She lives with two men, but that’s not enough to keep her satisfied

My lifestyle is not what most people would consider conventional. For some time now I have been living with two men, both of whom I love dearly.

I married Bud when I was just 18, but I soon realized that I was unable to keep my panties on whenever an appealing man put the make on me. My husband was no dummy; he confronted me after the first time I cheated on him. But for some reason he was turned on rather than angered by my infidelity, and he gave me his blessing to continue screwing my lover, as well as to take on others if I wanted to.

Earl was one of Bud’s oldest friends, and had been happily married until his wife’s untimely death. He had been mourning her for over a year when he came to stay with us one summer. I had the idea that I would like to reintroduce Earl to the joys of sex, which I was sure would cheer him up considerably. Bud had no objection to this, and when Earl arrived I made sure to dress in short shorts and brief halter tops in order to catch his attention.

On the third night of Earl’s visit Bud went to bed early, leaving Earl and me watching a movie together. Twenty minutes later Earl was resting in the soft cradle of my thighs, with his sizable cock sunk balls deep inside my slippery cunt. He was understandably horny after not having any pussy for more than a year, and for about 60 seconds he went after me like a runaway train. His hips were moving in every direction at once, and when his orgasm burst it was like a tanker car had dumped its cargo, soaking my pussy, my thighs and the couch cushion beneath us.

After that we moved to the guest room, where we made love three more times. I use the term “made love” because the fact is that there was an emotional as well as a physical connection between us, the kind of connection I’d felt the first time I had sex with Bud.

I finally went to join my sleeping husband in our bedroom. I crawled into bed with him without bothering to clean up, just as I’d come from his best friend’s bed. I kissed him to wake him up, planning to tell him what had just happened; but before I had a chance he smiled at me and said, “Was it good between you and Earl?”

“Yes it was,” I said as he reached to cup my come-drenched crotch, and I knew everything would be fine when he mounted me eagerly, making love to me more passionately than he had in years.

The next day the three of us sat down to talk things out, and we reached an agreement. We decided we would all live together, with Earl becoming my unofficial second husband. And it worked out fine. My two guys catered to my needs, both in and out of bed, and we had more fun together than I could have believed possible.

For the first time in my life I set my promiscuous ways on the back burner, and enjoyed being in a faithful three-way relationship with the two men I loved. But, as the old saying goes, the leopard can’t really change his spots.

Three years later, while on a business trip to Chicago, I was sitting alone in the restaurant at my hotel, perusing the dinner menu, when I heard a deep masculine voice asking if I would possibly consider sharing my table, since most of the other seats in the place were occupied. I looked up to see a tall good-looking black man, just the kind of guy I’d never been able to resist—I’ve always had a particular weakness for black men. However, sex was actually the furthest thing from my mind at that point, as both my men at home had given me double injections of semen just prior to my departure that morning, and my panties were damp from the residue of their creamy secretions still oozing from my snatch.

The man introduced himself as Tim, saying that he was from Los Angeles and was in Chicago for three days on business. I replied that I too was on a business trip, but avoided telling him where I was from. We chatted amiably over our meal, and afterwards he offered to pay for mine, but I politely refused.

As I waited for my credit card to be returned, Tim asked me to stay and have a glass of wine as a nightcap before I went to my room. I couldn’t see any harm in that, so I agreed. When we finished our wine I pushed my chair back to leave, and at that point Tim smiled at me and said, “I think I’ll just seduce you tonight, pretty lady. I’ve never been with a white woman, so being with a redhead would make it a very special treat. Tell me, are you a true redhead?”

I stood up quickly. “That’s no one’s business but my husband’s,” I told him, and then I left, heading straight for the elevators. I stepped into the first car that arrived and pushed the button for my floor, but Tim stepped in behind me just as the doors were closing.

“Don’t worry,” he assured me as the car started moving. “I wouldn’t think of forcing myself on you. But I have one question for you: Have you ever been with a man who had an eleven-inch cock?”

I collected my wits enough to tell him that I’d heard that from dozens of men in my lifetime, but none of them could actually prove it. With that Tim hit the stop button and opened his pants, fishing out the biggest, blackest cock I had ever seen, even in pictures or movies. It wasn’t fully erect, but even in its semi-hard state it was at least 10 inches long, and as thick as my wrist. Just looking at it sent hot flashes of desire through my loins. A fresh flow of pussy juice drenched my panties, and I knew there wasn’t any way I could resist this man even if I had wanted to, which I no longer did.

I stepped closer to him and took his cock in my hand, feeling it stiffen rapidly as I stood on my tiptoes to kiss him briefly. But recalling the condition my vagina was in, I gave him my room number and asked him to allow me half an hour to shower and freshen up before he came to me.

Tim smiled at me. “Don’t worry about that,” he said. “My cock and I like a pussy that feels and smells natural, not like flowers and soap. Please let me come with you now.”

“You may be sorry if you do,” I told him. “I haven’t had a shower since last night.”

He kissed my forehead, saying, “Like I said, I like a woman to smell like a woman. Please, I want to be with you right now, just as you are.”
I relented and led the way to my room, where he spent 20 minutes stripping me to my little white cotton bikini panties, while kissing and nibbling at every square inch of flesh he exposed. When he slipped out of his own clothes I couldn’t wait to get my hands on that cock, to wrap my lips around the huge glans and savor the sweet nectar oozing from the tip.

Before I had a chance, however, he knelt by my feet to take hold of my panties with both hands, and I held my breath as he peeled them down over my thighs and off my legs. His eyes never left the triangle of bright red hair at my crotch as he put his hands under my knees and raised them before spreading my legs wide.

There is no ladylike way for a woman to expose her sex to someone, so all I could do was lie there flat on my back and allow Tim to stare at my gaping cunt. I knew all too well what it looked like after it had been ravaged by two men in the morning, then encased in tight panties all day. If Tim had any knowledge of pussies at all, I knew he could tell that I had engaged in intercourse since I’d last showered; so I was very surprised when he leaned forward eagerly to bury his face in my musky snatch.

He feasted on my savory box for a good 10 minutes, until he had brought me to climax twice. Then he kissed his way up over my tummy to nuzzle my soft 34Cs for a minute before rising above me, placing the bulbous head of his cock between my splayed cunt lips. He gently nudged that purple prow into my slippery entrance, then fed about six inches of extremely thick man meat into my waiting pussy.

He paused then, to ask if I was okay with taking a little more. “Oh God, yes!” I gasped out. “Give it all to me!” He continued slowly then, working himself just a little further in with each stroke until he seemed to bottom out, then stopped again to give me time to adapt to the intrusion. I clutched his buttocks with my hands, pulling him closer. “Is it in?” I panted. “Is it all the way in?”

“Not quite,” he whispered. “But you took way more than I thought you could, a tiny little thing like you.”

When he still didn’t move I moaned impatiently and asked him if he was going to fuck me or just soak his dick in me all night. At that he started thrusting slowly, taking short strokes at first, then gradually increasing the length of them, until only the flared head of his dick remained inside each time he pulled out. Then he would plunge in again, sliding the full length of his cock over my swollen clitoris. This action soon sent me into a series of orgasms that kept getting stronger as his hips moved faster. I was getting fucked harder than I had been in years, and I was loving it.

I was on the verge of the strongest orgasm yet when he finally slowed down, whispering, “I can’t hold back much longer, babe. Do you want me to pull out before I come?”

I held on to him tightly. “No,” I gasped. “It’s all right, I’ve had my tubes tied, you can’t get me pregnant.” With that he speeded up again, driving his cock into me about a dozen more times before he exploded, sending jet after jet of thick creamy come into places no man had ever reached before, and setting off a culminating orgasm that had me screaming with passion.  Only then did I realize I’d finally taken his entire cock into my body.

Tim and I spent our remaining nights in Chicago together, and though I enjoyed myself thoroughly, I was a little worried about having to face Bud and Earl when I got back. It was the first time I had been unfaithful since the three of us started living together, and I knew I would have to tell them all about it.

The two of them were in the kitchen fixing lunch when I arrived back home, and they both rushed to greet me. I kissed them each in turn. Then Bud stepped back and looked me up and down before breaking into a wide smile. “Oh my God, Earl,” he said. “I think our lady went and got herself laid in Chicago!”

Earl broke out laughing. “I told you she couldn’t keep her panties on forever,” he said. “Let’s take her upstairs and debrief her.” Which is exactly what they did, in more ways than one.

If there is anything better than living with two loving men, it is having two men who not only don’t mind you having outside flings, but who actually enjoy them almost as much as you do.

—R.D., San Francisco, California