she had sucked me before I went in to fuck my wife, just as she sucked me every night when she stayed over. But tonight was different. Tonight I had saved my orgasm for her.

The tray was on the floor. My hands were behind her head. The pleasure was incredible and intense and I exploded into her mouth trying hard not to cry out.

She rose to kiss me, a look of absolute lust in her eyes like I had rarely seen before. My semen and Becky's juices mingling on our tongues, my hand between her legs as she came again, her orgasm muffled in my mouth. I held her for a minute. And whispered in her ear. "I love you you naughty slut. And tomorrow morning, while Becky's in the shower, I'm going to fuck you on our bed"

"Mmmmmmm. Excellent," she whispered back, "I love you too you bad bad boy. And honey..."

"Yes?"

"While you're fucking me..."

"Yes?"

"I'll tell you who your wife was thinking about while you were fucking her tonight."