The Taste of Another Man

The door slammed so hard the keys rattled in the entryway. I flinched, looking up from my phone. Her. Back. Two days earlier than she'd promised.

"You didn't come to meet me?" Her voice was low, husky, like she'd been running. Or screaming.

I got up from the couch. She stood in the doorway, heat radiating off her in waves. Her jacket hung open, and underneath she wore only a thin dress I'd never seen before. A dark, wet stain marked the fabric at hip level. She followed my gaze and smirked—slow, possessive.

"Help me undress."

I stepped closer. She smelled of someone else's sweat, tobacco, and something else... sweet and heavy. My fingers found the zipper of her jacket. She caught my hand and pressed it to her breast—a hard nipple pushing against my palm through the fabric.

"Did you miss me?" she asked, holding my gaze. "I did. Terribly."

And without waiting for an answer, she turned and walked into the bedroom. She pulled the dress over her head without looking back, dropping it on the floor. Her panties—a thin strip of lace—slid down, and she stepped out of them. Slowly. Deliberately slowly.

"Come here," she called, already on the bed, on her back, knees spread.

I stood in the doorway like an idiot, gripping the hem of my shirt. She propped herself up on her elbows, looking at me—from this angle, she seemed taller. More commanding.

"Take it off. Everything."

I undressed. She watched me peel off my jeans, watched my cock already hard, pressing against my stomach. She didn't smile. She looked at me hungrily, the way you look at food.

"Closer. Stand between my legs."

I obeyed. She took my cock in her palm, squeezed—once, twice. Then she brought it to her lips and ran her tongue along the head, never breaking eye contact. I hissed through my teeth.

"I want you to eat me out," she said, letting go. "From behind."

"What?"

She flipped onto her stomach, lifted her hips, and knelt. She spread her ass cheeks with her fingers. And I saw. Her asshole was swollen, red, wet—not from sweat. Around it, a sticky sheen, like someone had... recently.

"You heard me," she said, voice muffled into the pillow. "Lick it. Their taste is still there."

I froze. She looked back over her shoulder, and in her eyes—a challenge. Or a plea? I couldn't tell. But I dropped to my knees behind her. I ran my tongue along the crease. She exhaled—long, with a moan.

"Yes..." she whispered. "Just like that. Deeper."

I licked again, now directly over the tight ring of muscle. She pushed back, grinding against my mouth. I gripped her ass with both hands, spread her wider. My tongue slid inside—she moaned louder, fingers clawing at the sheets.

"They were..." she started, her voice trembling. "They were huge. Both of them. You have no idea how they fucked me."

I paused. She lifted herself, straddled my face, pressed down on the back of my head, forcing me into her.

"Don't stop," she ordered. "Lick. I want you to feel how stretched I am. How they left me... open."

She spread her cheeks wider, and I saw she wasn't lying. The hole didn't fully close, gaping and warm, something thick slowly seeping out. My cum? No. Someone else's.

"The first one was dark-haired," she continued, rocking her hips, riding my tongue. "Tall, with big hands. He took me right at the bar, in the bathroom. Pinned me against the wall, hiked up my dress, and entered me from behind, no foreplay, while I was still wet from dancing."

I licked her, pushing my tongue deeper, feeling her tremble. She took my hand and guided my fingers to her pussy—hot, slick, slippery.

"Right here," she said, pushing my fingers inside. "Feel how wide I am? That was the second one. He was thicker. He entered me after I'd already come from the first, and I screamed because he stretched me so much I was afraid I'd tear."

I pushed in two fingers, then three. She moaned, sinking down onto them, and I felt her walls clench around them—and how loosely they fit. She was stretched, like someone had spent a long time working her open.

"They fucked me in turns," she breathed. "First one—in my pussy, then the second—in my ass. Then they switched. And then..." she laughed, low and throaty. "Then they decided I should be full. And they both entered me. At the same time. One in my cunt, one in my ass."

I froze. She whipped her head around, looking at me with darkened eyes.

"Are you jealous?" she asked. "Don't be. You're my husband. You're the one who licks me clean after them. You're the one who feels how two cocks spread me open, and you're the one who'll eat me out until I come from the memory."

She slid off my face, lay on her back, spread her legs, and grabbed my head with both hands, pulling me down to her soaking wet crotch.

"Lick all of me. My pussy and my ass. I want to feel your tongue everywhere their cocks were."

I lowered myself. I licked—first her clit, hard and swollen, then lower, to the stretched entrance, then lower still, to her asshole, still slick with another man's cum. She arched, moaned, fingers twisted in my hair.

"Yes! Just like that!" she cried. "Lick me clean! Make me clean! And then... then fuck my ass, just like they did. I want to feel your cock where theirs were."

I rose up. She flipped onto her stomach, got on her knees, arched her back, spreading her ass.

"Enter me," she whispered. "Don't be gentle. Fuck me like you're the third one. Like you want to leave your mark in me too."

I entered. She was—God—she was hot, and wet, and so wide that I felt her muscles close around me, but not tightly. I slid in to the hilt, and she screamed—not in pain, in pleasure.

"Yes!" she gasped. "Feel how open I am? They opened me up. And now—you. Pound me! Show me you're a man!"

I fucked her—hard, deep, grabbing her hips, slamming into her so her ass slapped against my thighs. She moaned, screamed, shouted their names—I didn't remember them—told me how one held her by the hair while the other spanked her ass while she cried from being filled double.

"I'm coming!" she screamed. "Don't stop! Fill me! Flood me!"

I felt her muscles clamp around my cock—convulsively, rhythmically—and I exploded inside her, spilling deep, feeling my cum mix with what was left of theirs.

She collapsed onto the bed, and I onto her. We lay there, breathing hard, slick with sweat. She turned her head, looked at me over her shoulder, and smiled—guilty, but satisfied.

"You're not mad?" she asked.

I kissed her shoulder.

"I am," I said. "But later. Right now—I want more."

She laughed, and I felt her body shake with it, felt my cock, still inside her, start to harden again.

"Well then," she said, "you're going to have to tell me what you're going to do with that... after I tell you how they came in my mouth."