Mirrors 2

I had never fucked her or seen her fucked like this. Until this point in the evening she had been composed and seductive, a classy delicacy in control of two men even while bound and servicing us with her mouth. Now though she disintegrated. She was wailing and babbling and thrashing uncontrollably as his cock plumbed her ass. She was shimmering with sweat. Her breasts were slewing back and forth on her chest. The tendons in her neck were taut. It was too much to bear watching. A paroxysm of jealousy and desperate arousal shook me. Kneeling by her head, I drew my cock out of my jeans and spat in my palm and started to stroke myself as though to a porn film, but it was my wife I was seeing, and whose lust I was smelling and whose spasms I was feeling as I held her down by the neck while he thrust himself into her. She seemed oblivious to me. I could see nothing but her, though, my wife, abandoned to this other man in utter possession of her, fingers and cock stretching her, using her with a feral disregard that I could never muster because I cherished her too dearly.

But when he pulled out of her, trembling, I said, "Go ahead. On her face." I felt a little thrill of shame at what I wanted to see, but that was what I wanted to see, and I wanted her to see it too. I put my hand on her cheek and turned her head toward the mirror. He squatted over her, pointing the tip of his cock downward. He and I were both stroking ourselves. He strained, seeming to take some effort in forcing out his orgasm. I held her neck. She opened her mouth and put her tongue out and looked up into his eyes.

He sprayed his cum over her, watery and explosive. It splashed my hand, shockingly hot. Most of it he spattered it across her cheek and her nose. It dribbled down over her mouth. He stroked himself and squeezed a final long dribble onto her tongue. She was licking it off of her lips. I presented my hand for her to lick clean.

"Did you like that?" I asked her. "Do you like having another man's cum on your face?"

She nodded and asked me, "Do you like it?"

I did. But I couldn't answer. The sight of her was too much. I rose on my knees, shoved my cock in her mouth, and emptied myself into her. The cum bubbled out of me in an enormous pent-up flood, overflowed her lips, and spilled onto the carpet. She wrapped her lips around me and sucked out the last drop. Hyper-sensitive, I twitched and had to pull away. The man and I sat on the floor opposite one another from my wife, our semen commingled on her face. All three of us were panting for breath. "God damn," he said. I smiled. I took a picture of her in the mirror, arms still tied behind her, knees rug-burned and face dripping, the man's open legs and softening wet cock in the background. To this day, it's the picture I go to when I'm alone and pleasuring myself and reaching the final moment.

My wife licked her lips. She was looking at herself in the mirror. She met my gaze there and smirked. "So what else would a man would think to do to me?" she asked.