We were away on a little family holiday, just the four of us. It was one of those rare weekends where everything felt simple and easy. We took the kids to the aquarium—they were wide-eyed watching the sharks and stingrays glide by. After that, we went to the cinema, shared popcorn, laughed at the movie, then found a cozy spot for dinner, just us, chatting over pasta and dessert. It felt like a perfect family weekend.

But everything changed with one message.

Jay posted a story—I saw it while scrolling my phone. He was in town. My heart skipped. Jay. We'd been with him once before in a threesome, and the memory still burned fresh in both of us. I showed my husband, and we just stared at each other. That unspoken tension instantly returned.

Later that night, when the kids were asleep, we talked. We both knew we couldn’t leave the kids alone. But the idea... it excited us both. “If you want to see him,” my husband said, “then go. I want you to.”

That was all I needed.

Saturday night, I took my time getting ready just for Jay. I wore my short black skirt, a matching black bra and G-string, and a tiny black top that hugged all the right places. I made sure my hair was perfect, my makeup bold. Then, just an hour before I left, I had my husband shave my pussy clean. The way he touched me with the razor, the way he looked at me while doing it—it made me even wetter.

I left at 6 PM. My heart was pounding, pussy already soaked. My husband kissed me goodbye while the kids were distracted. There was something so powerful about leaving like that—knowing what I was about to do and knowing he wanted it just as much as I did.

Jay met me at the hotel. He kissed me in the hallway, bold and confident, and we went up to his room. I sat on the bed, had a bite of a club sandwich, a sip of scotch, and let the tension build. He leaned in again, and this time the kiss was deep—hands on my thighs, my back arching toward him.

I unzipped his pants, wrapped my fingers around his thick cock, looked into his eyes, and asked, “Do you want a blowjob or my pussy?”

He grinned and said, “Stick it in for a bit.”

I didn’t even take my clothes off. I just pushed my panties aside, climbed on top of him, and slid him deep inside me. The moment he entered me, I moaned. He filled me in a way that felt so wrong but so right. We fucked like that—hot, raw, desperate—for a good 15 minutes.

Eventually, I climbed off of him and kissed my way down his chest, slow and teasing, until I reached his thick cock. I ran my tongue along the shaft, looking up at him while I let my lips just barely brush the head. I teased him like that—slow strokes of my tongue, soft kisses—until he twitched in anticipation. He was trying to stay composed, but I knew he was close.

I dropped to my knees, eager to taste him. I took him deep into my throat, and the way he groaned made me feel powerful. But he couldn’t handle it—he grabbed me suddenly, pulled me up, kissed me hard and forcefully, then spun me around and bent me over the edge of the bed.

Without saying a word, he slid back into my dripping pussy and started fucking me like he owned me. His hands gripped my hips tight as he drove himself deep, over and over, like he’d been holding this in for too long. Then I felt him slide a finger into my ass while still pounding me, and I gasped—completely filled, completely taken.

He flipped me onto my back, put my legs over his shoulders, and pounded me deep and hard. I lost track of time—moaning, begging, coming undone. My whole body felt like it was on fire.

After, we lay together in the quiet for a few minutes, catching our breath. Then he asked if I wanted to spoon.

As he lay behind me, he grabbed the lube, kissed the back of my neck, and whispered, “I want to feel your ass.”

And just like that, he slowly slid his cock into my ass. I hadn’t let anyone take me like that in years—not even my husband. But with Jay, I gave in completely. It felt filthy, intimate, unreal. I reached down and felt myself stretched around him, and I knew my husband would lose his mind when I told him.

We showered together after, and I dropped to my knees one more time, letting the water wash over me as I sucked him again—slow, deep, and greedy. Then we went for round two, this time with the curtains open. I rode him like I didn’t care who saw, bouncing on his cock, grabbing his shoulders, letting him take control again until he came hard inside me.

He didn’t know it, but I was still full when I left the hotel. I texted my husband on the way home: “Catching a cab now. Be home in 15.”

He told me later those were the longest 15 minutes of his life.

When I walked through the door, he looked at me like I was a goddess. I kissed him, told him it was amazing, and we headed to the bedroom. I undressed slowly, letting him take in every detail—my flushed skin, bitemarks, sore pussy, stretched ass.

I climbed into bed, started stroking his cock, and told him everything. Every filthy, honest detail that I could remember.

Then he slid inside me.

He didn’t even know I was still full of Jay’s cum.
He fucked me slowly at first, deep and possessive—like he could feel something different inside me but didn’t want to ask. He just held me tighter, breathed harder. I moaned into his ear, grinding my hips into him, letting him mix with what was already there. The way he looked at me said everything—he knew, even if I didn’t say a word.

Feeling both of them inside me, one after the other... it was something I’ll never forget.

And I know he won’t either.