Mike and Emma's Tale Book 2
Copyright© 2024 by Melissa Jewels
Chapter 11
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 11 - Marriage is all about discovery, right? For Emma and Mike, that discovery led them to cross a line they never thought they’d approach. They’ve taken the plunge, but now what? Do they go back to their normal routine, pretending it never happened, or keep exploring this strange, exciting path they’ve stumbled onto? How far can love stretch before it breaks?
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Consensual Romantic True Story Cuckold Sharing Slut Wife Wife Watching MaleDom Rough Spanking Polygamy/Polyamory Swinging Interracial Black Male White Female White Couple Exhibitionism Facial Masturbation Oral Sex Squirting Tit-Fucking Voyeurism Slow
I’m in bed, propped up against the headboard in our guest room, Emma leaning back against me, her back a warm curve against my chest. I hold her legs apart, my hands resting on her thighs, the smooth skin a familiar comfort.
Apparently, she’d seen this position in some online forum, some hotwife confession, and tonight, she wanted to make it our reality.
And me? Well, I wasn’t about to complain.
Neither was Marcus, judging by the look in his eyes.
He stands between her legs, his dark cock a menacing weapon aimed at my wife’s sweet, married pussy. He slaps her a couple of times, hard enough to make her shiver, her breath catching in her throat.
“Mmm ... ohh...”
Her body, flushed and trembling, screams for him, for the violation, the stretching, the sheer overwhelming blackness of him.
Her fingers dig into my arms, her eyes searching mine. The look on her face ... it’s a kaleidoscope of emotions. Pure, unadulterated lust, yes, but there’s something else there too. A vulnerability, a surrender, a... wildness. She’s more tonight. More uninhibited, more desperate.
More... everything.
“Relax that pussy, Em,” Marcus murmurs, his voice a low growl. “Just like before. Open up for me, sweetheart.”
I see her belly rise and fall, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps as she tries to relax her pussy muscles, to prepare herself for what’s coming. Her breasts, full and heavy, rise and fall with each breath, nipples hard, dark points against the soft light.
And it’s fucked up, I know it’s fucked up, but she looks beautiful. More beautiful than ever. This raw, uninhibited, needy version of my wife ... it’s like she’s been transformed, reborn in the fires of this forbidden desire.
I’m a monster. The thought echoes in my head. A selfish, depraved monster. I’m holding my wife’s legs open while another man— a man with a cock much bigger my own— is about to bury himself inside her.
What the hell are we doing?
But it’s too late for questions, too late for second guesses. The line has been crossed, the boundary breached. I’m in too deep, and the current is too strong to fight against.
Her eyes squeeze shut as Marcus parts her slick folds and plunges into her. Her nails dig into my arm and her body trembles as that huge, dark cock stretches her open.
“AHHHH!”
Even though I’ve seen this before, even though I know what’s coming ... the sight of Marcus sinking into my wife, of his dark cock disappearing into her, sends a numbing pain through me.
My gut twists, my chest aches, a physical manifestation of the jealousy, the betrayal, the sheer wrongness of it all.
And yet...
It’s also the most erotic thing I’ve ever witnessed. His cock, raw and powerful, stretching her open, filling her ... the contrast between his dark skin and her white flesh, his size and her... delicacy ... it’s a visual assault on my senses, a bomb going off in my brain.
“Fuck ... you’re tight,” Marcus groans. “Always so damn tight.”
“Maybe it has something to do with the size of your... equipment,” Emma coos, her voice strained.
He grins, then pulls out and thrusts back in with a jolt that makes her yelp.
“Ahh!”
He begins to fuck her, a slow, steady rhythm that allows her body to adjust, to accommodate him. He’s always done this, I’ve noticed. Taken his time at the beginning, stretching her out, preparing her.
Emma’s moans fill the room, a counterpoint to the rhythmic creaking of the bed. “So... big...” she whispers, her fingers digging into my arms. “Unghhh... ahhhh...”
Then, she reaches out, her hand cupping my head, pulling my face closer to hers.
“You seeing this, baby? Huh? His dick ... deep inside me...” She’s panting, her eyes bright with lust and something else ... a challenge. “Can you see how far he’s ... he’s reaching ... Mike?”
“Fuck, yes, Em,” I groan, my gaze locked on the point where their bodies join, the sight of him filling her, sending a wave of heat through me. “You look so fucking hot ... take his cock, baby ... let him open you up.”
The look on her face at my words ... the raw lust, the surrender, the unmistakable need...
She mouths something, but I can’t make it out.
“What ... what is it, Em?”
“C-Closer...”
I move my face closer to hers, until our lips are almost touching.
“Does it...” Her breath is hot on my skin. “Does it feel good, honey ... watching me ... getting fucked by his black dick? Right here in front of you...?”
“Oh, fuck yes, baby.” I groan. “You look amazing.”
She pulls me towards her, her lips crashing against mine, her tongue tangling with mine in a hungry, desperate kiss. I can taste the weed, the wine, the faint, lingering taste of him ... and it sends a jolt of pure lust through me, straight to the aching hardness in my groin.
We kiss, deeply, passionately, our bodies moving together, a familiar comfort in the midst of the chaos. And as I lose myself in the feel of her lips on mine, the taste of her tongue, the soft moans she’s making against my mouth ... I almost forget he’s there.
Almost.
“Ohhhhh! Yes! Fuck! Mike!”
Emma cries out my name as she comes, her body tensing, then convulsing beneath Marcus’s relentless thrusts.
And we’re kissing again. Really kissing.
It’s not the soft, tender kisses. This is different. Deeper. More urgent. Our tongues tangle, our breaths mingle, and I tell her, between moans, how fucking amazing she looks, how hot it is to watch her, to see her like this.
“God, Em ... you’re so beautiful...”
“Mike ... I...”
“You’re such a slut ... such a good slut...”
The words are filthy, degrading. And they make her moan, her body bucking against mine, her fingers tightening in my hair.
I guess seeing her making out with her husband while he fucked her lit a fire under Marcus, because he suddenly picked up the pace.
The slapping sounds of flesh against flesh echoed in the room, faster, harder, and Emma lurched in my arms, her nails digging into my back. I held her steady, her warm, wet body pressed against mine, as Marcus fucked the ever living shit out of her.
I can feel her moving beneath me, in sync with Marcus’s thrusts, a silent rhythm that connects us all, that binds us together in this twisted, beautiful dance. I’m hard again, the need for release a dull ache in my balls.
“Fuckkk, Emma, you’re squeezing so tight.” I hear Marcus grunts, his voice thick with pleasure.
It doesn’t take long.
“I’m ... I’m ... close...” She gasps, her voice stained.
I held her tighter, watching as her body begins to convulse, a wave of pleasure ripping through her. And then she came, her body convulsing around Marcus’s cock. I held her tight, feeling the tremors that ran through her, the waves of pleasure that washed over her.
I’d studied enough physiology to understand a little of what was happening to her, the changes her body went through as it prepared itself for this, for the taking.
I know enough about the science of it—all that stuff about increased blood flow and dilated pupils and engorged clits—to understand, on a basic level, what’s happening to her physically. Her lips swollen, her nipples hard as rocks, her chest and throat flushed with a heat, bright pink, that makes her skin glow, that primal signal of female receptivity...
But the biggest changes were happening in her groin. I could imagine the blood engorging her clit, her pussy lips swelling and darkening, cushioning Marcus’s thrusts, welcoming him deeper inside her.
it’s a transformation that’s both beautiful and deeply unsettling.
It’s fucking incredible, watching her come like this. With him. So quickly, so easily, her body a vessel for a pleasure I haven’t been able to give her, not tonight, not like this.
And it’s not just the physical changes. It’s the sounds she makes, the abandon in her cries, the way she calls his name.
The way her body yields so completely to him. Her orgasm with me, with us, are mind-blowing too. I’ve always been proud of how quick and readily she came with me, how she just gets lost when we’re together.
But this... this is different.
There’s a wildness, a raw, animalistic quality to it. It’s like she’s shedding her skin, revealing a part of herself she’s always kept hidden. And the sight of it, the knowledge that I’m witnessing something secret and sacred...
Marcus chuckles. “Now that you’re properly warmed up,” he says, his voice rough with satisfaction, “let’s really have some fun.”
Emma doesn’t answer. She’s still catching her breath, her body trembling slightly, lost in the afterglow of her orgasm. But she nods, her eyes meeting mine for a fleeting moment, a silent message passing between us, a shared anticipation of what’s to come.
“Mike ... your cock, baby ... give it to me. Now.”
I move, shifting my position so that I’m kneeling beside her head. I lift my cock, the head already glistening, and offer it to her.
On her back, spread-eagle beneath Marcus, she turns her head towards me, her eyes brimming with a lust I’ve never witnessed before. Taking me into her mouth, her lips swollen and slick, her movements erratic as Marcus continues to pound into her.
“Ohhhhh... hhhnnnn ... Mike... ” She moans around my cock, her eyes squeezed shut, her body arching.
“GAAAAAWWWDDDD ... YES! THAT’S IT!” She cries out, her voice wild. “I’m gonna ... I’m gonna cum again, Daddy! Fuck ... that’s ... so fucking good...”
Her entire body tenses, then convulses, a powerful orgasm ripping through her. And it’s different this time. Not just the usual earth-shattering release, but something more ... something wilder, more untamed.
Marcus keeps fucking her, his movements unwavering, driving her deeper into the abyss. He’s lost in his own pleasure, his grunts growing louder, more urgent.
I feel my own release building, the pressure coiling in my balls. And then, just as Emma’s cries reach a fever pitch, just as Marcus’s body tenses, his breath coming in short, sharp pants ... and I...
And then, like some kind of cosmic alignment, we both come too. It’s a chain reaction of orgasmic energy, triggered by Emma’s release, by the sight of her coming undone beneath us. Marcus groans, his cum erupting onto her stomach, a thick, glistening mess.
I explode, spraying my load across her face, her hair, her breasts, another layer of white against her flushed skin.
Emma, still lost in the throes of her orgasm, frantically rubs her clit, moaning, “Yes! Yes! Cum on me! Cum on my face ... fuck...” as we bathe her in our combined cum.
I collapse back onto my heels, spent. Holy. Fucking. Shit.
Did that just happen? It’s pure, unadulterated filth. Like something out of a porno. Regular women don’t beg for this. They don’t crave this kind of messy, degrading pleasure. But Emma ... She loves it. She fucking thrives on it. It’s mind-blowing.
I watch as she twitches beneath us, the aftershocks of her orgasm still rippling through her, a sated smile playing on her lips as she smears our cum across her skin.
She looks beautiful.
Marcus pulls back, also looking pretty damn pleased with himself.
Silence fall, thick and heavy. No one speaks. It’s a weird moment, this post-coital stillness, the air still buzzing with the aftershocks of our... explosion. I just sit there, on my heels, my body buzzing, not knowing what the fuck to do next.
After a while, Emma stirs. She pushes herself up, her movements slow and deliberate, and makes her way to the bathroom, her body glistening with sweat and cum, a living canvas of shared depravity.
I watch her go, my gaze lingering on her reddened ass. Her legs are wobbly, her ass still marked with the imprint of Marcus’s hand.
He really did a number on her. The thought crosses my mind, a mix of pride, jealousy, and a dark satisfaction I can’t quite explain.
She disappears into the bathroom, and I’m left alone with our neighbor, the silence amplifying the chaos in my head.
I get up and wander into the kitchen, like a zombie, my movements stiff, my mind numb. I grab a bottle of water from the fridge and take a long swig, trying to quench the thirst that has nothing to do with dehydration.
That was... something else.
It was ... intense. I stretch, trying to work out the kinks in my neck, the tension in my shoulders, trying to recompose myself, to process the sheer fucking insanity of it all.
And as always, once the rush fades, the doubts creep in. The familiar fear, the nagging questions.
Why do I like this so much?
The look on her face when he was inside her... I still don’t understand it.
The mix of lust, surrender, and something else ... something I can’t quite put my finger on. It’s unsettling.
It messes with my head, this whole thing, twists my desires into knots I can’t untangle. It’s a lot to process. My mind feels like a scrambled Rubik’s Cube.
I grab a couple of juice boxes and head back to the bedroom. As soon as I open the door, I see them. Emma and Marcus. On the bed. Kissing.
His big hands are cupping her tits, her fingers wrapped around his semi-flaccid cock, still slick with her juices, and I see it twitch in response to her touch.
A soft moan escaping her lips as he twists one of her nipples.
“Ahhhhhh... ” She swats at him playfully, a small smile curving her lips before pulling him back.
They’re kissing again, their mouths moving together, their tongues tangling in a lazy, sensual dance. There’s an ease to their intimacy, a comfortable familiarity, as if they’ve done this a thousand times before.
And the sight of it, the sheer rightness of them, even though it’s wrong...
It’s a punch to my gut. And a turn-on I can’t deny.
It’s a feeling I’m starting to recognize, something I both dread and secretly crave.
“Already going at it again?”
Emma pulls away from, her cheeks flushed, her lips swollen. “No, honey,” she breaths out, “we were just ... playing a bit.”
Marcus murmurs something in agreement, his hand still resting on her thigh.
I hand them the juice boxes, and we all settle on the edge of the bed.
Emma’s makeup is smudged, her hair a mess, but somehow, she still manages to look fucking hot— flushed, dishelved, her eyes gleaming with a sated contentment.
Exhausted, yes, but sexy as hell. Marcus definitely has a knack for leaving her looking... ravaged, in the best possible way.
We sit in silence for a while, sipping our juice, the only sound the gentle hum of the air conditioner.
“Okay,” she says finally, letting out a long, satisfied sigh. “That was ... fun.”
Marcus laughs, a deep, rumbling sound, and I join in, the tension that’s been coiled tight in my chest finally easing.
“So, was it as good as you ... imagined?”
“Better,” she says, her gaze meeting mine. “Way better.”
He turns to me, grinning. “I’m telling you, man, you’re married to a real freak.”
“I know.”
“Hey!” She protests, but there’s no real heat in her voice.
And just like that, the atmosphere shifts. The awkwardness fades, replaced by a shared sense of ... well, if not exactly normalcy, then something close to it.
I’m still not entirely comfortable with... this. These moments between them going at it.
It’s still weird, even after doing this twice now. I still have no fucking clue how to navigate this ... aftermath. This strange new dynamic.
But Emma ... she’s different tonight. There’s a new confidence to her, a boldness I’ve never seen before. The last two times, she’d been either drunk or stoned. But tonight ... she’s sober. Clear-headed. And somehow ... that makes it even hotter.
What brought on this change?
Marcus pushes himself off the bed, stretching his arms over his head. I glance down and notice, with a familiar pang of insecurity, that he’s almost hard again.
“So. Ready for another round?”
“Jesus christ,” she says, rolling her eyes playfully. “Do you ever stop?”
He chuckles. “Didn’t I tell you, sweetheart? I’ve been taking it easy on you...” he gestures towards his hardening cock, “this is just the pre-game show.”
“That’s ... something, I guess,” she giggles mischievously, “Though ... you were pretty impressive till now.”
“Oh honey, this is nothing. You should have seen me back in my... prime.”
Is he just boasting? Or was he really ... more? Back in the day? The thought flickers across my mind, a strange mix of curiosity and something I don’t want to examine too closely.
“Is that so?” I ask. “And how much more ... prime are we talking here, exactly? You got an extra inch or something?”
Marcus just laughs. “It’s not just about size, Mike, though ... that certainly helps.” He winks at Emma. “It’s about... technique. Pacing. Knowing how to use what you’ve got, when to push, when to hold back, when to... let go.”
“You make it sound like some kind of ... I don’t know ... Zen art or something.”
“It is, in a way.” He nods, his expression turning serious. “You need ... patience. Control. If you want to be really good at sex ... to make a woman come undone the way Emma just did ... you gotta be willing to take your time.”
“Seriously? Patience?”
“Of course. No one’s born a master, Mike.” He shrugs. “We all start somewhere. And believe me, it takes practice to learn how to... make a woman scream.”
“Okay, okay...” she interrupts. “How long are you two going to keep chatting? Because I’m starting to think this... ‘round two’ ... isn’t going to happen.”
“Someone’s getting restless, I see,” he grins, his eyes twinkling. “Ready for more of Daddy’s special attention, are you?”
“Maybe,” she grins slyly. “How about ... we see if I can make you... lose control this time?”
“Oh, is that the challenge?” He laughs. “I’d like to see you try, sweetheart.”
And just like that, we’re back in it.
This time, it’s me behind Emma, her ass facing me, my cock buried deep inside her, while she’s on her knees in front of Marcus, her mouth working its magic.
As soon as I slip in, I can tell the change. She’s looser, slick, pulsing from Marcus’s recent visit. I almost come right then and there.
The sensation is almost too much, a rush of heat and a possessive jealousy that makes me want to both fuck her harder and pull away completely.
But I mange to hold back, forcing myself to go slow, my gaze fixed on the scene unfolding before me.
Emma’s mouth is a wet, hungry vacuum, devouring Marcus’s cock with a fervor that’s both thrilling and unsettling. Her tongue swirls around the head, lapping at the slick, dark flesh, her lips stretched wide, her cheeks hollowing.