Chapter 3: The Proposal
The dishes were cleared, the kitchen wiped down, and the house had settled into that quiet hum of evening. Zack found her in the living room, curled into the corner of the couch with a glass of wine half forgotten in her hand. She looked up when he entered, and something in his expression made her set the glass down.
"Come with me," he said, and it wasn't a question.
Christine rose without hesitation, her body already responding to the command in his voice. She followed him down the hall, through the doorway of their bedroom, and the soft click of the door closing behind them felt like a seal on something new.
The bedside lamps cast their warm glow across the duvet, and Zack turned to face her. He took her hand and pressed it against the front of his trousers. The heat of him radiated through the fabric, and beneath her palm she felt the thick, straining length of him, hard and heavy and already leaking through the cotton.
"I called Joaquin today," he said, his voice low and steady.
Christine's breath caught. She had known, somehow, that this was coming. The thought of it had been simmering beneath the surface of her skin all day, every glance between them charged with the weight of the question neither of them had spoken aloud.
"You did," she said, and it came out barely above a whisper.
"He's very interested." Zack's hand covered hers, pressing her palm more firmly against his cock. "Very interested in the idea of joining us."
Her cunt flooded with heat at his words. She could feel the moisture gathering between her thighs, her lips swelling with the sudden rush of blood. It was real now, not a fantasy spinning in her head while she fucked her own hand in the shower. There was a man, a real man with a real cock, who wanted to be between her legs.
"Show me," Zack said, and he released her hand, stepping back. "Show me how much you want it."
He settled onto the edge of the bed, his eyes dark and fixed on her. Christine understood. She lowered herself to her knees on the plush carpet, the wool soft against her bare, aching cunt. She was still wearing the silk camisole from earlier, the midnight blue fabric pooling around her thighs as she knelt.
"Beg for it," he said.
She looked up at him, her mouth already watering at the sight of the thick outline straining against his trousers. "Please," she said, and her voice cracked on the word. "Please, Zack."
"Please what?"
"Please let me suck your cock." She reached for his belt, her fingers working the buckle with trembling urgency. "Please let me taste you while you tell me what's going to happen."
Zack's hand came down to rest on the back of her head, threading through her silver-streaked hair. "That's my girl."
She freed his cock from his trousers and the sight of it made her moan. He was thick, fully hard, the head flushed dark and glistening with a bead of pre-cum. She leaned in and took him into her mouth, her lips stretching around his girth, and the familiar weight of him on her tongue grounded her even as her mind spun with images of another man.
Zack groaned, his hips pushing forward slightly as she worked him. "When Joaquin comes," he said, his voice rough, "I'm going to have you on the bed. Naked. On your hands and knees, your ass in the air, showing him exactly what you look like when you're ready to be fucked."
Christine whimpered around his cock, her cunt clenching on nothing. She could see it, could feel the ghost of it, the way her body would present itself to a stranger.
"He's going to stand in front of you," Zack continued, his fingers tightening in her hair. "And you're going to take his cock in your mouth while I fuck your cunt from behind."
She sucked him deeper, her throat opening to take him, and the fantasy blazed through her mind. Two cocks, one filling her mouth, one buried inside her. The fullness of it, the obscene stretch of it. Her hips rocked against nothing, grinding her bare cunt against the carpet in a desperate search for friction.
"And when you're dripping and desperate," Zack said, his voice dropping lower, "I'm going to pull out and watch him take you. Watch him slide his cock into your wet, greedy pussy and fuck you while I stand there and stroke myself."
Christine's mouth worked him, her hand wrapped around the base of his shaft, pumping in rhythm with her tongue. Her thighs were slick now, arousal running down the inside of her legs. She had never been so turned on in her life. The reality of it was so much more potent than any fantasy, the sound of Zack's voice speaking the words out loud, the knowledge that another man was waiting in the wings.
"Tell me," Zack said, pulling her off his cock with a wet sound. "Tell me you want it."
"I want it," she gasped, her chin glistening with his pre-cum and her own spit. "God, Zack, I want it so badly. I want his cock in my mouth. I want to feel him fucking me while you watch, while you tell me how good I look taking another man's dick."
"You want to be filled up, don't you? Stretched out. Used."
"Yes," she moaned. "Yes, please. I need it. I need a real cock inside me, not a toy. I need to feel a man come inside me while you're there."
Zack pulled her up, his hands gripping her hips, and he walked her backward until her knees hit the edge of the bed. He pushed her down onto the duvet, spreading her legs, and she bare before him completely exposed, her shaved cunt on full display, her lips swollen and wet.
He knelt between her thighs and drove into her in one stroke. She cried out, her back arching, the thick length of him filling her completely. He fucked her hard and fast, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him deeper.
"A man who takes the time to clean up and prep for his favorite girl," he grunted against her throat. "Giving her exactly what she wants."
The words tipped her over the edge. Her orgasm crashed through her, her cunt clenching around his cock, her body shuddering. She came on his words alone, on the promise of what was coming, and Zack followed her over the edge, burying himself deep and spilling inside her with a guttural groan.
Afterward, they lay tangled together, both breathing hard. Christine's body hummed with aftershocks, and she could still feel the phantom weight of his words pressing on her arousal.
"He's coming Thursday," Zack said, his voice quiet. "He's coming to our house, and he's going to fuck my wife while I watch."
Christine pressed her face into his shoulder, a smile spreading across her lips. Thursday. Three days. She could already taste it.