The next morning dawned crisp and quiet. Steve kissed Nicki’s shoulder before slipping out of bed, already in his running gear.
“Back soon,” he murmured. “Love you.”
“Love you too,” she whispered back, watching him go.
Nicki lingered under the covers a minute longer, body still humming from last night’s confessions. Eventually, she rose, slipped on a tiny pair of white panties, then wrapped the short claret silk robe around herself again—the one that felt like a secret—and padded barefoot toward the kitchen.
Halfway down the hall, she heard it: the steady hiss of the shower running. The bathroom door was ajar—not wide, just a careless few inches. Steam drifted out, carrying the clean scent of soap.
She should have kept walking.
Instead, she slowed. Heart thudding, she edged closer, telling herself she’d just check if he needed a fresh towel or something ridiculous like that.
Through the narrow gap, she saw him.
Jim stood under the spray, back partially turned, water streaming over broad shoulders still strong for fifty-five. His hand was wrapped around his cock—thick, veined, fully erect—and he was stroking himself slowly, deliberately. Not frantic. Almost leisurely. Head tipped back, eyes closed, a low groan lost under the water.
Nicki’s breath caught. Heat flooded her core so fast her knees weakened. She pressed a hand to her mouth to stifle the involuntary moan that tried to escape.
She should have left then.
But she stayed.
Her eyes locked on the rhythm of his hand—firm, unhurried strokes from base to tip, thumb occasionally brushing over the swollen head. His hips rocked subtly into his grip, muscles flexing along his thighs and stomach. A second low groan escaped him, deeper this time, vibrating through the steam.
Nicki felt her own pulse throb between her legs, panties growing damper by the second. She squeezed her thighs together, biting her lip as she watched him speed up—just slightly—his breathing turning ragged.
Then it happened.
Jim’s body tensed. His free hand braced against the tiled wall. His head fell forward, shoulders rounding as his hips jerked forward once, twice. Thick ropes of cum erupted from his cock, splattering against the shower wall and mixing with the running water, washed away almost instantly. He stroked through it—slow, milking every last pulse—until his hand stilled, chest heaving, a final satisfied groan rumbling from his throat.
Nicki’s knees nearly buckled. A fresh rush of wetness soaked her panties; she could feel it trickling down her inner thigh. Shame and thrill warred inside her—she’d watched him come, watched every shudder, every spurt—and she couldn’t tear her eyes away until he finally let go of his softening cock.
She fled to the kitchen on silent feet, cheeks blazing, body trembling.
She busied herself at the sink—rinsing nothing, really—when the shower shut off. Minutes later, Jim appeared in the doorway, towelling his hair, wearing only his dark blue robe loosely tied. The front gaped enough to show silver chest hair and the flat plane of his stomach.
“Morning, sweetie,” he said, voice warm and rough from the steam.
He stepped up behind her just like yesterday. One arm slid around her waist, pulling her gently back against him for a heartbeat. He pressed a slow kiss to the top of her head—lingering this time, lips brushing her hair, breath warm on her scalp.
Then his hand drifted lower. A firm slap to her arse—sharper than before—followed by a deliberate squeeze of one cheek through the silk, fingers kneading the flesh for a long second before he released her and stepped back to sit at the table.
“Coffee, sweetie, please?” he asked, casual as anything.
Nicki’s pulse roared in her ears. She nodded, unable to speak yet, and turned to the kettle.
This time she didn’t hurry to close the robe when it slipped. As she reached for the coffee jar on the high shelf, the tie loosened further. The silk parted completely on one side, baring the full curve of her small, firm breast—pale skin, pink nipple already tight from arousal and cool air.
Her heart raced—part shame, part thrill—as she held the pose just long enough, feeling his gaze like a physical caress.
Jim looked with piercing eyes—over her breast, her hard nipple, then down her exposed flat tummy and finally to her white lacy knickers.
She pretended to fuss with the grounds, letting him see for several long seconds before she finally retied the belt (loosely).
She poured his coffee, added a splash of milk the way he liked, and carried it over.
“Here you go,” she said, voice steadier than she felt. As she set the mug in front of him, she met his eyes with a small, knowing smile. “So… who’s the lucky lady friend you’ve been chatting to on the phone every night? She must be something special.”
Jim’s chuckle was low and unhurried. He took the mug, fingers brushing hers for the briefest second. “Just a bit of fun, darlin’. Keeps things interesting.” His gaze held hers a beat longer. “Why? You jealous?”
Nicki felt heat rise in her cheeks again, but she didn’t look away. “Maybe a little curious,” she replied softly, then turned to walk away before he could answer.
As she turned from Jim, she glanced down—couldn’t help it—and saw the unmistakable thick ridge tenting the front of his robe.
Her stomach flipped. Wetness trickled inside her panties.
She escaped upstairs just as the front door opened and Steve stepped in, cheeks flushed from the run, breathing hard.
“Morning, gorgeous,” he called, kicking off his trainers.
Nicki met him at the top of the stairs, robe still slightly askew, face flushed.
Steve’s eyes narrowed, reading her instantly.
“What happened?” he asked quietly, pulling her into the bedroom and shutting the door.
She told him everything—whispered, breathless—the open bathroom door, Jim stroking himself under the shower, how she stayed and watched him come hard, ropes of cum hitting the tile, the way he’d held her longer this morning, squeezed her arse, the deliberate flash of her breast and her knickers, asking him about his “lady friend,” the bulge in his robe when she left.
Steve listened, cock hardening visibly in his shorts.
“How wet are you right now?” he asked, voice rough.
Nicki guided his hand under the robe. His fingers slid through her panties and her soaking wet pussy lips. “You’re drenched.”
“Fuck,” he breathed.
She pressed against him. “Seeing him finish like that… thick spurts… knowing he was lost in it… and then him touching me downstairs… and that little smile when I asked about his phone calls…”
Steve kissed her hard, backing her toward the bed.
“Tonight,” he promised against her mouth, “we’re going to read more. And you’re going to tell me every filthy thought that went through your head this morning—every detail of his cock coming, how it made your pussy ache—while I lick you and fuck you senseless.”
Nicki moaned softly into his kiss.
Downstairs, a faint sound drifted up—Jim humming softly to himself, the low notes carrying through the quiet house.
That evening, after a quiet dinner—roast lamb, potatoes, a bottle of red shared between the three of them—Steve stretched dramatically in the lounge.
“God, I’m shattered,” he announced, rubbing his neck. “Early night again?”
Nicki caught his eye, a small, knowing smile playing on her lips. “Absolutely.”
Jim raised his glass from the armchair, his smile slow and knowing. “You two go on. I need to make a call anyway. Don’t let me keep you.”
His tone was casual, almost teasing, but the words hung in the air like a deliberate hint. Nicki felt a fresh flush creep up her neck; Steve’s hand tightened slightly on hers.
They said goodnight and climbed the stairs hand in hand, the air between them thick with anticipation—and a new layer of awareness.
In the bedroom, door locked, they slid under the duvet. Moonlight spilled across the sheets. Steve reached for his phone and scrolled quickly, a wicked glint in his eye.
“I found something new today,” he murmured. “While you were out earlier. A story where the husband encourages his wife to fuck his best friend—tells her how much it turns him on, watches them, even guides them. Thought it might… fit.”
Nicki’s breath hitched. “Read it to me.”
Steve’s voice dropped low and rough as he began.
“He watched his wife across the room, her robe slipping open just like it had that morning. ‘Go on, love,’ he whispered. ‘Let him see you. Let him touch you. I want to watch my best mate fuck you… see that pretty pussy take his cock while I stroke myself.’”
Nicki’s hand found Steve’s cock under the sheet, stroking slowly.
Before Steve could continue, the low rumble started again from the guest room—Jim’s voice, gravelly and deliberate, carrying through the thin wall.
“…that’s it, Jenny… spread those pretty legs wider… show me that wet little pussy… fuck, look at you, all pink and glistening for me…”
Nicki froze, eyes widening. Steve paused mid-sentence, then grinned darkly and kept reading, his voice weaving around Jim’s words.
“…‘She wants it,’ the husband said. ‘She’s been wet thinking about you. Spread her legs, mate—show me how you fill her. Fuck her slow at first, make her moan your name… then harder. I want to hear her come on your cock.’”
Jim’s voice drifted louder for a moment.
“…yeah, Jenny… finger that tight hole… imagine it’s my tongue… come for me, darlin’… soak me while I fuck you…”
Nicki whimpered, her grip tightening on Steve’s cock. “He’s talking to her again… right now.”
Steve’s free hand slid between her legs, finding her drenched. He kept reading, voice rougher now, syncing with the rhythm of Jim’s call.
“The friend slid inside her… slow, deep… the husband watched, stroking himself. ‘That’s it,’ he groaned. ‘Fuck my wife… fill that pretty pussy… make her come for you while I watch.’”
Jim’s tone grew rougher through the wall.
“…gonna fill you up, Jenny… feel you clench around my cock… come for me now…”
Steve set the phone aside, rolling Nicki beneath him. He kissed her deep, then pulled back, eyes locked on hers.
“Tonight you’re Jenny,” he said, voice dropping to that gravelly mimic of Jim’s. “And I’m Jim. Say it.”
Nicki’s breath hitched. “Jim.”
“That’s right, Jenny,” he growled, sliding two fingers inside her, curling them. “Spread those pretty legs for me… let Jim see that wet little pussy.”
She moaned, hips rocking. “Jim… yes…”
He thrust his fingers deeper, thumb circling her clit. “Tell Jim what you saw this morning. Tell him how you watched him come—how his cock pulsed and shot for you.”
“Thick… hard… coming so hard,” she panted. “Ropes of it… I wanted to watch him finish… wanted him to know I was there.”
Steve positioned himself between her thighs, rubbing the head of his cock along her slit. “Jim would love that, Jenny. Love knowing you were dripping for him while he came. Now take my cock—take Jim’s cock.”
He slid in slow, one deep thrust, burying himself fully. Nicki gasped, nails digging into his shoulders.
“Fuck me, Jim,” she whispered, voice trembling with heat.
He started moving—steady, possessive rolls of his hips. “That’s it, Jenny… tight little pussy squeezing me… you’ve been thinking about this all day, haven’t you? Watching me come in the shower, flashing me your tits and knickers… you’re such a naughty girl for Jim.”
Nicki arched, legs wrapping around him. “Yes… harder, Jim… fuck your Jenny…”
He obliged, thrusting faster, the bed creaking softly. “Come for me, Jenny… come all over Jim’s cock… let me feel that pretty pussy pulse.”
The words tipped her—she shattered, clenching hard around him, crying out “Jim!” in a muffled gasp. He followed seconds later, groaning deep, spilling inside her with erratic jerks.
They collapsed, tangled and breathless, foreheads pressed.
After a long moment, Nicki kissed his jaw, voice soft. “Hearing him talk to her… while you read that story… it felt like everything was happening at once.”
Steve smiled into her hair, back to his normal tone. “We’re playing with fire now.”
Down the hall, the house was quiet.
Except for the faint click of a remote—someone turning the TV volume down again.
For now, they didn’t move to check, but Nicki’s mind was racing!
Have we just put another log on the fire?
