The Trade

"The Trade"

Her name was Lena, and she walked into our living room like she'd been there before.

Tall, elegant, blonde - her eyes sharp, mouth made for wicked things. She wore a deep green dress that clung to her hips, no bra underneath, nipples pressing subtly against the fabric. Every inch of her said I know what I'm doing.

Her husband, Marc, followed behind. Quiet. Broad-shouldered. A little stiff in posture but not disapproving. Just watching. Processing. Maybe holding back until the moment was right.

My wife Natasha - still sore from being filled the night before - greeted Lena with a kiss on the cheek... then on the mouth. Not polite. Lingering. Their lips pressed together longer than was necessary, and the air in the room shifted instantly.

I sat on the couch, pretending to be calm.

But my cock was already hard.

"So," Lena said, turning toward me. "You're the one who likes to watch."

Her voice was velvet and claws.

I nodded. "Yes."

"And touch?" she asked, stepping closer. "Eventually?"

I glanced at Natasha. She smiled. "Only when told."

Lena's grin deepened. "Well trained."

She walked over to me, fingers trailing along my shoulder as she passed - then sat beside my wife on the other couch.

Marc still hadn't spoken, but he was watching her. Natasha. Closely. His eyes moved down her body like he'd been starving for it.

My wife leaned back, crossed her legs slowly, and looked at him. "You're quiet."

He cleared his throat. "Just... taking it all in."

"Don't worry," she said, voice soft, seductive. "You'll be in it soon enough."

Lena laughed softly, already unzipping her dress. "He's always like this at first. But once I'm full of someone else's cock... he loosens up."

Her dress slid off her shoulders. No bra. No panties. Just skin - smooth, ready, glistening faintly under the light.

She walked over to my wife, completely naked, and straddled her lap.

"Should we give them a show first?" Lena asked.

Natasha tilted her head back, lips parting. "Yes."

And then they kissed.

Hard.

Wet.

Hands roaming. Fingers exploring. Breasts pressed together. My wife moaned softly as Lena's mouth moved to her neck, then lower - tongue trailing down until it found a nipple, sucking, biting gently.

Marc sat down across from me, watching them - his cock visibly hard through his pants.

Lena lowered herself fully onto my wife's lap, skin to skin, breasts pressed together, their thighs entangled. It was slow, almost tender at first--two women discovering each other's heat like it was a language only they understood.

Natasha's hands slid up Lena's back, fingers splaying between her shoulder blades. Her lips parted, head tilted, and they kissed again--deeper this time. Lena's tongue slipped into her mouth, slow and wet, and both moaned softly as they melted into it.

They weren't just kissing.

They were feeding.

Lena pulled back just enough to whisper, "You taste like someone else's cum."

Natasha smirked. "Maybe I saved some for you."

Lena's mouth moved lower again - trailing kisses down her neck, then lower, sucking at her collarbone. My wife leaned back against the couch, letting her - legs spreading slightly.

Her moans grew louder as Lena's tongue circled one nipple, then latched on and sucked hard, teasing it between her teeth. My wife gasped, fingers tangling in Lena's hair, hips starting to move just a little.

The two of them moved together like they'd done this before - hungry and skilled. My wife guided Lena downward, fingers in her hair, whispering something I couldn't hear - but I knew what it was.

Lena slid off the couch, between her legs, and settled there like she belonged.

Natasha groaned the moment Lena's tongue touched her.

She was still sensitive. Still used. But that only made it hotter.

Lena licked her slowly, deliberately, as if savouring every trace of the man who had been inside her the night before. Her tongue worked up and down, parting her folds, teasing her entrance, circling her clit.

And my wife let her.

Marc sat frozen beside me, wide-eyed, jaw tense. I could tell he wasn't breathing. Neither was I.

Natasha looked at us both through half-lidded eyes.

"You like watching your wives eat each other?" she panted. "This is just the appetizer."

Lena pulled back slightly, her chin slick. "She's soaked," she said. "Still open."

She dipped a finger inside - slow, then two.

Natasha cried out, back arching.

And Lena looked at me as she whispered, "How does she taste, knowing another man came inside her first... and now it's my turn?"

Then she went back in, tongue, lips, fingers--owning her.

Natasha was shaking now, moaning shamelessly, her thighs trembling. Her fingers clutched the cushions. Her head rolled back as Lena brought her right to the edge.

And just before she came -

She looked at me.

"Don't look away," she gasped. "You're going to watch me cum in her mouth."

Natasha cried out as her orgasm hit--hard, sudden, unstoppable. Her thighs clenched around Lena's face, hips grinding uncontrollably, hands lost in blonde hair as she rode the wave, body shuddering from the deep, wet attention she'd just been given.

Lena stayed with her through it. Mouth locked, tongue working, one hand curled under her ass, holding her in place.

When it was over, she finally pulled back, licking her lips, chin soaked.

"She's ready," Lena said, looking directly at Marc.

He stood - still silent, but the bulge in his pants said everything. My wife opened her legs wider in invitation, flushed and gleaming, still catching her breath.

She looked over at me.

"This is what you wanted, right?" she whispered.

Then to Marc: "Take me."

He didn't hesitate.

He moved between her legs, undressed quickly, and let his cock spring free. He was thick - different from the last man. Not bigger, but rougher in posture, his need less elegant, more animal. And that made it even hotter.

She guided him with her hand, eyes never leaving mine.

"I want you to watch him fuck your wife," she said.

Then she pulled him inside her.

The sound was immediate - wet, raw, obscene. My wife moaned, her mouth opens in shock as his cock slid in with one long thrust, her hips rising to meet him, greedy for it.

Marc grunted, grabbed her thighs, and began to thrust.

Hard.

Fast.

Claiming her.

And I just sat there. Hard. Silent. Watching another man take my wife again - right in front of me.

Her moans filled the room.

"Yes, just like that -- deeper - fuck, don't stop -"

Lena turned to me, still naked, her skin glowing, and climbed into my lap.

"Don't think I forgot about you," she whispered.

Her hand slipped inside my waistband, fingers wrapping around my cock. "You've been so good. Just sitting there... watching her get used."

She licked my neck.

"But now I'm going to ride you while she gets fucked by someone else."

She pulled my shorts down, climbed on top of me, and lowered herself onto my cock - slowly, letting every inch slide into her dripping heat.

We both moaned.

Behind her, I saw my wife - legs around Marc's waist, her body jerking with every thrust, face flushed and eyes wide, watching me now as another woman took me.

Lena began to ride.

Rhythmic, tight, controlling every stroke with a roll of her hips. Her breasts bounced against my chest, her mouth found mine, and her grip in my hair was firm.

"You're mine right now," she growled. "While your wife gets wrecked."

And she started bouncing harder.

The room was chaos now - sweat and skin, slick and sound.

Lena was riding me with pure intention, her pace relentless, thighs clenched around my hips, her ass slapping against me as she moved. Her pussy was hot and tight, gripping every inch of me, milking me with every bounce.

"You're going to cum for me," she moaned, fingers clutching my shoulders. "While your wife gets filled right in front of you."

Behind her, my wife was a vision of ecstasy - flat on her back, legs spread wide, Marc's body pounding into her. She was soaked, open, completely used - moaning shamelessly, calling out every time he bottomed out.

His thrusts were fast now. Urgent.

She was gripping the couch with both hands, face flushed, breasts bouncing, her voice getting higher.

"I'm going to cum again," she cried. "Oh god -- yes - fuck me - fuck me -"

Marc groaned above her, his face twisted with need.

"Jesus... you're perfect," he panted. "You're so wet... so fucking tight -"

I felt Lena's rhythm stutter - her moan changed. She was close.

"Don't you dare finish without me," she hissed, slamming herself down on my cock. "You're going to cum with him. At the same time. Fill me while he fills your wife."

She was clenching me now, her pussy fluttering, her whole body tensing as she rode me to the edge.

Marc's hands gripped Natasha's hips, and his thrusts turned primal - deep, rough, driving every last inch into her soaked, used pussy.

I could see it.

The way her body took him.

The way she wanted it.

"Now," Lena gasped. "Cum for me. Cum inside me."

Marc let out a loud, broken groan.

"Fuck - I'm coming -!"

And in the same breath -

I exploded.

Hot. Deep. Helpless.

Lena cried out as I filled her, her hips grinding down to take every pulse of it.

Marc buried himself inside Natasha, grunting as he came hard - her body jerking under him, hands clutching him as she took it all.

The room was full of noise - panting, moaning, the final, messy slaps of skin on skin.

We all collapsed in different directions.

Lena, still impaled on my cock, kissing my neck.

Marc, panting into my wife's shoulder, still buried inside her, his cum leaking from her used hole.

And my wife - eyes half-lidded, hair wild, body glowing - turned her head and looked at me.

We locked eyes.

And smiled.

The room was quiet now--except for breathless moans, the shifting of bodies, the occasional gasp as the heat gave way to sensitivity.

Lena was still draped across my lap, her body soft and heavy, her thighs sticky with my release. She exhaled a low, satisfied sound as she slid off me, my cock slipping free with a slick wet noise.

Between her legs - a mess.

My cum spilled down her inner thighs in thick, glistening trails. She spread her legs lazily, looked down at herself, then over at me.

"Look what you did to me," she purred. "Now come clean it up."

My body jolted, still aching from orgasm, but my desire flickered back to life instantly.

She laid back on the couch and propped one leg up over the armrest, fully exposing the mess between her thighs.

I sank to my knees.

Her scent was heavy - ripe with sex, heat, and my own cum. Her folds were swollen, flushed, glistening. It was obscene, beautiful.

I leaned in and licked her.

The taste was immediate - salty, slick, mine. I moaned against her, tongue tracing the crease of her pussy, lapping up the mess I'd put inside her.

She gasped.

"God, you really are trained," she whispered, reaching down to stroke my hair. "Does it turn you on... tasting your own cum out of a woman who just rode you in front of your wife?"

I groaned, licking deeper, tongue sliding between her lips, gently probing her entrance. She spread her legs wider, letting it drip, and I caught it all.

Behind me, I heard Natasha chuckle softly.

"Don't forget about me."

I turned.

She was still on the couch; her legs parted around Marc's waist. He'd pulled out, finally, and his cum was pouring from her - thick and white, trailing down to the couch cushion.

She looked wrecked. Proud. Glowing.

"Come clean me next," she said, voice sultry. "I want to feel your tongue inside me... while I'm still full of him."

I finished the last long lick between Lena's thighs - earning a soft moan from her - then crawled on all fours to my wife.

She reached for me, spread her legs wider.

And I dove in.

Natasha spread her legs wider as I crawled between them, her inner thighs slick with Marc's cum. Her pussy was raw, red, open -- used - and the mess leaking from her was thick, sticky, and slow.

"Look at me," she whispered.

I raised my eyes.

"This is what you wanted," she said. "Me, freshly fucked... dripping with someone else."

I nodded, breath catching.

"Then don't waste it. Clean your wife."

I lowered my face and pressed my tongue to her inner thigh first - slowly dragging it upward, collecting a long, creamy trail. The taste hit me hard: salt, sweat, sex. Not mine.

She moaned above me.

"Good boy," she whispered.

I licked again - closer to her folds this time. My tongue traced along the outside, gathering the wetness, nudging at the places where Marc had slipped out of her.

And then I went deeper.

My tongue slid between her lips, warm and open, and I moaned into her--completely overwhelmed. She was soaked, stretched, filled with him. My tongue lapped it up greedily, licking along her entrance, dipping in as far as I could go.

Each time I tasted him, I swallowed.

Her hips shifted beneath me, legs trembling slightly.

"You feel that?" she asked. "That wet heat? That's his cum. His. And now you're making it yours."

She was right. I could feel it - the thick slickness of him still inside her, slowly draining into my mouth.

I sucked softly at her clit, just enough to make her twitch, and she moaned again - tired, satisfied, but never fully done with being served.

"You're so good at this," she whispered. "Licking your wife clean after someone else used her. You were made for it."

I couldn't speak.

Just moan. Nod. Worship.

I licked until her folds were spotless - until every trace of Marc's release had been tasted, swallowed, savoured.

Then I looked up.

Her eyes were soft and dark, lips parted, chest rising and falling.

And she smiled.

"Now sit," she said, pulling me up gently. "We're not done with you yet."

She was clean.

Or she should have been.

I had licked up every drop Marc left inside her, my tongue trailing the curve of her lips, slipping inside her repeatedly, collecting his release like it was a gift. Her thighs were still parted, her folds still swollen--red and raw from being fucked.

But she didn't tell me to stop.

So, I didn't.

I went lower again, mouth open, tongue wet, and pressed in deep.

Her body shivered.

She was soaked again - different now, slick not from him, but from her own slow-building heat. Her hips shifted beneath my mouth, almost involuntarily, and she let out a soft moan.

"That's it..." she breathed. "Don't stop now."

I wrapped my hands under her thighs and pressed my face harder between her legs, tongue working in slow, deep circles - gathering every drop, then teasing her clit with slow, rhythmic flicks.

Her breathing quickened.

"You love this," she whispered. "You love tasting me... stretched and wet... full of another man."

I moaned into her, and the vibration made her gasp.

My tongue moved faster.

I flicked over her clit, then dragged my mouth down and pushed inside her again - fucking her gently with my tongue, tasting her from within.

She was melting now - hips rolling, legs trembling, hands gripping the couch cushion as I devoured her.

"I can still feel him," she gasped. "And now you're making me cum from it..."

Her voice broke on a moan as I latched onto her clit, sucking softly, then harder, tongue swirling. Her thighs clamped around my head.

And then she shattered.

It hit her in waves - her hips bucked, breath caught, thighs clenching. She cried out, fingers tangled in my hair, grinding into my face as her body gave in.

I didn't stop.

I licked her through it. Every twitch. Every spasm. Every drip.

Only when she pulled me up by the hair, panting, did I stop.

Her eyes met mine.

"That," she whispered, "is how a husband worships a shared wife."

I was still breathless on the floor, my face slick with my wife's orgasm, my mouth tingling from the taste of her release - and Marc's - when Lena stood up and walked toward me.

Her thighs were glistening with what I'd left inside her earlier, but she didn't bother cleaning up. She straddled my face, slowly, letting me see everything.

"I want your mouth again," she said, voice low and sweet. "But this time, I'm not doing the work."

She hovered just above my mouth and looked over her shoulder. "Marc - take me."

He didn't hesitate.

He stepped in behind her, cock already hard again, and gripped her hips. She let out a soft laugh as he lined himself up - then moaned loud as he slid inside her from behind, while she lowered herself onto my mouth.

My tongue met her at the same moment Marc's cock did.

She gasped.

My mouth was filled with the heat of her, the mess of us both mixing between her legs, and now - him. I licked her deeply as she rocked in sync with his thrusts, grinding against my face while he drove into her from behind.

She was the centrepiece now - used by two men at once, her moans getting louder with every thrust, every flick of my tongue.

And then - Natasha.

She walked over, eyes dark, legs still shaky, and straddled my hips.

"Since you're so eager to serve..." she whispered, guiding my cock into her soaked heat, "you can fuck me while you lick her."

I groaned helplessly as she sank down onto me, inch by inch.

Her pussy was tight, wet, greedy for me. She started riding slowly - deep rolls of her hips, grinding down until I was buried inside her.

I was pinned.

My cock inside my wife. My mouth stuffed with Lena's pussy. My face covered in slick, my hands gripping both women's thighs while Marc fucked Lena hard from behind, his balls slapping against my chin.

We were locked together.

Four bodies.

One rhythm.

Lena was close - her cries turning high, desperate, her thighs trembling around my head. My wife was gripping my chest now, fucking herself on me harder, grinding down with every stroke.

"Don't you dare cum until we all do," she warned.

Marc's pace increased - he was grunting now, holding Lena tight as he fucked her into my face.

Lena broke first.

She came hard, her thighs squeezing my head, her pussy pulsing against my tongue as her cries filled the room.

Natasha followed seconds later.

Her body shook above me, her pussy clenching around my cock as she gasped my name, collapsing forward against my chest.

And then Marc.

He groaned deep, buried himself in Lena, and came -- hard - filling her as her body milked him.

That was it.

I lost control.

My cock throbbed inside my wife, and I came with a cry muffled by Lena's thighs, every muscle tensed, every nerve alight as I filled my wife one more time - surrounded, smothered, owned.

Bodies collapsed.

Breath slowed.

And somewhere in that sweaty tangle of skin and surrender, the four of us smiled.