The morning after, the house was too quiet. I woke tangled in the sheets, the ache between my legs a reminder of everything Jack and I had done. The air still smelt faintly of sex and sweat. For a moment, I lay perfectly still, listening for any sign of Mark. All I heard was the distant hum of the fridge and the faint tick of the hallway clock.
Jack was gone. He’d slipped out before dawn, careful and silent, leaving nothing behind but the mess we’d made of the bed and the memory of his hands on my skin. I pressed my thighs together, feeling the sticky evidence of last night, and guilt twisted in my stomach.
I pulled on a robe and crept into the hallway. Mark’s shoes were by the sofa, the blanket still rumpled from where he’d slept. I could hear him in the kitchen, moving quietly, the clink of a mug, the soft hiss of the kettle. My heart hammered. I didn’t know what he’d heard, if anything. He’d been so deeply asleep, snoring, dead to the world, or so I thought.
I hesitated in the doorway, watching him pour coffee. He looked tired, his hair a mess, his eyes shadowed. He didn’t look up as I entered, just slid a mug across the counter toward me.
“Morning,” he said, his voice flat.
“Morning,” I managed, my throat dry. I wrapped my hands around the mug, searching for something to say. I wanted to believe he didn’t know, that our secret was still safe. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted.
We sat in silence, the tension thick. I tried to act normal, sipping my coffee, but I could barely swallow. My mind replayed every sound we’d made last night, every gasp, every moan, every creak of the bed. Had he heard us? Had he woken up, just for a moment, and realised what was happening?
I couldn’t take it anymore. I had to know.
“Mark,” I said quietly, not meeting his eyes, “I need to talk about last night.”
He set his mug down, slow and deliberate. “What about last night?”
My stomach twisted. “After you fell asleep. Jack and I…” I stopped, shame burning my cheeks. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let it happen. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
He was silent for a long time. I forced myself to look up. His face was unreadable, but there was something in his eyes I couldn’t place.
“You think I didn’t hear you?” His voice was soft, almost gentle.
My heart stopped. “You… heard?”
He nodded, gaze steady. “I was awake. I heard everything.”
The room spun. I opened my mouth to apologise again, but he shook his head.
“Don’t,” he said. “Just tell me the truth. Did you want it?”
I swallowed, tears prickling at my eyes. “Yes. I wanted it. I wanted him.” I looked down, ashamed. “But I want you, too. I don’t want to hurt you.”
He leaned forward, his hand covering mine. “You didn’t lose me, Emma. I thought I’d be angry. I thought I’d hate it. But I didn’t.”
I stared at him, confused. “You didn’t?”
He shook his head, a strange smile tugging at his lips. “I was jealous, yeah. But I was turned on, too. I kept thinking about it all night. You, with him. The way you sounded. I couldn’t stop.”
I let out a shaky breath, the guilt fading, replaced by something else. “You’re not angry?”
He squeezed my hand. “No. I want you to be honest with me. If you want it again, if you want him, I want to know. I want to be there. I want to see it.”
I blinked, barely believing him. “You want to watch?”
He nodded, his voice firmer. “Yes. I want to see you enjoy it. I want to see you with him. I want to be part of it this time. No secrets.”
I sat in stunned silence, the weight of everything we’d just said hanging between us. For a long time, neither of us spoke. The kettle clicked off. The sun crept higher through the window. My heart still raced, but the fear was gone, replaced by a slow, burning anticipation.
I didn’t say yes. I didn’t say no. I just squeezed his hand, letting the new reality settle between us. For the first time, I felt seen. Wanted. Safe. And I knew, when the time was right, I’d want it again, with Mark watching, with nothing left to hide.
Mark left for work not long after, his hand lingering on my hip a moment longer than usual before he disappeared out the door. The house felt emptier than ever, but my mind was anything but quiet.
I tried to distract myself: I made coffee, tidied the kitchen, and scrolled through the news. But every idle moment, every pause, my thoughts drifted back to Jack. The way he’d touched me. The way he’d taken me. The way I’d let him do things I’d never let anyone else do. I pressed my thighs together, feeling the ache he’d left inside me, the slick memory of his cum still vivid in my mind.
By mid-morning, I couldn’t focus on anything. I sat on the sofa, legs curled beneath me, phone in hand. My heart thudded as I opened Jack’s messages. I stared at his name for a long moment, nerves buzzing, then typed:
I can’t stop thinking about you. About last night.
His reply was instant.
I can’t stop either. I keep replaying the way you sounded when you came for me. I want to hear it again.
A flush crept up my neck. My hand slid down to my thigh, fingers tracing lazy circles.
You made me lose control. I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you. I’m aching for you right now.
Jack: Show me. Tell me what you’re doing.
I hesitated, then let my robe fall open, baring my skin to the cool air. I snapped a photo of my bare thighs, my hand resting between them, and sent it.
I’m touching myself, thinking about your cock inside me. I’m so wet, Jack.
Jack: God, that’s perfect. I wish I were there. I’d make you spread your legs wider, taste you until you begged for my cock.
A shiver ran through me. I slid my fingers lower, teasing myself, drawing out the anticipation. I want your mouth on me. I want you to pin me down and fuck me hard, just like last night. I want to feel you filling me up again, making me yours.
Jack: Are you wet for me right now?
Yes. Dripping. I can barely keep my hand still.
Jack: Don’t go easy on yourself. I want you to make yourself come for me. Show me how much you want it.
I propped the phone against my thigh, spreading my legs wider on the sofa. I traced slow, teasing circles over my clit, hips shifting restlessly. I took another photo, fingers glistening, and sent it. I’m so close already. I keep thinking about how you felt inside me, how deep you went. I want you to watch me come.
Jack: I want to see you. Video?
I hesitated, then switched to video, my heart racing as I propped the phone so Jack could see everything. The screen flickered, and suddenly there he was, shirtless, grinning, his hand already wrapped around his swollen, hard cock.
His voice was low, rough with want. “Let me see you, Emma. Open your robe. Show me how wet you are for me.”
I let the fabric fall away, spreading my legs wider, my fingers glistening as I touched myself. I heard his breath catch.
“Fuck, you look incredible,” he groaned. “Touch your clit for me. Slow, just like I did to you last night.”
I did as he said, circling my clit with two fingers, teasing myself, making him watch every movement. My breath came faster, hips shifting restlessly on the sofa.
He stroked himself, eyes locked on my body. “God, I wish I were there. I’d get on my knees and taste you until you begged for my cock. Would you beg for it, Emma?”
“Yes,” I gasped, not caring how desperate I sounded. “I’d beg for you. I want you so badly.”
He grinned, his voice getting rougher. “Slide your fingers inside. I want to see how ready you are for me.”
I pushed two fingers in, moaning at how easily they slipped inside. “I’m soaked, Jack. I can’t stop thinking about you fucking me. I want you to fill me up again, just like last night.”
“Don’t stop,” he said, his hand moving faster. “Rub your clit while you fuck yourself. I want to watch you come for me.”
I did as he said, my body tightening, the pleasure building higher with every word he spoke. “You make me so fucking wet. I want you to come inside me again, fill me up while my husband’s at work. I want you to ruin me for anyone else.”
He groaned, his voice thick. “You’re so fucking dirty. I love it. Come for me, Emma. Let me see you lose control.”
I rubbed harder, hips rocking against my hand, eyes locked on his. The tension snapped, and I cried out, my body arching off the sofa, my orgasm crashing over me, raw and intense. I kept touching myself, drawing it out, wanting him to see every shudder, every gasp.
Jack’s voice was ragged. “That’s it, baby. Fuck, you’re perfect. Next time, I want to see you come for me in person. I want to watch you whilst he watches us.”
I slumped back, breathless and sated, the aftershocks rolling through me. The guilt was still there, but it was drowned out by something stronger: desire, anticipation, the thrill of risk. I wanted Jack again, and I wanted Mark to see it. I wanted everything, and I was done pretending otherwise.
After the video call ended, I lay on the sofa, breathless and tingling, my body still humming from the orgasm Jack had coaxed out of me through the screen. I stared at the ceiling, heart pounding, the taste of risk and longing heavy in my mouth. I picked up my phone, thumb trembling, and sent him one last message.
I want you again. Very, very soon.
He replied with a single word – “soon” – and a photo of his cock, still hard for me. I grinned, flushed and shameless, and pulled my robe closed, forcing myself to get up and move.
The rest of the day dragged. I tried to clean, to read, to do anything but think about Jack, but it was useless. Every idle moment, my mind wandered back to him. I replayed the way he’d looked at me on video, the sound of his voice telling me exactly what to do. I felt the ache between my legs again, as if he’d left a mark that wouldn’t fade.
I folded laundry and found myself picturing his hands on my body. I tried to make lunch and ended up staring out the window, remembering the way he’d filled me, the way I’d begged for more. I scrolled through my phone, reading old messages, my skin prickling with anticipation every time I saw his name.
By late afternoon, I was restless and desperate. I couldn’t focus. I couldn’t sit still. I kept glancing at the clock, counting down the minutes until Mark would be home, until I’d have to pretend I was normal again.
But I wasn’t normal. Not anymore.
I sat back down on the sofa, heart racing, and slipped my hand beneath my robe. My fingers found my clit, still slick and swollen, and I closed my eyes, letting the images of Jack take over. I imagined him kneeling between my legs, tongue deep inside me, making me shake. I imagined him flipping me over, fucking me hard, and filling me up while my husband was away.
I pressed two fingers inside, moaning softly, hips rocking against my hand. I didn’t care how loud I was. I wanted to come again, needed it, and needed to feel that wild, reckless pleasure one more time before Mark walked through the door.
I was close, so close, when I heard the front door open. I froze for a split second, but the need was too strong. I kept going, rubbing harder, breath coming in ragged gasps.
Mark’s footsteps echoed in the hallway. He called my name, but I couldn’t stop. The orgasm crashed over me, raw and intense, and I cried out, body arching off the sofa as I came, Jack’s name on my lips as I climaxed.
He stepped into the room just as I was coming down, my robe open, my hand between my legs, the evidence of my desire plain for him to see. He stared, eyes wide, caught between shock and something darker.
I met his gaze, breathless and unashamed. For the first time, I didn’t try to hide what I wanted. I let him see everything.
He stepped into the lounge and stopped dead. His eyes widened as he took in the scene: me sprawled on the sofa, robe gaping open, my legs parted, my fingers glistening. I met his gaze, cheeks flushed, chest heaving, too far gone to pretend.
For a moment, Mark just stared, stunned. Then I saw it: the way his eyes darkened, the way his lips parted, the unmistakable bulge already growing in his trousers. He was aroused. The shock on his face melted into hunger.
He closed the door behind him, never breaking eye contact. “Emma…” His voice was rough and uncertain, but I could hear the need in it.
I didn’t look away. I let my robe fall open, exposing everything, my thighs still slick and trembling. “I couldn’t help it,” I whispered, my voice raw. “I kept thinking about Jack. About what he did to me. I needed it again.”
Mark swallowed, his gaze locked on my body. He stepped closer, his arousal obvious now. “You… you were thinking about him? While you did that?”
I nodded, not hiding, not ashamed. “Yes. I was thinking about how he fucked me. How he made me come. How much I want him again.” I watched the effect my words had on him: the way his breathing quickened, the way his hand drifted to his belt.
He knelt beside the sofa, eyes roaming over me, hungry and awed. “Show me,” he said, his voice barely more than a growl. “Show me what you did. Don’t stop.”
I slid my fingers back between my legs, still wet and sensitive, and started to touch myself again, slower this time, letting him see everything. Mark watched, transfixed, his own hand moving to free his cock, stroking himself as he watched me come undone all over again.
The room was thick with heat and need; the boundaries between us changed forever. For the first time, I let him see all of me, my desire, my need, my craving for Jack. And I saw the truth in his eyes: he wanted this, too.
I came again, harder this time, my cries echoing in the quiet house. “Fuck, Mark, I need you, now.” He leaned in, kissing me, tasting my breath, hungry for more. There was no shame, no fear, just the wild, reckless thrill of being wanted, of being seen, of knowing we were both ready for whatever happened next.
Mark stared at me, his eyes wide and locked on the sight of me sprawled on the sofa, robe open, my fingers still glistening, my thighs parted, my chest heaving as the last waves of orgasm shuddered through me. For a heartbeat, neither of us moved. My breath came in ragged bursts.
He crossed the room in three strides, his eyes never leaving my body. He knelt between my legs, his hands rough and desperate as he pushed my robe wider, exposing everything.
He didn’t say a word. He just grabbed his cock, hard and leaking, and pressed it against my entrance, pushing inside me in one urgent, hungry thrust. I was so wet, my body ready for him, and he slid in deep, filling me in a way that was both familiar and shockingly new.
Mark fucked me hard and fast, with none of the usual hesitation. He gripped my hips, dragging me to the edge of the sofa, his breath hot and uneven against my neck. The sound of his skin slapping against mine filled the room, raw and loud, echoing off the walls. I wrapped my legs around him, pulling him deeper, hungry for every inch. His hands were rough, almost desperate, as if he needed to claim me right there, to remind himself I was his. I clung to him, my mind a blur of guilt and wild excitement, loving the way he lost control, loving that I could still make him want me this much.
He groaned, his voice thick with need. “God, Emma… fuck… I can’t believe…”
I cut him off with a moan, my nails digging into his back. The pleasure was overwhelming, my body still sensitive from before, every thrust sending sparks through me. I was already close, the risk and the heat and the wildness of it all pushing me right to the edge.
He buried his face in my neck, his thrusts growing frantic. “You were thinking about him?” he panted. “While you touched yourself?”
“Yes,” I gasped, not hiding, not ashamed. “I was thinking about Jack. About how he fucked me. About how much I want him again.”
That did it. Mark’s hips snapped harder, his cock swelling inside me. I felt my orgasm build, sharp and unstoppable. I let go, crying out as I came, loud, raw, no holding back. My body clenched around him, and in the middle of it, I heard myself say it, breathless and wild: “Jack… oh, Jack…”
The sound of Jack’s name on my lips seemed to hang in the air. Mark’s body tensed, his thrusts faltering for a split second, but then he groaned, coming hard, as if my confession pushed him over the edge. I shuddered, half ashamed, half exhilarated, knowing we’d crossed a line we could never uncross.
He stayed inside me for a moment, forehead pressed to mine, both of us breathing hard. There was no shame. No fear. Just the wild, reckless truth of what we both wanted. For a moment, we just breathed together, tangled and spent. I searched his eyes for regret, for anger, but all I saw was hunger and something like awe.
Mark was still catching his breath, his head resting on my shoulder, his body heavy and warm on top of me. I could feel his cum slowly leaking out, mixing with my own slickness, the scent of sex thick in the air.
He lifted his head and looked at me, his eyes searching mine. There was no anger, no confusion, just hunger and a spark of something new, something reckless.
I reached up and touched his cheek, not bothering to close my robe. “I want him again,” I whispered, my voice trembling but sure. “I want Jack. I want you to watch me with him.”
Mark’s eyes darkened. He swallowed, then nodded, his hand sliding down to my thigh, squeezing gently. “I want that too,” he said, his voice rough. “I want to see you lose control for him. I want to see everything.”
A thrill shot through me, excitement, relief, and a wild, greedy anticipation. I pressed my lips to his, tasting the salt and heat of our shared desire. “Invite him,” I said, my voice barely more than a breath. “I want him here. I want you here. No more secrets.”
Mark’s hand tightened on my leg. “I’ll call him. Tonight, if you want.”
I nodded, my heart pounding, my body already aching for more. “Yes. Tonight. I need him, Mark. I need you to see it.”
He smiled, hungry and amazed, and reached for his phone.
As he stepped away to make the call, I lay back on the sofa, body still humming, mind racing with images of what would come next. Jack’s hands on me, Mark’s eyes on us, no shame, no hiding, just raw, honest pleasure and the thrill of being wanted by both men at once.
I closed my eyes and let myself imagine it, every detail vivid and real. I knew I’d never be the same. I didn’t want to be.
Mark’s hands were still trembling as he reached for his phone. I watched him, my body sprawled open on the sofa, robe barely clinging to my shoulders, thighs sticky with both our release. The air was thick with the scent of sex and something even wilder, expectation.
He didn’t hesitate. He found Jack’s name and hit call, glancing at me as the line rang. I saw the hunger in his eyes, the raw need, the way his cock was still half-hard, glistening with the evidence of what we’d just done.
Jack answered, his voice low and rough. “Hey, mate. Everything alright?”
Mark looked at me, then back at the phone. His voice was steady, but I could hear the edge in it. “Yeah. More than alright. Listen, Emma and I, we talked. She wants you again. I want you here. Tonight.”
There was a pause, then Jack’s tone changed, darker, eager. “You’re sure? Both of you?”
I sat up, letting the robe fall away, not caring that Mark was watching. I leaned close, pressing my lips to the phone. “Yes, Jack. I want you. I want you to fuck me again. And I want Mark to watch.”
I could hear Jack’s breath catch. “Fuck. You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this. I’ll be there as soon as you want.”
Mark’s hand gripped my thigh, possessive and encouraging. “Tonight. Come over after work. No games, no secrets. We want you to see everything.”
Jack’s answer was immediate. “I’ll be there. And Emma, this time, I want you to look me in the eye when I make you come. I want him to see how much you need it.”
A shiver ran through me, anticipation flooding every nerve. “I want that too, Jack. I want you both. I want you to use me, and I want Mark to see every second.”
Mark ended the call, his eyes burning into mine. “It’s happening,” he said, his voice thick with disbelief and desire. “He’s coming tonight.”
I grinned, heart pounding, body already aching for more. “I can’t wait.”
We both knew, tonight, everything would change. And neither of us wanted to stop.
As the sun dipped low, the house felt charged, every breath, every movement electric with possibility. I caught myself pacing, checking my reflection, changing outfits twice. Mark watched me, his gaze steady, a silent promise in his eyes. Every brush of his hand, every look, told me he was just as hungry, just as nervous, and just as ready for what was coming.
We barely spoke as the hour approached. I reapplied lipstick, fixed my hair, and slipped into black lace, something bold, something that left little to the imagination. My heart hammered as I heard Mark’s phone buzz. He glanced at the screen, then at me, his voice low: “He’s here.”
The doorbell rang. My knees went weak. Mark squeezed my hand, grounding me, and then moved to answer.
Jack stepped inside, taller and broader than I remembered, his presence filling the room. His eyes swept over me, hungry, lingering on the curve of my breasts, the bare skin above the lace. He didn’t hesitate. He crossed the room and pulled me into his arms, crushing my body against his. I felt his cock, already hard, pressing against my stomach through his jeans. His hands slid down my back, gripping my ass as he kissed me, open-mouthed, hungry, his tongue pushing between my lips.
I moaned into his mouth, my body melting against him. Mark stood just a few feet away, silent, watching every movement. I could feel his eyes on us, the heat of his stare making my skin burn.
Jack broke the kiss, his breath hot on my cheek. “You look incredible,” he growled, his hands roaming up to cup my breasts through the thin lace. “I’ve been hard all day thinking about you.”
I arched into his touch, shameless, desperate. “I want you, Jack. I want you right now.”
He kissed me again, rougher this time, his hands everywhere, tugging my hair, squeezing my hips, sliding under my lingerie to pinch my nipples until I gasped. I could hear Mark’s breathing, heavy and uneven, as he watched us.
Jack pulled back just enough to look me in the eye, his voice low and raw. “You want him to see everything, don’t you?”
I nodded, my voice barely more than a whisper. “Yes. I want him to see how much I need you.”
Mark stepped closer, his eyes dark, his arousal obvious. “I want to see you enjoy him,” he said, voice rough. “I want to watch you come for him.”
Jack grinned, his hand sliding between my legs, finding me wet and ready. “Then watch,” he said, his fingers teasing my clit as he kissed me again, deeper, harder, his body pressed against mine while Mark watched every second, hungry for more.
The night was just beginning.
