Do you remember . . .while he and I fucked?

Do you remember how it felt knowing that you were taking me to him, taking me to the man who I was going to fuck in ways that we didn't, of how it came about from that conversation we'd had sometime before when you told me you wanted to watch me being fucked by another man?

Do you remember how hard your cock was when I told you what I was going to do with him, of what he was going to do with me and that you would be sat outside waiting all the time I was there?

Do you remember how I told you how much I wanted him, how I was going to suck his cock and then how good it would feel when I allowed him to fuck me, feeling him release his cum deep into my cunt.

I do.

Do you remember the journey to his house, the silence in the car, the bubbling intensity of arousal and anticipation building with every passing mile?

Do you remember pulling up and stopping at his house, knowing that in just a short amount of time, I would be in there fucking another man, being fucked by another man that you had driven me to?

Do you remember that moment as I turned around and kissed you hard on the mouth, reaching down and feeling the hardness of your cock before stepping out of the car and walking towards his front door asking you if you were still sure? 

I do.

Do you remember how much you longed to touch yourself while you waited, the ever increasing hardness of your cock straining against your jeans, but the openness of the street preventing you from doing so?

Do you remember how it felt the moment he kissed my neck and his hands reaching into the front of my blouse pinching and twisting my nipples, all the while that my eyes were gazing out of the window at you?

Do you remember the way you looked up to the window and how it felt as you watched us together, my kissing him, taking his cock out of his jeans and boxers and disappearing down out of sight as I knelt before him and took him deep into my throat?

Do you remember that moment as he and I left you sat there, turning away from the window, leaving you to your imagination, to your thoughts, to your visions, to your fantasies as I sucked him . . .as he fucked me?

I do.

Do you remember the smile on my face as the front door opened, as I turned around and kissed him on the mouth before leaving him, just as I had done with you a short time earlier?

Do you remember how your still hard and straining cock felt when I played with you through your trousers, kissing you hard in the mouth as I reached behind for my seatbelt?

Do you remember how you pleaded with me afterwards to know how it had felt to be fucked by another while you were sat outside, of how you wanted to know all of the details of the moments I had just shared with another?

I do.

Do you remember when I told you how it had felt to have his cock deep in my throat, while he had his tongue deep in my cunt and the deepest of groans that had come from your mouth?

Do you remember how I made you stop on the way home so you could bring me to another orgasm, your fingers finding my cunt already wet?

Do you remember how you wanted to fuck me too, for another mans cum to be over your cock, for your own cum to be mixed with his and my own juices?

I do.

Do you remember how it felt to fuck me so soon after another man had done so, of how wet I was, of how aroused you were, of how I whispered into your ear all the things that he had done to me, of all the things that I wanted you to do to me?

Do you remember how I made you lie on the bed and placed my glistening cunt above your mouth, expelling another mans cum mixed with yours, mixed with mine into your mouth? 

Do you remember how I promised you that there would be a next time and that next time you could be there and that you could watch?

Do you remember?

I do.






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