Shared Served Satisfied

So... if you didn't already know, my husband has been dipping his toes into what we lovingly call his bi side.

It started as one of those filthy fantasies I'd whisper to him in bed--half-joke, half-dare--but somewhere along the way, it became something real. Something hot. And to be completely honest? I had no idea how much it would turn me on.

The thought of watching him submit--not just to me, but to another man--woke up something wild inside me.

But here's the thing... finding the right man for that dynamic?

Way harder than it looks.

We needed someone who could do more than just talk a big game. Someone who could dominate me and put my husband in his place--effortlessly. No awkwardness, no guessing. Just raw energy and control.

Enter: our English tradie friend.

There was just something about him. I can't explain it fully, but I felt it the moment he walked in.

The way he stood. The way he looked at me.

Dominant. Confident. Filthy.

The kind of guy who doesn't need to raise his voice to get what he wants.

And god, could he talk the talk. Every message, every voice note--so explicit, so sure of himself. I could already feel my legs pressing together just reading his words.

But what really made me wet?

I just knew he was going to back it up.

And more than that--I knew my husband would do whatever he was told.

If the vibe was right.

If the dominance was real.

And if I played my cards right...

This would be the day I watched my husband finally give in.

Hubby was dressed for the occasion, of course. I had him wear my favourite thong--black lace, tight, feminine, humiliating. Something about it still catches me off guard with how much it turns me on. Maybe it's the contrast--how I tower over him now, especially while I'm pregnant. How much more dominant I've become.

There's no denying it anymore: I'm fully in my power with him. He's my obedient little cuck, and I adore that role. But the second a real man walks in the room? That's when my submission surfaces. It's like flipping a switch.

The second our English tradie stepped into the hotel room, I felt it. That pull. That energy. The kind that makes my body react before my brain even catches up. He didn't have to say a word--I just walked right up to him and kissed him.

Hard.

The kind of kiss that says this is happening.

Hubby took his cue, like he always does. Quietly moving to his assigned spot. The cuck chair. Every hotel room seems to have one, doesn't it? He sat down, thonged and in his place, his little bulge visible through the thin fabric. Already aching. Already watching.

And just like that, I dropped to my knees.

There's something so filthy about revealing a new cock. That first moment--when I unzip his jeans and take it out, warm and thick and already swelling in my hand. My pussy clenched. I could feel how wet I was already.

I let my spit drizzle over his head and shaft, then wrapped my lips around the tip and slowly took him into my throat. One smooth, hungry glide.

God, I love this part. The taste of him. The weight of him. The way he twitched when I swallowed around him.

I didn't hold back. I wanted it loud--obscene even. Wet, sloppy, face-fucking filth. My hand gripped his base while I worked him deep into my throat, again and again. Glock glock sounds filled the room, echoing off the walls. I was making a mess, and I loved it.

I could feel spit dripping down my chin, my throat stretching with every thrust. He didn't hold back either--he used my mouth. And I let him.

From the corner of my eye, I could see hubby shifting, squirming in his little thong. His cock was straining, no doubt dripping already.

And that made me moan around this new cock even more.

Because here I was: pregnant, on my knees, being face-fucked by another man--while my husband watched from the sidelines.

Exactly where he belongs.

After a few minutes of wet, sloppy sucking, I stood up and pushed him back onto the bed. He let me take control--just for a moment. I unbuttoned my top and revealed my pregnant milf titties, swollen and heavy, already slick with arousal.

He looked up at me with that satisfied smirk like he knew exactly what I was about to do.

I straddled him and pressed his cock between them, squeezing tight as I began to slide up and down. My nipples were hard, and his cock was gliding between them, wet from my mouth and the spit I let drip down for extra slickness.

The warmth of my tits wrapped around him perfectly, and I loved the way his breath caught when I added a slow grind of my hips, teasing him with more than just my cleavage.

This pregnant hotwife was only getting started.

After a few minutes, he grabbed my hips and flipped the script again--pulling me forward, onto the bed. He moved to his knees beside the mattress and dove between my legs.

God, the way he ate pussy? It was something else.

He didn't just lick--he devoured. Tongue everywhere. Sometimes soft, slow licks that had me arching into him, and other times deep, fast flicks that made my thighs tense and my voice tremble. He circled my clit just right--firm, confident, controlled--and when he slid a finger inside me, I cried out.

My whole body started squirming.

I could feel his face buried between my thighs, and my legs squeezed around him involuntarily--pure reflex from how good it felt.

At one point, while I was moaning and writhing on the bed, hubby cleared his throat and softly asked, "Can I kiss you?"

I didn't even answer. I just turned to our English tradie, breathless, letting him decide.

He didn't even look up from between my legs. "Just quickly," he said.

So I grabbed hubby by the shirt, pulled him down, and gave him a slow, deep kiss--full tongue. I wanted him to taste the cock that had been in my throat. To feel how turned on I was. To know just how out of control I felt in that moment.

Afterward, my bull finally laid back on the bed. And I followed--on all fours--crawling toward him with my mouth already open, ready to suck him again.

I kept my ass high in the air, arched just right--knowing exactly what kind of view hubby had from behind.

I didn't expect what came next.

Our tradie spoke up. Calm. Direct. Filthy.

"slide that cock into her puss," he said. "quickly, just 30 seconds"

I froze for a second--not from shock, but from heat. I was soaking wet. My pussy throbbed just hearing it.

Hubby hesitated, like he wasn't sure he'd heard right.

"Now," the bull said.

And just like that, hubby dropped to his knees behind me and slid in.

I gasped--his cock felt small compared to what I'd already sucked, but the contrast made it so much better.

Now I had one cock in my mouth... and another in my pussy.

And my brain was melting.

Hubby kept fucking me from behind, his rhythm needy and erratic, like he couldn't believe this was actually happening. And truthfully, neither could I. Because while his cock was inside me, I leaned forward, pushed my bull's legs up, and let my tongue find its new destination.

His asshole.

I didn't hesitate. I licked around the rim first--slow and teasing--feeling the soft resistance of his skin, tasting the sweat and heat. He groaned immediately, one hand gripping my hair, the other tangled in the sheets. I circled his hole again and again, then dove in deeper with my tongue, flicking and pressing with firm strokes, letting him feel how hungry I was to please him.

Hubby was still thrusting behind me, and every movement of his cock only added pressure against my own tongue movements. It was wild--fucking one man while rimming another. I was moaning into his ass, my mouth slick, my face flushed.

Then my bull let out a low, satisfied growl.

"Fuck," he said. "You're fucking your wife while her tongues buried in my ass. I love it."

That only made me more eager.

He took control again--his voice confident and calm. He told hubby to give my ass a slap. Harder. Again. Then, without missing a beat, he told him to pull out and back off.

I didn't need further instruction.

I slid forward, straddling him, grabbing his cock and lining it up with my soaked pussy. I sank down in one long, desperate motion, my pregnant belly front and centre, pressing against him as I started to ride.

He groaned under me, both hands coming up to grab my breasts--pulling and sucking at my nipples like he couldn't get enough of me. I rolled my hips, grinding down onto his cock, every bounce and thrust making my belly jiggle, my tits spill from my bra, my body scream for more.

I was getting close. So close.

And that's when he gave one more command--to hubby.

"Get in there. Eat her ass while she rides me."

I didn't even look back. Just moaned, pushed my ass back a little more, and kept grinding, knowing exactly what was about to happen.

It wasn't long after that the energy in the room shifted again--sharper now, more focused.

He told me to get off his cock and start sucking him again, but this time, he turned to my husband and added, "Come give her a hand."

There was a beat of silence. My heart thudded.

Hubby obeyed. Of course he did.

He moved beside me, slowly, eyes wide, nervous... but clearly aroused. There was no mistaking it--the way his breathing changed, the flush on his cheeks. I watched as my husband, the man I've built a life with, lowered his head and began to worship the same cock I'd just been riding.

It was surreal. And god, it was beautiful.

He tasted me first, I could tell. His eyes flickered. I saw the moment he recognized the slickness coating our bull's shaft. My arousal. My scent. And he didn't stop--he leaned into it, deeper, bolder, like he wanted more.

I reached over and gently cupped the back of his head, guiding him, softly but with purpose--down, and down again. Encouraging him. Praising him with my touch.

And then... I joined him.

The two of us, side by side, taking turns, trailing lips, flicking tongues, moving in sync like we were made for this kind of shared submission. We'd occasionally brush against each other, and every time we did, I'd kiss him--deeply, hungrily--tasting myself and our bull, blending it all together.

It was passionate. There was no other word for it.

Nothing about it felt awkward. It was everything I didn't know I needed.

My husband and I, both on our knees for another man. Sharing the experience. Two mouths, one cock, and more desire between us than I thought possible.

He was watching closely now. Hubby. Eyes wide, lips parted, chest rising with every breath. He hadn't moved from his kneeling position, almost in a trance.

Then came the instruction. Low, steady, and with just enough force to remind us both who was in charge.

Hubby obeyed without hesitation. He leaned in again, mirroring what I had done earlier, and I watched him carefully. I could see how focused he was--trying to do it just right, taking direction without a word. His movements were slower now, more deliberate. He was learning.

My bull's reaction was immediate--his body tensed with pleasure, his hand in my husband's hair. I couldn't help but smile. It was surreal. Powerful. Watching the man I married follow in my footsteps like that, guided by desire and a need to please.

But I couldn't wait any longer.

I needed to ride him again.

This time, it was hubby who took the lead. He moved to the bed ahead of me, gently taking our bull's cock in hand and guiding it to my body as I hovered over him. The connection was electric the moment he slid inside. Deep. Full. Perfect.

Hubby stepped back, back into his role. Silent. Watching.

We moved together like we had done this a hundred times before--me on top, my body rolling with every thrust, my pregnant belly on full display as I ground down, slowly, deliberately, needing to feel every inch. I leaned forward, pressing my tits to his chest, letting him take them into his mouth while I rode him, chasing another high.

Later, the room blurred into heat and motion. We didn't stay in one position for long.

There were moments where I was bent forward, my hips in the air, one of them behind me, the other in front. We moved as a trio--sometimes in rhythm, sometimes chaotic and messy, but always feeding off the energy that pulsed between us.

Pleasure, surrender, hunger, control. It was all there, thick in the air like sweat and sex and everything in between.

My husband played his part perfectly. Taking turns, filling the silence with gasps and moans, his body responding to every shift and command. His hands on my hips one moment, replaced by our bull's the next. The roles shifted but the dynamic never changed: I was the centre, and they were both there to serve.

And just like that, the roles shifted once more. My bull took control again--his hands firm on my hips, guiding me into position. I was on all fours, back arched, belly proud, and ass high in the air.

The way he took me then? Possessive. Deep. Like he hadn't even started earlier, and this was the real beginning. His thrusts were rough, deliberate, driving into me with a force that had me moaning into the mattress. I could feel everything--his weight, his confidence, the way my body opened for him like it had been waiting for this exact moment.

And just beneath me, as if choreographed by something primal, hubby was kneeling again. Not behind me this time--but in front. His mouth was on me, his tongue finding my clit as our bull fucked me from behind. The pressure. The tension. The feeling of being owned and worshipped at the same time--it pushed me right to the edge.

Hubby must've felt it too. Maybe he sensed our bull was close, because he pulled back, sat quietly, and watched.

A few more hard thrusts, and it happened. My bull buried himself deep and let go--his body shuddering behind me, his breath catching as he filled me again. The sensation was overwhelming. I gasped, clenched, and collapsed forward on shaky arms.

But I wasn't done.

I looked at my husband. He knew what to do.

I climbed over him, positioning my pussy over his face as I watched the cum slide out of my pussy and down into his open mouth. Drip after drip. Then I slowly lowered myself--letting gravity and heat take over and straddling his face.. I could feel more warmth inside me spill out, and I made sure it didn't go to waste. I watched him take it, willingly, hungrily and urging him on. And only when I was sure he'd cleaned me properly did I finally let him up.

He looked dazed. Devoted. A mess of lust and longing.

So I gave him a reward.

With a kiss from me. A look from my bull. And the quiet, teasing promise that he better reclaim what was his--or else he might be watching someone else take me out to dinner next.

He didn't last long.

I let him in. Let him take his place again. Not out of pity, but out of pride. Because I wanted him to feel the difference. The fullness. The stretch that wasn't his doing. And I wanted to give him the gift of finishing where another man already had.

He came quickly. Just like I knew he would but not before my new bull and I teased him a little. Letting him know that if he took too long, it wouldn't be his pussy much longer.

And afterward?

I lay back, done, exhausted and glowing.

My body was aching, used, adored, and claimed. My mind was racing, but calm. And my heart? Still pounding with the thrill of it all.

Pregnancy has brought out sides of me I never imagined. The cravings, the confidence, the clarity. I'm a hotwife. A mother. And married to the most amazing man ever. I love this new dynamic.

And I'm more alive now than I've ever been.