My Wife Fucked Cedric at Dinner

The private dining room at the upscale restaurant was sealed off from the main floor, candlelight low over white linen and untouched plates. Anton, thirty-eight, a successful but sexually submissive accountant, sat with his hands clenched in his lap and his pulse in his throat. His wife Heather, thirty-two, looked stunning in a black dress that barely contained her breasts and ended high enough on her thighs to be an invitation. Beside her lounged Cedric, twenty-nine, Anton's arrogant former college rival, muscular under a shirt that cost more than Anton's watch, a wealthy entrepreneur who had always carried himself like the room belonged to him. They had been adults when the rivalry started on campus. They were adults now. And for months, in their apartment, Anton and Heather had openly discussed and fantasized about this exact night: Heather cuckolding him with the man who made him feel small.

Cedric's hand slid beneath the tablecloth and settled possessively on Heather's thigh, high enough that his fingers brushed the edge of her panties. She didn't move them. She smiled at her husband, glossy-lipped and eager, and let her knee fall open so Anton could see the shape of that hand under the linen.

"You've been staring at her mouth all night," Cedric said, amused and mean. "He notices. Look at him. Successful little accountant can't even lift his fork."

Anton swallowed. His cock thickened against his pants, helpless and hot. Heather's dress had ridden up. He could see the thin black strip of her panties and the slow stroke of Cedric's thumb on bare skin. The heavy flirtation had been building since they sat down, and now the tension was unbearable.

"We talked about you," Heather said, eyes on Anton. "For months. I told him I wanted a man who takes what he wants. He gets so hard when I say your name he can barely finish the sentence."

Cedric laughed, soft and arrogant. His hand crept higher, cupping her through the damp fabric. "Is that right? You sit there counting other people's money and jerk off thinking about me fucking your wife?"

Anton's face burned. He nodded, because it was true and because Heather wanted him honest. Cedric's fingers pressed, and Heather's breath hitched loud enough for her husband to hear. He watched, useless in his chair, while his stunning wife let his rival touch her at the dinner table and didn't once tell him to stop.

Heather turned toward Cedric, close enough that her heat reached Anton's side of the table. "I'm soaked," she said, clear and shameless. "Your hand on me, him sitting there trying not to whimper—I'm dripping through my panties. You can feel it."

Cedric's eyes flicked to Anton, cruel and pleased. "Hear that? Your wife just admitted how wet she's gotten from a little teasing. At dinner. In front of you."

"I heard," Anton managed. His voice cracked.

Heather didn't look away from her husband while her hand vanished under the tablecloth. Anton watched her fingers find the thick ridge in Cedric's pants and stroke it, slow and deliberate, base to tip. Cedric exhaled through his teeth. She kept staring at Anton the whole time, working another man's cock through fabric while her husband sat frozen and throbbing.

"Feel how hard he is," she whispered. "So much thicker than you, and I haven't even taken him out. You want to squirm while I play with the cock you've been jealous of since college, don't you?"

Anton squirmed. His own erection pressed painfully against his zipper, ignored and leaking. Cedric groaned when she squeezed him through his pants.

"Look at your face," she murmured, stroking harder, eyes locked on her husband. "Humiliated and hard. Stay like that. I want you desperate before he puts it in me. I want you to hear how badly I need a real cock tonight."

Cedric's hand found the back of her neck, guiding, and she leaned into it. "Eager," he said. "He's going to remember this every time he tries to fuck you with that pathetic little thing. Ask him. I want the accountant to say it."

Heather leaned toward Anton, dress gaping, nipples stiff against the thin fabric. "Do you want to watch me get fucked right here? Right at this table? I want his cock in me while you sit there and take it. Tell me yes."

"Yes," Anton groaned. The word tore out of him, eager and ashamed. "I want to watch. Please."

Cedric groaned too, hips shifting into her palm. "Then get under there. Show him what that mouth is for."

Heather smiled, wicked and sure, and slid off her chair. The tablecloth swallowed her. Anton heard the belt, the zipper, Cedric's sharp inhale. Then the wet, obscene sound of her mouth taking Cedric's thick cock, slow and greedy, under the dinner table while Anton sat above them and shook.

She came back up with swollen, shining lips. Cedric's cock stood thick and flushed in the open air, bigger than anything Anton had ever pushed into her. Heather reached under her hiked skirt and peeled her panties down. They came away black and ruined. Cedric tossed them into Anton's lap.

"Hold those," Cedric said. "Don't drop them. I want you clutching your wife's soaked panties while I fuck her on this chair."

Anton closed his fist around them. Warm. Slick. The smell of her pussy hit him and his cock jerked in his pants.

Heather turned her back to Cedric and faced her husband. She planted a hand on the dinner table, hiked the dress to her waist, and lowered herself onto Cedric's lap in the restaurant chair, reverse, ass to his stomach, eyes on Anton. The thick head notched against her bare pussy. Her swollen lips spread. She sank down with a moan that filled the private room.

"Oh fuck, he's huge," she gasped, loud, not caring about the door. "Anton, he's so much bigger than you. I can feel every inch stretching me. Your cock never opens me like this."

She sank until her ass met Cedric's thighs. He gripped her hips hard enough to mark and slammed upward. The chair creaked. Heather cried out, filthy and raw, breasts spilling from the neckline.

"Ride it," Cedric growled, muscular arms flexing as he held her. "Let your husband see what a real cock looks like in his wife." He thrust up hard, again, again, the wet slap of her pussy echoing off the walls. "Tell him. Don't whisper."

"Better," she moaned, bouncing, skirt bunched at her waist, eyes locked on Anton. "So much better than your pathetic little cock. He's splitting me open. I'm so full I can barely think. I'm dripping down his balls and he hasn't even come."

She didn't quiet down. She wanted her submissive husband to hear every word while his arrogant rival fucked her at the dinner table. "Your little cock slides in and I barely notice," she panted, grinding the thick length deep. "This one owns me."

Cedric yanked her down hard. "Clench. Show him how greedy this married pussy gets when it's properly fucked." Heather clenched. Anton heard the rough grunt. "Now say whose cock you want."

"Cedric's," she moaned, eager and wrecked. "I want to be fucked like this while you hold my panties and admit you're not enough."

"Panties," Cedric snapped, slamming up so hard she yelped. "Describe them. Tell me how wet she is for a real man."

Anton stared at the ruined fabric in his shaking hands. "They're soaked. She's drenched for you. For a real man. Not for me. She never gets this wet for my cock."

Cedric laughed and drove up harder, degrading and relentless. Heather leaned forward, grabbed Anton's chin, and forced his eyes up to hers while Cedric pounded her from below, hips cracking against her ass.

"Look at me," she ordered. "Don't look away. Thank him. Thank Cedric for stretching your wife's married pussy. Say it while he fucks me."

"Thank you," Anton choked, humiliated and throbbing, panties tight in his fist. "Thank you for stretching her. Thank you for fucking my wife. I can't do what you're doing. I'm not enough."

"Louder," she hissed, grinding down, her pussy making filthy wet sounds around every thick inch.

"Thank you, Cedric," Anton said, voice shaking with how badly he meant it. "Thank you for stretching her married pussy. Thank you for being bigger. Thank you for using her while I watch."

Her rhythm broke. Her thighs shook. Cedric slammed up and held her down on his cock, grinding deep, and she came with a raw shout, eyes wide and locked on her husband's face. Her pussy clenched and then gushed, a hot rush of squirt spilling down Cedric's shaft, over his balls, onto the restaurant chair, splattering the floor between Anton's shoes. She sobbed through it, still stuffed full, still staring at him.

"Fuck, she's squirting on me," Cedric groaned, hips jerking, not stopping. "Your wife just came all over a real cock. This is what she needed. Not you."

Heather kept riding through the aftershocks, slick and loud, moaning that she loved being stretched open on his cock.

Cedric growled her name, slammed up one last time, and buried himself to the hilt. Anton watched his cock pulse inside her as Cedric filled her with a massive creampie, so much it leaked around the shaft still stuffed in her. Heather leaned in and kissed her husband, messy and deep, while another man's cum flooded her pussy.

She lifted off. A rush of cum spilled down her thighs onto the chair. She looked at Anton, flushed and glowing.

"Kneel."

He dropped in front of Cedric, between her spread thighs. She pulled his mouth to her dripping pussy. "Clean me. Every drop. Let him watch."

Anton licked, eager and ashamed, tasting Cedric's cum and her squirt, and he didn't stop. Cedric sat back, cock still out, smug.

"Best orgasm of my life," Heather said. "Thank you. Both of you."

"Only the beginning," Cedric said. "Eager little cuckold. Humiliated. Grateful. That's his role now."

Anton moaned into her and kept licking.