Midnight Pool: Sharing My Wife's Stocking Cock With Our Best Friend

The underwater lights turned the private backyard pool into a glowing turquoise bowl against the black of midnight. Mark floated on his back near the deep end, watching steam rise off the surface into the warm California night. His best friend Chris treaded water a few feet away, but neither man’s eyes stayed on the stars or the privacy fence. They kept drifting back to Lena.

She stood on the submerged steps in the shallow end, water lapping at the tops of her thighs. Sheer black stockings clung to her long, smooth legs like a second skin, darkened and glossy where the pool water soaked them. A matching garter belt framed the hard V of her hips; the straps dug lightly into the pale flesh of her upper thighs. Black stilettos with thin straps around her ankles kept her elevated even in the water, heels clicking softly whenever she shifted on the tiled step. She wore nothing else. Her full breasts, nipples tight from the night air and the cool water, rose and fell with each slow breath. Between her legs her cock hung heavy and half-hard already, the shaft pink and thick, the head just beginning to push free of its foreskin. The wet silk of her stockings framed it perfectly.

Chris didn’t bother hiding the way he stared. His mouth was slightly open. Mark felt his own cock thicken under the water just from watching his friend watch his wife.

Lena caught Chris looking and smiled, slow and wicked. She slid one hand down her stomach, fingers tracing the wet garter straps, then cupped her cock through the clinging fabric of nothing at all—just skin and the frame of silk. She stroked herself openly, thumb circling the head until a clear bead of precum welled up and smeared under her fingertip. The stockings whispered when her thighs pressed together.

“Like what you see, Chris?” Her voice carried easily across the quiet water. “You’ve been staring at my legs all night. Or is it this?” She gave her cock a slow, deliberate pump, the wet sound filthy in the stillness.

Chris swallowed hard. “Fuck, Lena… you know I do. Those stockings. The way they stick to you when they’re wet. And that cock. Christ.”

Mark swam closer, water sluicing off his shoulders. He came up behind Lena, pressed a kiss to the wet curve of her neck, and reached around to cover her hand with his own. Together they stroked her thickening shaft. Mark’s cock rubbed against the small of her back under the water.

“She’s been teasing you on purpose,” Mark said, voice rough. “Wore the stockings just for the pool. Knew you’d lose your mind.”

Lena leaned back into her husband, hips rolling so her cock slid through their joined fists. The garters stretched tight. Water dripped from her hair down between her breasts. “I love how hungry you look, Chris. Mark and I talk about it sometimes. How you can’t keep your eyes off me when I dress like this.”

Chris moved closer until he stood on the step below her, chest deep. Up close the scent of chlorine mixed with Lena’s skin and the faint musk of her arousal. His eyes flicked from her glossy stocking-clad thighs to the stiffening cock she and Mark were lazily jacking.

“I can’t help it,” Chris admitted. “Every time she wears those things I get hard. And knowing what’s between her legs… fuck. I jerk off thinking about it more than I should.”

Mark’s free hand slid down to cup Lena’s balls, rolling them gently while she stroked the shaft. He looked at his friend over her shoulder. “I know. I’ve seen the way you look. And I’ve always… Christ, I’ve always wanted to share this with you. Watch you touch her. Taste her. Feel how good her stocking cock feels in your mouth and your ass.”