Pieces Of Us

The bedroom is surprisingly spacious, lit up by a cozy lamp next to the bed. There's a huge king-size bed that dominates the space, its headboard propped against the far wall, draped in a luxurious-looking white bed sheet. Dark wood furniture, plush carpet, tasteful lighting.

This is it,

I thought, my heart pounding.

This is where it happens.

"Anything you need, Mike, just let me know," Marcus says, setting my wife gently on her feet.

I can only nod, my throat suddenly feels too dry for words. The air buzzes with anticipation, and it hits me - I'm about to watch my wife have sex with another man... in his fancy bedroom... surrounded by jazz albums on the shelves.

But before I can even begin to process that thought, before I can even ask the questions swirling in my mind, Marcus turns to Emma.

"Arms up, sweetheart."

Emma complies, raising her arms slowly, almost robotically, as if in a trance. He reaches for the hem of her blouse, his fingers casually unbuttoning like he's done it a million times before.

He slips the blouse off her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor with a soft whisper of fabric. She stands before him now, clad only in her lacy black bra and high-waisted skirt, her bare arms exposed, and I feel a twinge of possessiveness, a primal urge to shield her, to hide her from his gaze.

The black lace of her bra does little to conceal the fullness of her breasts, the way they rise and fall with each nervous breath. I can't help but stare at point where the small, dark peaks of her nipples create tiny impressions on the soft material enveloping them.

He captures her lips in another searing kiss.

They kiss like they're starving, bodies pressed together, a tangled mass of limbs and gasps and unspoken need. His hands roam her back, his fingers marking into the soft flesh beneath her blouse, pulling her closer until there's no space left between them.

Then his hands find the straps of her bra, his fingers tangling in the delicate lace.

A sharp ripping sound cuts through the air -- the sound of lace surrendering to his touch. One strap snaps, then another, and the bra falls away, a tangle of silk and satin that lands at my feet with a soft thud.

Marcus doesn't even bother to look down, his attention solely focused on Emma, who's now completely exposed to his gaze, her breasts rising and falling with each tattered breath.

They are full, round, the skin smooth and pale, tipped with dark, hard nipples that pucker invitingly. They're perfect.

Carefully laying her down on the bed, his hands settle on her waist as she sinks into the plush mattress with a soft gasp. Moving closer, their eyes meet, and I'm unable to tear my gaze away as he casually unzips her skirt.

"Lift your hips, sweetheart."

Emma obeys as he slides the skirt down her legs. It pools around her ankles, a forgotten piece of fabric that no longer serves a purpose. Then he removes it gently and tosses it aside.

"Panties too, Emma," Marcus commands, his voice deeper now.

She reaches down, her fingers shaking slightly, and removes the scrap of lace, handing it to him with a hesitant nod.

He brings it to his nose, inhaling deeply, his eyes closed as if savoring her scent.

"You smell incredible."

She's completely naked now, lying on his bed, her body a landscape of curves and shadows in the soft light.

Her pupils are dilated, her lips slightly parted, her cheeks flushed. I've never seen her in such a raw, unguarded state, and the sight of her like this, completely at the mercy of another man, does something to me I can't even describe or name.

It is a foreign feeling.

Marcus glances at me. "Why don't you take a seat, Mike?" he suggests, gently tossing her panties on the floor.

I nod dumbly, my body moving on autopilot as I sink into a nearby chair, my eyes glued to the scene unfolding on the bed.

This is really happening.

And for some reason, I can't bring myself to look away.

But I should, shouldn't I?

His attention snaps back to my wife, a slow, knowing smile spreading across his face.

She smiles back, her cheeks glowing warmly with a warmth that fills the room.

I shift uncomfortably in my seat, my jeans suddenly feeling unbearably tight. My cock throbs, hard and aching, and I have to clench my thighs together to try and relieve the pressure.

This is insane.

I'm watching my wife get ready to fuck another man, and instead of wanting to stop it, a part of me -- a growing, insistent part -- just wants to...

watch

.

As if reading my mind, Emma's hand drifts down to her chest, her fingers lightly massaging the underside of her breasts. She spreads her leg apart slowly exposing the wetness between her folds to Marcus's hungy gaze.

He smiles and just savors the delicious sight and then begins to undress. He pulls his shirt over his head, tossing it carelessly to the side, revealing a chest and abdomen that are surprisingly sculpted for a man his age.

Then, he unzips his pants, pushing them down his legs with a swift, fluid movement. He isn't wearing any underwear.

My eyes are drawn instantly to his cock. It's even bigger than I remember -- thick and veined, the head already glistening with arousal.

The sight of it -- so large, so dark, so undeniably

male

-- sends a wave of that similar foreign feeling crashing through me. Again for god's sake, I can't describe it. I can't put it into words.

I glance at Emma, who's staring at it too, her eyes glazed, her lips parted in a silent gasp. One hand is now stroking her clit, her fingers moving rhythmically over her folds as she drinks in his impressive erection.

There's a flicker of fear in her eyes, a momentary hesitation, but it's quickly overshadowed by anticipation.

She is scared,

I can tell.

But she is also undeniably turned on.

Marcus moves closer, his dark body standing out against the white sheets, his cock swaying slightly with each step.

Emma's gaze never wavers, her breath catching in her throat as he reaches the edge of the bed and settles onto one knee, giving her an unobstructed view of his erection.

He reaches for her breasts, his hands large and dark against the pale skin of her chest. He massages them gently, his thumbs circling her nipples. Emma arches into his touch, a soft moan escaping her lips.

"Ohh...."

He tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, his touch surprisingly tender for a man about to...

My mind struggles to find the right word, the right way to process the scene unfolding before me.

Emma's lips part again, but no sound emerges. She's completely captivated, lost in the sensation of his hands on her body, in the sight of his cock, huge and pulsating, inches from her face.

I clench my fists, my own erection throbbing painfully against my fly. Seeing them like that -- her porcelain skin against his dark hands, the beautiful contrast of their different colored bodies --stirs up jolt of pure, primal lust through me, a charge so powerful it makes me dizzy.

I've never seen anything like it. Never felt anything like it.

It's exciting, terrifying, and deeply, undeniably arousing all at the same time.

Marcus's hand inches closer, his touch a feather-light whisper against her inner thigh. When his fingers brush against the dampness between her folds, Emma's eyes dart to mine, a flicker of uncertainty in their depths.

"Mike?" she whispers, her voice laced with a mixture of desire and something that sounds suspiciously like fear.

It's as if she's begging me to pull the emergency brake, to stop this runaway train before it hurtles off the tracks.

My heart pounds in my ribs, a frantic rhythm that echoes the throbbing in my groin. My mouth is dry, my throat tight. I know I should say something, do something, but the words catch in my throat, choked by the sheer intensity of the moment.

Marcus watches me intently, his gaze unwavering. When I don't speak, when I don't move, he takes it as tacit approval. A slow smile curves his mouth as he turns back to Emma, his hand closing over her sex.

"Jesus," Emma breathes, her back arching off the bed as his touch sends a jolt of pleasure through her.

He strokes her slowly, rhythmically, his fingers gliding through her slick folds. Her legs part further, opening for him, inviting him in. She's completely lost, in the feel of his touch but even in her haze of arousal, she's still looking at me for...

what

?

Permission? Reassurance? Absolution?

"Mike, this is..." Her words disintegrate into a soft moan as his fingers slide deeper.

I offer her a small, encouraging smile, and the uncertainty in her eyes melts away, replaced by a potent mix of desire and abandon.

She too must have thought my silence meant that I am okay. Or maybe, in the heat of the moment, she was too caught up, her body responding automatically.

It's like a switch has flipped inside her, a silent agreement made.

She's all in.

"That's it, dear," Marcus murmurs, his voice a husky growl.

He alternates between stroking her sensitive flesh, slipping a finger inside her, and circling her clit with a maddening precision that has her writhing beneath him.

"Ughhhh.....Ufff......."

She's panting, clutching the sheets as pleasure keeps hitting her in relentless waves.

Then, with a groan, Marcus pushes himself off the bed and drops to his knees near the edge of the bed. His hands cup her ass, lifting her slightly, and then he's burying his face between her legs, his tongue swirling her clit.

"Oh God... yes... Aghhhh..."

Emma cries out, a raw, guttural sound that's both shocking and incredibly arousing. Her hips buck against his face, her fingers tangling in his hair as his tongue works its magic.

The sound of her pleasure -- the gasps, the moans, the wet, sucking noises -- fills the room, drowning out any last vestiges of reason left in my brain.

Marcus doesn't stay between her legs for long. He rises, trailing kisses up her inner thighs, her stomach, her breasts. He pauses to suckle on her nipples, his hands roaming over her body, leaving a trail of goose-flesh in their wake.

Emma's fingers dig into his shoulders, her head thrown back, her entire body trembling with anticipation.

He reaches her neck, her ear, his tongue tracing a path along her sensitive skin. With one leg still between hers, he shifts slightly, and I see the way his cock brushes her inner thigh, leaving a glistening trail of pre-cum in its wake.

And the monster within me, the one I've tried so hard to deny, rears its ugly head, whispering promises of pleasure so dark, so forbidden, that it threatens to consume me whole.

Just as Emma's moans reach a fever pitch, Marcus pulls away, leaving her panting and quivering beneath him. He looks down at her, his eyes dark with lust, taking in the sight of her spread legs, her swollen lips, her chest heaving with each breath.

With a slow, calculated movement, he parts her legs further, his hands lingering on her thighs as he positions himself between them, his massive body a dark silhouette above the pale expanse of her skin.

Emma's gaze is glued to his erection, poised at her entrance. Her eyes are wide, filled with a mixture of desire and apprehension.

I can practically see the question forming in her mind -- the same question that's been echoing in my head since this whole insane encounter began.

But there's no more time for questions, no more room for doubt.

And then, with a suddenness that makes me flinch, he slaps his cock against her slick folds.

"Ohhh!" she cries out.

He repeats the motion, slapping his cock again and again, each impact sending ripples of sensation through the room.

He's teasing her,

I realize. The sight of my wife at the mercy of his touch, her body responding so readily to another man, sends a jolt of something dark and deeply unsettling through my gut.

But Emma's cries are growing louder now, her moans laced with a desperate urgency. She's ready for him, and Marcus, ever the attentive lover, doesn't keep her waiting any longer.

He lines himself up with her entrance, his cock poised, a dark arrow aimed at the heart of her desire. And then, with a slow, deliberate push, he begins to slide inside of her.

The world seems to shrink, to narrow, until all that exists is the sight of his dark shaft disappearing into her wet heat. My own breath catches in my throat, my heart pounding against my ribs as I watch, transfixed, as inch after inch of his thick cock disappears inside of her.

It doesn't fit. Not at first.

Emma's back arches off the bed, her head thrown back, her fingers digging into the sheets as she cries out, a raw, primal scream that seems to shake the very foundation of the room.

"OHHHHGAWWWWDDDDDDDDDD!!!"

Her body tenses, her spine arching off the mattress as Marcus fills her completely. Every muscle seems to lock up, her breath hitching as if the sheer intensity of the sensation threatens to overwhelm her.

"Ohhh.... Goooodddddd... Marcus..."

He simply holds himself there, buried deep inside her, his weight a comforting pressure against her body. I can see the muscles in his back flexing, the subtle tremble in his arms as he holds himself steady.

"Damnnn, you're so tight, Emma."

Her eyes are squeezed shut, a soft whimper escaping her throat as her body adjusts to the feel of him inside her, stretching her far beyond what she is used.

I watch, mesmerized and horrified, as she surrenders to the invasion, to the undeniable power of his presence.

And then, just when I think she might shatter from the sheer force of the sensation, he begins to move.

He withdraws slowly, pulling back inch by agonizing inch until only the very tip of his cock remains inside her. Emma whimpers, a low, pleading sound that echoes the desperate ache in my own groin.

"Don't...ugh..s-stop." Her voice is ragged, raw with need.

Marcus chuckles a low rumble. "Don't worry, sweetheart. We're just getting started."

And then, with a groan that seems to rise from deep within his chest, he slams back into her.

"AGGHHhhhhhh, yeessssss..." Emma cries out, her hips bucking up to meet his thrust.

Her head thrashes back against the pillow, her eyes flying open. A gasp escapes her lips, transforming quickly into a moan of pure, unadulterated pleasure. Her fingers dig into the sheets, her knuckles white, as wave after wave of sensation crashes over her, leaving her breathless.

"That's it," he groans, his voice thick with desire. "Take it. Take all of me."

His rhythm never falters, each thrust a testament to his strength, his control. With each powerful surge, a little more of his cock disappears inside Emma, filling her completely. Her legs rise, wrapping around his waist, her toes curling as she pulls him closer, urging him deeper, a silent, instinctual response to the pleasure he's giving her, the invasion she's surrendering to.

I watch, transfixed, as her body molds to his, their movements becoming a blur of intertwined limbs and tangled sheets.

"Ohhh... Marcus... God, yessss... " Emma gasps, her voice a throaty purr, a sound I've never heard from her before. "It's so... so

big

... so

full

..."

His cock glistens, slick with her wetness, as he picks up speed, his hips piston against hers with increasing urgency. The air fills with the sounds of their coupling -- the slap of skin on skin, the rustle of the sheets.

Emma's head thrashes back and forth against the pillow, her hair a tangled mess around her shoulders. Her moans get louder...

more desperate

, matching Marcus's powerful thrusts, his large balls slapping rhythmically against her ass.

"Yessss... right there... ohhhh, fuckkk...uffff"

He leans down, capturing her mouth in another scorching kiss, swallowing her moans, his body a dark shadow against her paler skin.

My gaze drops to the point where their bodies connect, to the stark contrast of his dark skin on the pale expanse of her inner thighs.

I see the way her pussy seems to swallow him whole, her flesh stretched taut around his thickness, the delicate pink of her inner lips peeking out with each thrust, glistening in the warm light of the bedside lamp.

It is a visual assault on my senses.

The sight -- so raw, so primal, so unbelievably erotic -- sends a jolt of pure lust through me. It's a physical sensation, a wave of heat that starts in my groin and spreads outward, consuming me. The last vestiges of my self-control shatter.

I can't hold back any longer.

With a groan I didn't know I was holding back, I yank down my pants and toss them aside, freeing my aching erection.

My gaze is glued to the spectacle unfolding on the bed, to the rhythm of their bodies, to the sounds of Emma's pleasure, and I hate myself for the dark thrill that courses through me, for the envy that twists in my gut.

I wrap my hand around my cock and start to stroke myself.

She's lost in it now

, completely at the mercy of her desire.

Marcus breaks the kiss. "Let go, sweetheart," he growls. "Come for me, Emma. Come on, baby..."

"I...I'm close..." Emma gasps, her body writhing beneath him. "It's... it's too much... Ah... Don't... Please, Marcus... don't stop..."

Her words are a jumbled mess, a desperate plea lost in a wave of building ecstasy.

"I'm not gonna stop," he groans, his hips grinding against hers. "Not until you come apart in my arms."

"Oh, Goddddd... I'm... I'm gonna..." Her voice breaks, replaced by a high-pitched whine that seems to claw its way out of her throat.

And then, it happens. She breaks.

"Oh, fuck... Oh, fuckkkkkk......Aaaaahhh! Yessss! Fuuuuuck!"

Her body erupts.

It's like watching a dam break, a sudden, violent release of pent-up energy. She lifts her back off the bed, pushing her hips up towards him, lost in the waves of pleasure washing over her. Her eyes roll back in her head, her jaw slackens, and a string of guttural sounds -- half-moan, half-scream -- tears from her throat. She claws at his back, his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin as if trying to anchor herself to something, anything, amidst the storm raging through her body.

I watch, enraptured and horrified, as my wife, the woman I vowed to love and cherish, comes apart beneath another man. The sight is both exhilarating and deeply, profoundly unsettling.

Her orgasm just keeps rolling through her, one after the other, echoing cries filling the room in a wild, raw symphony of release that seems to last forever.

And it's different.

I think back on all the times I've made her come, all the years of shared intimacy, the moans and gasps we've elicited from each other. But it's never been like this. This is something else entirely. A wildness, an abandon, a level of pure, unadulterated pleasure I never knew she was capable of experiencing, let alone expressing.

The echoes of her cries linger in the air long after her body stills, long after Marcus ceases his movements, his chest heaving, his gaze fixed on her with a mixture of satisfaction and something that looks a lot like awe.

Her eyes are closed, mouth hanging open, chest going up and down with each heavy breath.

"Well, sweetheart." he gently moves a loose strand of hair from her forehead. "Was it good?"

Emma's eyes flutter open, and a slow smile, languid spreads across her lips. "That was... oh my God," she breathes, her voice shaky with lingering pleasure. "I've never..."

She trails off, shaking her head as if words can't quite encompass the intensity of the experience.

He chuckles softly, "Want some more?"

Emma bites her lip, "Yes please," she whispers.

He doesn't need any further encouragement. With a groan, he eases back into her, his movements slow and controlled, giving her body time to adjust, to anticipate the pleasure to come.