Wife Used by Boss and Shared

The driveway lights came on before the car stopped. Yolanda sat with her hands folded over the hem of a short black dress she had bought for no other reason than the way it climbed her thighs when she walked, and she watched Nathaniel's house gather itself out of the dark: glass, pale stone, a wide porch already lit. She was twenty-eight. Her husband Anton, thirty, killed the engine and left his palm on her knee.

"Still want this," he said. Not a question.

"I've wanted it since the first time he looked at me across the conference table," she said. "You know that. I told you every filthy thing I think about when he talks to me at the office. I told you I wanted him to use me. I told you I wanted his friends to have me too." She turned her face toward him. "And you got hard while I said it. So yes. I still want it."

Anton's mouth found hers, brief and warm. "Then we go in."

Nathaniel opened the door himself. Fifty-two, broad through the chest, silver at the temples, the same low voice that had spent months turning ordinary office talk into something Yolanda replayed in the shower. Behind him the living room opened onto a wall of windows and a sectional big enough to sleep on. Henrik rose from one end of it, forty-eight, thick-armed, smiling like a man who had already been told what the weekend was for. Selena stayed seated a moment longer, fifty, dark hair pinned up, a silk blouse open at the throat, watching Yolanda the way a woman watches something she intends to touch.

"You made it," Nathaniel said. He took Yolanda's coat. His fingers brushed the bare line of her shoulder and stayed there half a second too long. "Anton. Good. Drinks are poured. Nobody needs to pretend we don't know why you're here."

They did not pretend. Glasses of wine sat on the low table, barely touched. Yolanda took one sip because her mouth was dry and set it down. She was clear-headed. She wanted to be. She wanted to feel every hand.

Nathaniel stood with one shoulder against the mantel and looked at her the way he looked at her when the rest of the floor had gone home. "She told me, Anton. Months of it. The little comments. The way she crosses her legs when I lean over her desk. I asked her, plainly, if she wanted to be fucked by me and passed to the people I trust. She said she had already told her husband. She said you were both hoping I'd make the invitation."

"We were," Anton said. His voice had gone rough. "She comes home wet from thinking about you. I want to watch it happen. I want to be in it."

Henrik set his glass aside. "And Selena and I were told the terms before we said yes. She wants to be used. She wants all of us. No surprises. If she says stop, we stop."

"I won't say stop," Yolanda said. Heat had already climbed her neck. "I've thought about your hands on me, Nathaniel. I've thought about being put on my knees in front of your friends. I want you to take what I've been offering you at work and stop being polite about it."

Selena's smile was slow. "Then stop being polite, darling. Tell them where you want to be touched first."

Yolanda's breath left her. "Everywhere. Start wherever you want. I came here to be shared."

Nathaniel crossed the room. He didn't ask again. He cupped the back of her neck and kissed her the way she had imagined in the parking garage, deep, unhurried, his tongue opening her mouth while his other hand slid under the dress and found the bare curve of her ass. She had left her panties in the suitcase on purpose. He made a low sound when he realized it and squeezed, pulling her against the hard line of his cock through his pants.

Henrik and Selena watched. Anton watched. Nobody looked away.

Nathaniel broke the kiss only to drag the dress up. The fabric bunched at her waist. Her breasts spilled into his palms, nipples already tight, and he rolled them between his fingers until she gasped against his mouth. Henrik shifted on the couch, one hand resting openly on his own thigh. Selena's eyes moved over Yolanda's body with open hunger.

"Look at her," Nathaniel said. "Office dresses. Polite little emails. And under it she's been walking around bare for me." He turned her so the others could see the flush on her chest, the wet shine already gathering between her thighs. His hand stayed on her ass, spreading her just enough that cool air touched her. "Tell them."

"Use me," Yolanda said. The words came out breathless and sure. "Right here. On the couch. I don't want to wait. I don't want a bedroom and a closed door. I want all of you to put your hands on me and fuck me until I can't remember my own name."

Anton stood. His cock was already straining his pants. "Then get on it."

Nathaniel stripped the dress off her in one motion and tossed it aside. She was naked in the lamplight, twenty-eight and shaking with want, not fear. Henrik's hands were on her next, big and warm, guiding her down onto the sectional. Selena knelt at the edge of the cushions and ran a palm up the inside of Yolanda's thigh, not rushing, just learning the heat of her.

"Beautiful," Selena murmured. "And soaked. She's been ready since the driveway."

Henrik opened his pants. His cock was thick, flushed, already wet at the tip. He settled between Yolanda's spread knees and rubbed the head along her slit, coating himself, watching her face. "You want this in your pussy."

"Yes. Please. Don't tease me."

Nathaniel had his cock out by then, heavy in his fist, and he climbed onto the cushions beside her head. "Open."

She opened. He fed himself into her mouth slowly, the salt of him spreading over her tongue, and she moaned around him as Henrik pushed into her cunt in one long, steady thrust. The stretch made her eyes water. Henrik held her hips and started to fuck her in a deep missionary rhythm, each stroke knocking a helpless sound up into Nathaniel's cock. She sucked what she could reach, drool slicking her chin, one hand braced on Nathaniel's thigh.

"That's it," Nathaniel said, voice gone dark and pleased. "Take it. You've been thinking about choking on me at your desk. Do it properly."

She did. She hollowed her cheeks and let him use her throat in short, careful pushes while Henrik pounded her, the wet slap of it loud in the room. Anton stood at the arm of the couch with his cock in his hand, stroking slowly, eyes fixed on the place where Henrik disappeared into his wife. Selena had moved behind Yolanda's shoulder, one hand cupping a bouncing breast, thumb flicking the nipple in time with Henrik's thrusts.

"God, she's gripping me," Henrik groaned. "Tight little wife. You feel how badly she needed this?"

"I can hear it," Anton said. "Don't stop."

They didn't. Henrik fucked her until her thighs trembled and she came with Nathaniel's cock buried in her mouth, a sharp, shaking orgasm that made her clench and cry out around him. Nathaniel pulled free so she could breathe, strings of spit connecting her lips to the swollen head, and he laughed once, low.

"Rotate," he said. "I want to watch her work."

Henrik dropped onto his back on the sectional, cock shining with her. Yolanda swung a leg over him and sank down reverse, facing his feet, her ass toward his chest, and the new angle drove him deep enough that she had to brace her hands on his knees. She rolled her hips, finding a rhythm, breasts swaying. Anton stepped in front of her. She reached for him without being told and took him into her mouth, sucking her husband while she rode another man's cock, the taste of herself still faint on her tongue from Henrik's skin where she'd gripped him.

Selena moved in behind her. "Hold still a second, sweetheart." Cool fingers, slick with something from a bottle on the side table, circled Yolanda's ass. Selena pressed one finger in, slow, then a second, working her open while Yolanda moaned around Anton's cock. "There. She's taking it. Look at that pretty hole learning how to relax."

"More," Yolanda gasped, pulling off Anton just long enough to say it. "Finger me. I want to feel full before they put a cock in it."

Selena gave her a third finger and fucked her ass with them in a steady twist while Henrik thrust up into her pussy and Anton fed his cock back between her lips. The room smelled like sex and clean skin and the wine nobody was drinking. Yolanda's mind went bright and empty. This was the thing she had confessed to Anton in their bed, word for word: Nathaniel's friends, his hands, her body passed around until she was used in every hole. It was happening, and she was begging for the next part with every roll of her hips.

Nathaniel stroked himself and watched Selena's fingers disappear. "Enough warmup. I want that ass."

They rearranged her without hurry and without doubt. Yolanda ended up on her side on the wide cushions, one knee drawn up. Nathaniel slicked his cock and pressed the head to her ass, waiting until she pushed back. He sank in inch by inch, a thick, burning fullness that made her clutch the upholstery and swear. Henrik lifted her top leg and slid back into her pussy, and the two of them held there a moment, stuffed against each other inside her, before they started to move.

"Oh fuck," she said, voice breaking. "Both. Don't pull out. Fuck me like that."

They did. Nathaniel's hips met her ass in deep, grinding strokes. Henrik matched him, cock dragging along the thin wall between her holes, and the pressure wound her up so fast she couldn't keep quiet. Anton knelt at her head and slid into her open mouth, one hand in her hair, fucking her throat in the same rhythm the other two used on her body. Spit-roast and double penetration at once, three cocks, her husband and her boss and her boss's friend, all of them groaning, all of them watching her take it.

Selena stayed close, palm on Yolanda's waist, murmuring filth in a calm voice. "Look at you. Stuffed in every hole and still pushing back for more. That's what you came here for. Let them use you."

"I'm coming," Yolanda tried to say, and it came out muffled around Anton. The orgasm hit harder than the first, a full-body clench that dragged sounds out of both men inside her. Henrik cursed and buried himself, pulsing, and she felt the hot rush of his cum flood her pussy. He stayed in her through it, grinding, then eased out so Nathaniel could keep fucking her ass while the creampie leaked down onto the cushion.

"My turn in her cunt," Nathaniel said. He pulled from her ass, slick and shining, and Henrik held her open while Nathaniel pushed into the messy heat Henrik had just filled. The squelch of it made Anton groan. Nathaniel fucked her pussy hard, chasing his own edge, and came with a rough shout, adding his load to Henrik's, pumping until she was dripping down her ass and onto the leather.

Anton hadn't finished. Yolanda turned her face toward him, mouth open, eyes wet and eager. "Give it to me. I want to swallow you."

He stroked twice and pushed back into her throat, and she took him as deep as she could, sucking hard, one hand working what wouldn't fit. He came with her name in his mouth, thick pulses she swallowed in greedy gulps, a little spilling at the corner of her lips. She licked him clean and smiled up at him, wrecked and shining.

They were not done. Henrik recovered first, still hard from watching, and rolled her onto her stomach. He fucked her ass this time, slow and deep, while Nathaniel knelt in front of her and let her lick her own taste off his cock until he thickened again. Anton slid a hand under her and rubbed her clit, and she came a third time with Henrik buried in her ass, shaking, pushing back onto him until he groaned and filled that hole too. Cum leaked from her when he withdrew. Nathaniel took her pussy again from behind, shorter strokes, and finished with another hot pulse inside her while she sucked Anton back to the edge and let him paint her tongue a second time. She swallowed that too, then opened her mouth to show them, filthy and proud.

Henrik wanted her mouth before his cock softened. She knelt on the rug between the couches and let him fuck her face until he came across her tongue, and she swallowed him down, licking the head for the last of it. Nathaniel, spent and flushed, still managed a final weak spurt when she stroked him and sucked the tip, and she took that as well, humming, not wasting any of it. Every hole had been used. Every man had finished in her, more than once, pussy and ass and mouth, creampies cooling on her thighs, the taste of all three of them thick on her tongue.

Selena kissed her shoulder, gentle after all that roughness. "You did exactly what you said you wanted."

"I did," Yolanda said. Her voice was hoarse and happy.

They gathered her back onto the sectional. She was dripping, cum from Nathaniel and Henrik slicking her thighs and the cleft of her ass, a sheen of it on her lips and chin from the men she had swallowed. She curled between Nathaniel and Henrik, warm and loose-limbed, and her hands found their spent cocks, stroking them lazily, not to start again, just because she liked the weight of them in her palms. Anton leaned in and kissed her, slow, unbothered by the mess, tasting his own cum and theirs on her mouth. She kissed him back and felt Nathaniel's hand settle on her hip, Henrik's thigh solid under her calf.

"This isn't the only weekend," Nathaniel said. "You both know that."

"Next month," Henrik said. "Same house. Same rules. She asks, we give it to her."

"And I will ask," Yolanda said. She looked at Anton, at the dazed devotion on his face, and smiled. "We'll come back. All of us. As many times as they'll have me."

Selena laughed softly. "They'll have you whenever you crook a finger. You just proved it."

They lay there in the lamplight, agreeing in low voices to dates, to the guest room, to the understanding that Yolanda would keep walking into Nathaniel's office on Monday and neither of them would pretend the weekend hadn't happened. Anton kissed her again, cum-smeared and sweet, and she stroked the softening cocks in her hands and thought she had never been more certain of a plan.

She had not been lent out at all; lying used and smiling between them, she understood she was the one who would be calling them back.