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Introduction to the trio


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on: June 12, 2019, 04:29:25 PM
They were both a little nervous, tense. It was their first time, their first contact with a new and unknown world, a world they wanted to explore although with more doubts than certainties.

For HIM it was not an unknown world but, always, the first approach is imbued with fears, each human being is a universe, full of unknowns that only treatment and touch can reveal. He had arrived shortly after nine o'clock and had settled into the half-hidden bar, with no expectation other than to distract himself for a while.

As he tasted a beer, he looked around.

Then he approached the table occupied by the couple he had just seen dancing with subduing sensuality. They talked.

An hour later they arrived at their apartment. The three of them were nervous, but the couple was more nervous.

He sat in the living room next to the man and while sipping coffee he told him what he had to tell them. If they weren't sure they wouldn't. That there were many reasons to do it and not to do it. He also asked for a few moments alone with each of the spouses.

She went to the bedroom to prepare herself while they had their conversation to alone: does it excite you to imagine your wife fucking with another one?

Then it was her turn with HIM sitting next to her on the bed, holding her hands and asking her if she wanted to show herself as much whore as she could be in front of her husband.

He called the man when he was convinced that the couple had understood and were willing to take the consequences.

A man is never the same when he sees his own wife caressing another man, when he sees that the shell of his female opens, wet and predisposed, to receive inside another man's cock. When he sees his wife surrendered, frenetically going up and down on another man's dick.

Some only groan or babble, others give themselves to reaffirm in a loud and shaken voice what is happening to them: Look, my love, look! He's fucking me! Oh, that's good! My love takes me and I'm enjoying it!

Those powders are priceless to him.

Nor is the woman the same after that. It definitely opens up to a different world.

Then, for all of us, come other darings. Certain things can hurt deep feelings, leave marks or footprints, bitter taste, so always be careful.

Kissing the tail and preparing the woman to offer it ready and moistened to the husband so that he will be the first one to access it is a rule rarely violated by him.

Sipping the conch at the same time as the husband takes it unrestrained is a gift for the senses.

Turning over to the sight of the female, that the semen runs freely descending through the breasts of the other's wife is also a gift.

He also likes to incite them both. To her, so that she may shelter between her breasts that well-known member, squeezing and releasing herself, marking with the rhythm of her man.

To him, rocking forward backwards, his dick wrapped by her breasts. She's opening her lips promisingly and enjoying it and provoking it.

Sometimes it also happens that HE places his index finger, rigid, well rigid and embedded in lubricant, his own semen even, to the doors of the tail of the woman. It is enough that she can be mounted on the husband, she on him, riding him, belly on belly, for the buttocks to be exposed offered: That is when HE goes for his place and all he does is let the female know that there is also something behind her. All you have to do is make the slightest contact.

She will arch and in her own sway she will search for what, a moment before, barely grazed. He'll go forward to gain momentum so he can go further back. And he will do it again and again and contain the orgasm as much as possible, because he will desperately seek to feel that it is the one he possesses, to feel that this mimic of a male member comes in and out of his inner self, at his mercy, under his will.

At other times, when one has the freedom of an entire night and also of its continuity in the following morning, HE obtains what, in his concept, is the maximum moment of rejoicing.

After several hours of exercise, sex, and sweat, everyone is physically exhausted. It's time to abandon yourself to Morpheus' arms and sleep. Usually the woman is wrapped by the two men.

He has a facility, a natural gift, to wake up before dawn.

The warmth of the female body lying next to you is reason enough to remember how and why it is there. He passes his arm over the woman's body, wraps her, reaches her belly with his hand and draws her towards himself, making him feel the pressure of his limb stuck to his tail. The human nature is remarkable, almost always, before it, the woman wakes up and responds with a purring of pleasure.

He invites the woman: ...not to wake up....if she wakes up you stay still....and if she doesn't wake up....better, underlining that better by squeezing her more towards him.

Slide the hand from the belly, gently enrieda the fingers in the pubic hair, follow the movement, slide the soft palm following the outer contour: the hip, the birth of the thigh, the thigh to almost reach the knee of the woman. She enters through the thighs looking for the inner face, she wants to turn and HE prevents it by pressing with his chest and legs. The hand goes back on its steps and undoes the previous journey along the same external path to the hip. Then he goes down again to insinuate himself again on the inner face, between the thighs, in his descending course. He reaches down to the knee, grasps it just with his fingertips and invites it to open, to open and to lift the knee.

That's when He withdraws a moment backwards, to settle in. The woman's knee is elevated and the leg half open, exposing her shell. That's when it happens, one that slips and another that welcomes you into its boiling interior.

Just the rubbing of the skins against each other and the skins on the sheets. Both holding their breath so as not to awaken their husbands, panting inwards, doing the possible and impossible not to give themselves away.

She, fucking a stranger, next to the husband who sleeps peacefully ignoring everything. Him fucking the wife, without the husband knowing. Her, letting herself be fucked.

Moving barely, content, striving not to give himself away. It's almost impossible not to let out some moaning, but they both help each other. HIM with the song of the hand in her mouth, so that she bites. EL, mouth open over the roundness of a shoulder, to bite.

Faster and bolder, bolder and bolder.

To get to what you both need.

At the moment of coming, when opening the floodgates, there yes, for both, it is inevitable to open, also to open the floodgates of the throats and to let go, to launch a groan that is almost a snore. It's inevitable.

And it can happen that the husband wakes up, drowsy. That's it, it's happened, it couldn't be helped.

It's all a matter of taking the reins with absolute control at that moment.

Look what a beautiful cock to suck you have there, incites EL.

And no woman has ever doubted, in those moments, to go with her mouth in search of the member that is offered to her and to suck and sip it, until that man, her husband, spills completely into her mouth.

It often happens that HE, with the song of the hand, takes the opportunity to rub the shell to the woman from behind, because an orgasm to them does not displease in the least and does not exhaust them either.

A man is no longer the same, after having consented to another man taking what is his right under his nose and a woman will never be the same, after letting the husband know what he is capable of.


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