Neighbor Borrows My Wife for His Work Party

The yes had already left my mouth. I am Gideon, thirty-two, and I had agreed to lend my wife to the man next door.

Annika stood in our living room in the dress she had chosen for a party that was not mine. She is twenty-nine. Black fabric held her breasts, followed her waist, and stopped high on her thighs. Her heels clicked when she shifted. Her hair was pinned up, her throat bare, a thin gold chain against her skin. She looked elegant, and she looked like a woman who had decided to be borrowed.

Sergio knocked. I let him in. Our neighbor is thirty-eight, single, wide through the shoulders. Two nights ago he had stood on our porch and asked plainly. His company was hosting a work party, and people had begun to notice he never brought anyone. He wanted Annika on his arm as his girlfriend, with my agreement under it. She would smile when they asked. She would let his hand rest at her back. Then they would come home to his house, and I would watch.

We had all three said yes in this room, sober, lights on, no one talking anyone into anything.

"Curtains stay open," I said. "I watch from our window. You don't close me out."

"Open," Sergio said. He looked at her, then at me. "She comes back with me. You see what we do."

Annika set her palm on my chest and kissed me slow. She had turned down wine earlier. She wanted a clear head. "I want you hard while you watch," she said. "I want you to see him have me."

My cock thickened in my pants. I did not hide it. Sergio's eyes dropped, and the corner of his mouth moved, not mean, just sure.

They left. From the glass I watched him open the car door. Her dress rode as she sat. His hand found her bare knee and stayed, and she laid her fingers over his. The taillights slid down the street. The house went quiet except for the clock and my breath.

Across the yard his living room was already lit, curtains pulled wide. I could see the gray couch, the low table, the pale rug, the doorway toward his bedroom. I pulled a chair to our window and sat in the dark, knees apart, my hand on my thigh near my cock and not yet on it.

He would borrow the shape of a girlfriend for a few hours, her laugh at his shoulder, his palm low on her back. When they came back through that lit room, the borrowing would become the thing I had agreed to see. I watched the empty couch and felt my pulse in my cock.

Headlights washed the street a little after eleven. I had not moved. My cock had stayed half-hard the whole time, an ache I refused to spend. Annika's laugh came across the yard, bright and real, then Sergio's lower voice. They did not hurry. His hand was at the small of her back, and her body leaned into it.

They stepped into the light I had been staring at. She was still in the black dress, flushed, a strand of hair loose at her temple. He shut the door with his heel and did not touch the curtains. She turned her face toward our window, found the dark where I sat, and her mouth curved.

"He can see," she said. Not a warning. A thrill.

"Good," Sergio said.

He stood close and let his knuckles drift down her bare arm, shoulder to wrist. She shivered. Her eyes stayed on his mouth. He brushed hair behind her ear, and his thumb stayed at her jaw. She tipped her face into his palm. The flirtation was not for colleagues anymore. It was for the three of us, and two of them were in the light.

"They believed you," he said. "You laughed in the right places. You let me keep my hand on you."

"I liked your hand on me," she said, voice lower. "I kept thinking about this room. About him in the dark."

His hand settled on her waist. He drew her in until her dress met his shirt. She went. Her palms slid up his chest, and she pressed her body to his like she had waited all night to do it. Her hips rolled once, testing. He made a sound and bent his head.

The kiss started careful and did not stay that way. His mouth opened over hers. She rose onto her toes and kissed him back, hungry, one hand fisted in his collar. I saw the wet gleam when they broke and went back in. His hand dropped to her ass and pulled her against the ridge in his pants. She moaned into his mouth, loud enough that I heard it through the glass, and ground against him.

My cock was fully hard. I opened my pants and took it in my fist, holding, not stroking yet.

Sergio found the zipper and drew it down. The dress loosened. She shrugged, and he helped it off her shoulders, over her hips, until it pooled at her heels. Under it she wore black panties and nothing else. Her breasts were bare, nipples tight, and she did not cover them. She looked toward the window, chest rising, and let us both have her.

"Off," she said, tugging his belt. "I want you."

He shed the jacket. She worked his shirt open, then the undershirt, palms greedy on his stomach. He kicked his shoes away. She pushed his pants and boxers down, and his cock sprang up, thick, flushed, wet at the tip. She wrapped her hand around it and stroked once, slow, then glanced at the window to make sure I had the angle.

"He's watching your hand," Sergio said.

"I know." She pressed her naked body to his, breasts against his chest, fist still around his cock. She kissed his throat and rolled her hips so the head of him slid over her panties. "I want him to see how wet I am for you."

He hooked his thumbs in the panties and drew them down. She stepped out. Her pussy was swollen and glistening, and when she pressed against him again there was nothing between her skin and his. His hands spanned her ass. Her knee lifted along his hip. They kissed harder, open and messy, his cock trapped against her belly and the heat of her cunt.

I stroked myself once and stopped. I was not going to come yet. Across the glass they were done pretending. She was eager in his hands, and he was hard for my wife, and both of them kept finding the window like the watching was part of the heat.

He turned her toward the gray couch. She bent before he finished guiding her, palms on the back cushion, ass lifted, heels planted. We had talked about this, all three of us, clear-headed, and she had said she wanted it if the night went there. It had gone there. Her back arched. The wet shine of her pussy caught the lamp, and I saw his cock jump.

"Look at her," he said, and I knew he meant me. "She walked into that party on my arm, and now she's bent over my couch, dripping."

"Yes," Annika said. She pushed her ass back. "Stop talking and fuck me. He can see. I want him to see you go in."

Sergio lined himself up. One hand on her hip, the other guiding his cock. He rubbed the head through her slit, up over her clit, back down, coating himself. She whimpered and rocked. Then he pushed. The head spread her, and I watched her cunt take him, inch by inch, until his hips met her ass and he was buried. Her mouth opened. A long moan came out of her, raw, and her fingers dug into the couch.

He pulled back slow, almost out, the shaft shiny with her, and drove in again. Long. Deep. The sound was wet and thick. He set a pace that was hard without being hurried, each stroke a full withdrawal and a full return, his balls tapping her, his hands locked on her hips. She shoved back to meet him. The couch shifted on the rug. Her breasts swung. Her moans broke apart on the impacts.

"Harder," she said. "Sergio, harder. Let him hear it."

He gave it to her. His hips snapped. The slap of skin carried across the yard. I stroked my cock in time with him, fist tight, eyes fixed on the place where he disappeared into my wife. She pushed back like she wanted to be split, hair falling out of its pins, mouth open, saying his name and then mine.

"Gideon," she called, voice wrecked. "I know you're there. Watch him fuck me."

I was watching. Precum slicked my fingers. I did not come.

He fucked her until her legs shook and her moans climbed into something helpless. He reached under her and rubbed her clit while he stayed deep, grinding, and she came with a sharp cry, cunt clenching, pushing back in little jolts. He held still through it, buried, breathing hard against her shoulder, and did not finish. When she sagged he kissed her spine and pulled out slow. His cock stood up wet and not done.

"Bedroom," he said. "I want you on me. I want him to see your face while you ride."

She nodded, breathless, and let him lead her through the doorway. I shifted in my chair to keep the angle. His bedroom light was on. The bed faced the side window, and that curtain was open too. I could see the white sheets, the headboard, both of them in full.

Annika pushed him onto his back. She climbed over him, kicked the heels off, and straddled his hips. One hand on his chest, the other holding his cock upright. She sank onto him in one slow drop, taking him to the root, and her head fell back. A moan rolled out of her. She looked toward my window, eyes half-closed, and smiled like she could feel me looking.

"There," she said. "See me."

She rode him. She ground down in circles, then lifted and dropped, the wet sound of her cunt on his cock filling the quiet. Sergio's hands gripped her hips, fingers digging in, pulling her down harder each time she rose. His jaw was tight. His eyes moved from her breasts to her face to the window.

"Use me," he said. "Take it. Show him how you look when you're full of me."

"I am full of you," she gasped. She planted her hands on his chest and fucked herself on him, ass flexing, thighs working, slick shine spreading over his cock and her inner thighs. She leaned down and kissed him, still rolling her hips, then sat up and rode harder. Her clit dragged against him on every grind. She came again like that, shaking, crying out, nails leaving marks on his chest, and he held her hips and kept her moving, cock throbbing inside her, still not letting go.

"Not yet," he said, rough. "On your back. I want to put it deep when I come."

She nodded, wrecked and eager, and he flipped her onto the sheets. Her hair spread. Her knees fell open. He settled between her thighs and pushed back in with one long stroke. She arched. Her arms went around his shoulders. Her bare heels hooked behind his thighs and pulled him deeper.

He fucked her there with nothing held back. Long strokes first, then harder, faster, their bodies slapping together, the bed knocking the wall in a beat I could almost feel through my own floor. Her breasts bounced. His stomach met hers. She moaned into his mouth and then against his ear, loud, telling him not to stop, telling him I was watching her get fucked, telling him she wanted every inch. He gave it. His hips pistoned. The wet smack of his cock in her cunt was constant. Sweat shone on both of them. Her nails raked his back. She came again, a rolling clench that made her sob his name and lock her legs and pull him in to the hilt.

"Inside," she begged. "Come inside me. I want him to see you fill me. I want your cum."

Sergio groaned. His thrusts went short and deep, grinding, and then he buried himself and held. I saw his ass flex, his whole body lock. He was coming. He pulsed in her, again and again, pumping her full. Annika's mouth opened on a broken sound. She held him there, heels tight, taking every spurt, her eyes finding the window even as she shook.

"Yes," she said, voice torn. "I feel it. Stay in me. Let him see you creampie me."

He stayed buried. Cum leaked at the seal of their bodies, a white trickle onto his sheets, and he did not pull out. He kept his cock stuffed in her, twitching, giving her the last of it. I stroked myself through the sight of my wife creampied and still holding him, and I came hard into my fist, gasping, eyes never leaving them.

He did not roll off. He stayed inside her, chest to chest, both of them breathing hard. His hand slid down between their bodies and settled on the soft lower curve of her belly, palm wide, just above where his cock was still buried in her cunt. He rubbed a slow circle there. Annika's breath caught. She looked at his hand, then past his shoulder, straight at the dark of our window, at me.

His cock twitched inside her. My own, spent in my fist, thickened again at the sight of that hand on her belly. She was flushed, sweaty, full of his cum, and the promise had not even been spoken yet. All three of us were already hot with it.

"Annika," Sergio said, voice low and wrecked and sure. "Carry my child. I don't want a girlfriend for one party. I want to put a baby in you and show you off pregnant. At the next one. At all of them. Round with me, where everyone can see what I did to you."

She moaned, soft, and her hips rolled up like the words had gone straight into her. Her hand covered his on her belly. She did not look away from me. Her lips parted. She was breathless, ruined, smiling, and when she answered him she answered him while she held my eyes through the glass. Sergio's cock pulsed where he was still buried, and my hand tightened on myself in the dark, both of us hard again for the same promise.

"Yes. Put your baby in me and show me off pregnant while he watches."