There are lots of things I enjoy about sharing my wife with other men. The prepping, shaving and lotion applied to her feminine body before her date arrives. The mental anticipation I experience leading up to her fucking. The numerous images I jack off too of hotwives being fucked and satisfied by their strong virile alpha lovers. Their facial and bodily expressions and pure euphoria they feel while being penetrated by a satisfying cock.
You can’t forget the initial deep breath when she first allows his entry into her either. That’s cock hardening within itself.
But I have to say the most sexual and erotic moment of sharing my wife, for me, is when she takes his powerful cock in her hands. The way she delicately feels his full length, his girth, his curve that makes her cum, and his man balls that fill her.
I stand watching, rubbing myself some ten feet away as my wife of fifteen years buries her head at the base of his shaft, while holding the tip gently with her hand. The smile she gives him, watching his expression(s) as she licks and worships the cock that satisfies her most.
If you are astute at reading people she doesn’t have to say a word. Her emotions (and actions) are never revealed verbally to me as I fuck her sloppy seconds afterwards. But you know. You know she really enjoys his cock (more).
I have never received that kind of attention to my cock from her. Her blowjobs, to me, are quick and ‘matter of fact,’ never longer than a few minutes. That’s fine, and humiliating. She doesn’t touch my short cock like his. I love it. I love the second side of my wife. The side that enjoys sex with someone who can satisfy her.
I think I really am a cuckold. I would much rather watch, jack off, and clean cum, than fuck her.
This time in particular, as I stood there rubbing myself like a bookstore troll, she sucked on his cock for ten minutes. I watched and listened to her sucking and licking him. The sounds of air mixed saliva while she worshiped and jacked his throbber. I watched him fuck her face sensually.
That distance of ten feet could have been ten inches. They wouldn’t have noticed me. They are always in tune to each other.
Now, she stands in front of him, flush, and lifts up her jean skirt. No panties.
His cock – hard, his head red with the pressure she built from her hands and mouth. He settles back into the couch and welcomes her.
Her knees placed on both sides of him; her right hand still wrapped tightly around his cock. Back and forth she rubs it across her awaiting pussy as they passionately kiss. She stops, slides the head inside, her hand guided all the way down as he leans up, and she fully sits.
I so much want to smell her hand. Smell her juices, maybe taste them. But I stand there, like pervert and beat my meat.
Her hand reappears around his shoulders after a long absence.
“Ohhh…,” She moans, as his eight full inches are inside.