It had been about six years since my wife and I had bought our house, and our guest bedroom was in need of a good painting. So, I hired a local painter to take care of the job. The guy had been recommended to me by a friend, and after doing a quick appraisal, he told me he could take care of the room in one day. “No problem,” I said, “we’ll be here all Saturday.”

Around noon on Saturday, the painter — Rob was his name — arrived at the house. My wife, Emily, greeted him at the door, and showed him up to the guest room while I took care of some work in the den. After leading him upstairs, Emily returned to the den to join me, sitting on my lap as I looked over some business reports. Nonchalantly, I grazed my hand across her leg, rubbing her thigh and continuing my reading. Emily was wearing this tight little miniskirt, and after a few minutes, my mind had drifted from what was on those reports to what was concealed underneath that skirt. I began thinking about the amazing sex we had had last night, and I was becoming increasingly horny as I relived those memories. Subtly, I slid my hand in between my wife’s tanned, juicy thighs, and began to edge closer to her nether-regions.

Upon realizing what I was up to, Emily quickly snapped her legs completely closed. “Jason!” she scolded, “the painter is right upstairs!” I rolled my eyes. Yes, sex with Emily was great, but sometimes, I wished she could be just a little less uptight. While she was by no means shy in the bedroom — she loved to suck cock and had demanded anal on multiple occasions — she was absolutely adamant about keeping our sex life entirely between us. She disliked PDA, wasn’t fond of nude beaches, and absolutely loathed porn. Basically, she felt sex and nudity should be shared between one man and one woman, without others seeing or knowing about it. Obviously, with this firm stance, a quickie with the painter upstairs was out of the question.

But, being a horny male, I persisted. “Come on, baby, just a quick one.” She frowned.

“And what if the painter comes down and sees us?” she asked.

I thought about this for a minute. Desperate to just get into those panties — sex or not — I compromised. “You just sit here and I’ll finger you,” I proposed. “If we hear him coming, I’ll move my hand, and he’ll be none the wiser.” To make my offer even more appealing, I slid my hand a little further up Emily’s leg, prodding her pussy with my pinky finger. Reluctantly, she spread her legs a few inches.

I smiled, and moved the rest of my hand deeper down her skirt. I grabbed hold of her panties, and pulled them off of her quickly. I stuffed them behind me on the chair, ensuring that if the painter did come down, he wouldn’t see her delicates strewn about the floor. And, with her pussy now exposed, I hiked up her skirt a bit and got to work. Emily was already pretty wet, and as I began encircling her clit with my thumb, she closed her eyes and breathed in. Gradually, I picked up the pace, moving more and more quickly around her magic button. As I worked, she spread her legs even further apart, revealing a pair of soaking wet lips. Unable to resist, I plunged a finger into her hole, and then slowly pulled it out. The second time, I added another finger, entering her pussy to the sound of a slight moan. After a few more distinct strokes, I began to finger-fuck her repeatedly, pressing up upon her g-spot with each entry. Her moans grew increasingly louder, and within a few minutes, her pussy was dripping with a steady trickle of juices. I could smell the sweet, memorable odor on my fingers, and desperate to taste some, I slid my wife over and moved myself to the floor. I spread her legs further, and thrust my head in between them.

“Baby,” she moaned, “stop; he’ll come down. He’ll see. Ohhhh, stop. Ohhhhh, baby.” Her objections slowly faded off, replaced by a series of passionate moans. As I stuck my tongue as far as I could into her pussy, she convulsed in her chair, bucking her hips wildly. I continued to tongue-fuck my Emily, alternating between her wet hole and her flushed clit. Her moans seemed to suggest she was favoring the latter, so with a sudden lurch, I opened wide and took her clit in my mouth. I began sucking eagerly, and Emily shrieked. Realizing I was getting her a bit too worked up, I shifted the focus of my oral activities to her upper thighs, allowing her to cool down for a minute. Meanwhile, I returned my hand to her pussy, rubbing the whole area gently with my palm. “Baby,” she gasped, “your cock. I want your cock.”

I stared at her, bewildered. My Emily, who had scolded me minutes before for getting a little intimate, was now begging for me to fuck her, with the painter right upstairs. Obviously, I didn’t care what had caused the change of heart, though I assumed that I had myself to thank. I willingly unzipped my pants and whipped out my cock, already fully erect. I stood up, and she reclined on the chair, lifting her legs in the air. She wrapped her legs around me and pulled me in, driving my throbbing dick right into her sweet spot. As I entered her, she gasped.

“Yeah, how’s that feel, honey?” I asked, taking the gasp as a sign of wild pleasure. But Emily didn’t respond. Instead, she stared, wide-eyed, straight past me, towards the opening of the den. I turned around, and there, equally dumbfounded, was Rob the painter.

“Uhhh, sorry Mr. and Mrs. Scott,” he stammered. “I heard a woman shriek, and I thought Emily may have fallen or gotten hurt. I’m so sorry to have interrupted.”

I looked at him, at a loss for what to say. Then, as I struggled for the right words, I noticed something peculiar — I was thrusting. Or rather, Emily’s legs — which were still wrapped around me — were slowly guiding me in and out of her. I don’t think Emily even realized what she was doing; her eyes were still transfixed on our intrusion. And, following her gaze, I had a second revelation — her eyes were actually transfixed on a certain part of our intrusion. As Emily pulled me towards her again and again — however subtly it might be — her gaze was directed straight at Rob’s cock, clearly outlined in his tight-fitting jeans.

Now, I’m definitely not the jealous type. I’m also not the type that attends swinger parties or fantasizes about different men taking turns with my wife. But, there was something about this situation — Emily’s glazed look, her subconscious willingness to continue getting fucked in front of a complete stranger, or perhaps my natural desire to continue having sex — that made me let go of all inhibitions. Knowing Emily would snap out of her trance, get up, and put her clothes back on at any second, I knew I had to act fast if I was to take advantage of this situation.

And so, I plunged my penis deep into her, forcing Emily to issue another loud shriek. I motioned for the painter to come over, and — like a zombie — he did. I looked at Emily, my sweet, innocent wife, and asked her if she liked what she had seen. “I saw you staring at the painter’s junk,” I teased. “Would you like to see it?”

Emily’s eyes grew wider. She shook her head back and forth. “Of course not,” she murmured; “I wasn’t looking at anything.”

But her actions said otherwise. By this time, I would have expected Emily to have slapped me, slapped the painter, and stormed out of the room. Instead, she was still lying there, with me inside of her, legs still twisted around my back. While the thrusting had stopped, she made no motion to get up, and her unconvincing objection to seeing Rob’s cock betrayed her words. Challenging her to protest, I nodded to Rob. He knew what to do. Slowly, he unzipped his jeans, and an enormous bulge sprung out. There was something hidden within those briefs the painter was wearing, and I knew that Emily wanted a look at it. I also knew that she was too afraid to make a move.

Loving the mix of emotions my wife was clearly feeling — confusion, lustfulness, surprise, and maybe even a little fear — I continued to tease her. “It’s okay, baby. If you want to see the painter’s cock, then go ahead and see. But if you’d rather not, then I’ll just have him leave. You just give me the word.”

Knowing that she was being forced to make a decision — between losing all inhibitions and giving up an incredible opportunity — she glared at me. I smiled, and I suppose this may have put her a bit at ease. I was making it clear that I was relaxed and enjoying this, and it seems that this loosened her up a bit, as well. Reluctantly, she turned to Rob, and admitted, “okay, I want to see it.”

Rob didn’t need the coaxing that Emily did. As soon as he was given the word, he dropped his briefs, exposing his rock-hard penis. My wife was mesmerized. She stared at it, apparently at a loss for what to do next. She looked at me, as if for guidance.

I offered no such guidance. Hell, I didn’t even know what I wanted her to do. This hadn’t been planned, and as I said, I wasn’t really into sharing my wife. But nothing thus far had deterred or upset me, so I decided to push this to the limit. “Go ahead,” I said, “grab it if you’d like.”

And she did. For the first time in her life, Emily was holding two cocks. One was firmly clasped in her left hand, and the other was tightly held in her dripping pussy. And she wanted both, now. Immediately upon seizing the painter’s dick, she reasserted control over my torso, pushing me deep inside of her with her legs. At the same time, she began to stroke Rob, jerking him off furiously as I watched. She looked up at me as she did this, and then at Rob. We simply both smiled back at her.

The faster Emily stroked Rob, the harder I pounded her. I was getting off merely on watching the scene before me; sliding in and out of my wife at the same time made the feeling even greater. The den chair was now fully reclined, and Rob was standing right near the head of the chair with a look of ecstasy on his face. After a few minutes of constant stroking, Emily’s sensual moans had evolved into screams of joy. “Keep going, baby! Keep fucking me! You want me to be a little slut, don’t you? You like seeing me with another cock, huh? Does this turn you on?”

And with that, Emily shoved the painter’s cock into her mouth. I was shocked. True, I had coaxed her into touching Rob. But sucking his dick? That was entirely her own decision. I looked down at her, my conservative, innocent partner, slurping and spitting all over this strange man’s genitals. She didn’t even bother to look up to see if I approved; she was too focused on pleasuring the painter to even care if I was okay with this. Fortunately, I was more than okay.

I continued to fuck my wife, not once breaking away from the view of her passionate blowjob. She was really pulling out all the stops to get this guy off — licking his balls, squeezing his ass, even deepthroating his cock. She closed her eyes as she slowly drew herself closer and closer to his pelvis, gradually easing his dick into the back of her throat. I watched as she fought back her gag reflex, taking Rob’s full length in her mouth. When she opened her eyes, and looked right at me, I nearly blew my load. Never had I seen her deepthroat that much cock; I wanted some of that action myself.

After about seven years of marriage, I’m guessing my wife could tell just what I wanted. Spitting out the painter’s gleaming cock, she turned her attention to me. “Do you want your little whore to take your cock like that?” she asked. “Do you want to fuck my throat, baby?” I nodded, removing myself from Emily’s pussy and offering my penis for her oral service. “Well okay,” she said, “but I’m still going to need a cock inside of my wet pussy.”

I knew exactly what Emily was getting at. Jerking off and blowing a complete stranger had only been a warm-up. I had unleashed the slut inside of my wife, and that slut was not yet satiated. She wanted to feel a new cock inside of her. And at this point, how could I refuse?

I laid down on the floor, and Emily crawled off the chair towards me. She got down on all fours and brought her face to my midsection, smiling. “You, painter,” she called behind her, “fuck me.”

“Yes ma’am,” Rob replied, getting right behind her and entering her doggy-style. Emily moaned with pleasure as he began steadily pounding her, and she screamed with delight when he started slapping her ass. As he continued to ravage my wife’s pussy and backside, I quivered, feeling my wife’s warm, moist tongue on my cock. The warmth grew as she took more and more of me inside her, and I almost exploded as I felt the head of penis brush against her throat. Once her mouth had engulfed my entire member, she let it back out, only to quickly take it all in once again. Her rhythm soon began to sync itself with Rob’s thrusting, and within minutes, I was ready to come. From the look on Rob’s face, I could tell he was feeling the same way.

I guess Emily felt me starting to tense up, because she quickly stopped her sucking and lifted herself up off of me. I watched as Rob removed his cock from her pussy; and I was mesmerized by the glimmer of my wife’s pussy juices on another man’s penis. Emily brought me back to reality as she grabbed me, motioning for Rob and me to stand in front of her. Getting to her knees, my wife drew the two of us close to her mouth, taking turns licking each of our cocks. While she sucked one of us, she would jerk off the other, and I knew it was only a matter of minutes before my wife was covered in a shower of cum.

Emily brought our cocks to her chest, and rubbed the head of each against her tits. Shiny, oozy precum dripped out of my cock as she circled it around her erect nipple, and on the other side of her chest, Rob’s dick was doing the same. “You guys want to come all over me?” she teased. “I’m all yours.” She continued to play with us, teasing our cocks until I just couldn’t take it any longer. I grabbed my dick out of her hands and pounded away on myself, feeling my insides tighten as I prepared to shoot my load. My wife opened her mouth wide, and at the same time, grabbed the painter’s cock with both hands. She stroked furiously, and I could see Rob’s legs shake as he passed the point of no return.

Simultaneously, Rob and I shot globs of cum onto Emily’s face. I aimed for her mouth, but my cum went everywhere — her cheeks, her nose, her forehead, her neck, and her chest. As Rob exploded, Emily pointed him downwards onto her tits, and streams of cum dribbled down her chin and her voluptuous breasts. After every last drop of cum had left Rob’s dick, Emily proceeded to suck him dry, using one hand to hold the cock and the other to spread our cum evenly across her chest. A minute later, she turned her attention to me, rubbing my dick on her cum-soaked cheek. “I didn’t know I could be such a cock-hungry slut,” she giggled, spitting jizz out as she spoke. I smiled in approval. Neither did I.