[AUTHOR'S NOTE: My stories are all about pushing limits. This one crosses a line. For those squeamish readers who are comfortable in their own little worlds, you can bash all you want but it's falling on deaf ears. I would merely make this point to some of the will-be critics of this story. Perhaps the most masculine hero of horny males of all time, Hugh Hefner, has admitted to acts during some of his many orgies that might be deemed totally incompatible with the lifestyle of a virile woman's man. Bet most of you didn't know that? Sexuality takes a lot of turns when the hormones are flowing. It doesn't mean that's who you are; it just means, that's what you did at that time. So, let's cross some lines and see how it goes, shall we?]
The incredibly fit stud sitting underneath my petite Asian wife completely drew me attention away from the birthday cake sitting on the coffee table in front of the two of them.
"Happy birthday, David, honey," my 29-year-old, slutty hotwife purred, her slender, sexy legs together as she sat sideways on her male friend's lap, in the corner of our sofa in our living room. Kitty was wearing a frilly, black lingerie set unfamiliar to me -- almost a tight, see-through black blouse, which was not buttoned but tied in a single knot between her sexy A-cup titties, and a French-cut bikini panty arching high over her slender hips. Her tiny 100-pound figure looked half the size of her sexy male friend, who also was unfamiliar to me. He was wearing only loose jogger's shorts, revealing a chiseled, hairy chest that wasn't ripped but didn't have a drop of fat or loose skin. His temples were broad and his steely gray eyes were deep-set, with closely-trimmed dark hair that was graying appropriately for his late-40's age.
As she sat sideways on the stud's lap, with her small back leaning against not just the sofa's armrest but the male long, strong arm, she had her smooth athletic legs stretched out onto the sofa. One of my wife's arms was reaching behind her friend's sturdy neck, while her other hand waived in the air, pointing to the small chocolate cake on the coffee table. She giggled playfully at the joke she was about to tell. "Told you I'd have a surprise for you -- you like the cake?"
Dropping my work laptop's black bag on the floor, I peeled my raincoat off and pulled up a chair to the opposite side of the coffee table, across from the two largely undressed adults. I felt my dick already demanding attention, throbbing in my underwear, seeing my wife perched on top of another man. As my eyes fell on his handsome face, I saw the stranger return a friendly, expectant gaze at me. He clearly had been fully appraised that Kitty's husband was due home from work soon on this birthday, and I guess Kitty's friend was going to be part of the celebration.
I noticed my wife's long hair, which typically is its natural jet-black shade, but as of the past weekend had been colored a playful reddish shade. It was smooth, silky, brushed out to its full length, it didn't look tangled or sweaty whatsoever. She had on ample amounts of makeup -- eyeliner, mascara, eye shadow, rouge, everything but lipstick. I immediately concluded that Kitty and the guy had not had sex already; or, if they had, she'd gotten showered and cleaned up, and re-applied her makeup.
Taking a seat on the chair, adjusting my legs so that my hardened cock could rest comfortably in my underwear, I nodded in the direction of our guest for the party. "Looks great," I punned, ambiguously referring either to the cake or her friend -- or both. "Are we going to have a little party now -- even before I eat dinner?"
Kitty giggled again, her arm behind the male's head bending so that her slender fingers could stroke his close-cut hair along his neck. She turned to look at the guy's face for a moment, smiling at what she saw, before looking back at me. "Oh, would you mind having dinner later, are you really hungry?" she softly asked me, with a slight grin. "I thought, you know, Dillon, you and me could have some cake, have a little party now -- so I can give you your present."
I gave "Dillon" a friendly smile, something most men wouldn't give a guy who was sitting with a nearly-naked wife. "Hey, Dillon -- so what do you know of this 'present' she has for me?"
Now, some guys think I'm gay -- or, worse, some type of wannabe homosexual -- because I get horny from seeing my wife with really good-looking, well-built men. It's true, I do; but I don't ever wanna fuck them myself. So I don't think I'm gay. But I will say: fuck, this man Dillon was handsome. Large, triangular chest with broad shoulders tapering down to a thin, fit waist; extremely flat, tight abdomen; arms that looked like concrete, chiseled with well-toned muscles; a well-groomed face that could have been in a corporate boardroom earlier in the day.
Dillon shrugged his mighty shoulders, tilting his charming face to the side for a moment. "Oh, I don't know -- your little wife here, she is full of ideas, all sorts of fun ones."
"Mmm," agreed Kitty, nodding at him, turning to face him, "you know it!" She leaned her body into his, resting the side of her torso against his hairy chest and her head against his neck, as she kept her eyes on me a few feet away across the room. "David, I thought I'd get you something for your birthday that I know you'd really, really, REALLY like." Then her free hand waived towards the lonesome cake on the short table between herself and me. "But, you first want some cake, are you hungry?"
Actually I was, but my aching erection in my pants -- seeing my sexy wife sitting on the hot stud's lap -- dictated my priorities at the moment. "Oh, I'm kinda hungry, but -- well you tell me -- are you hungry too, I can wait if you're not?"
My wife let out a low approving groan, while the male sporting the gold wedding band on his ring finger underneath her chuckled at my question. "Mmm, yeah," Kitty snickered, turning her gorgeous, flattened face to gaze her slanted Asian eyes up at her friend's face, "I'm hungry all right -- just, not for cake." (You know, I kind of expected that answer.) Still leaning her small frame into Dillon's larger body, my petite wife turned once again in my direction. "So you wanna go get into something comfortable, David, or you wanna, I dunno, go to the bathroom or get a bite or anything -- or, you wanna see your present?"