I watched the head of my cock nose in to the pearly drop of another man's cum that had pooled in the soft opening to my wife's vagina. His and her silky warmth coated the shaft of my cock while a soft moan escaped her lips. Her skin felt cool and dewy to my touch; the sweat from her exertions evaporating, leaving her salty, musky, intoxicating.
When she began bringing him into our home for her weekly massage, I never would have foreseen that it would bring us to this moment.
At first she would leave her panties on. She discouraged his hands from going anywhere beneath the towel that guarded her modesty. The oil on her skin and the hour of unselfish touch left her glowing and alive.
Then one day she rolled onto her back, exposing her nipples to the bright sunshine that filled our living room. His hands dismissed the tension in the muscles beneath, then finished gently with the softness of her breasts. His touch had brought her to a quiet orgasm.
The next week she went completely naked beneath the towel but his hands never strayed beneath the cottony, scratchy softness. The memory of his hands on her chest brought a private heat and wetness beneath the towel.
The next week she asked him to work out the tension in her buttocks. She slid the towel aside to invite him. Being fully naked in the presence of another man felt liberating, titilating, terrifying. The awareness of her nakedness amplified by the unfamiliar coolness on her skin. The tension of his hands on such intimate skin brought the warmth and wetness that she was afraid he could detect. She felt ashamed and aroused.
A few weeks later, she asked him to work on the tension in her hips. This time on her back, she removed the towel for him again. Now fully nude, exposing all of her vulnerability to this man who knew her so intimately through his hands. Hands that moved expertly over the strong muscles of her hips and thighs, never grazing even a hair of the manicured triangle on her soft mons.
A few weeks later, she parted her legs as he worked. The heat was so intense; the aroma of her arousal undeniable. Yet his hands never touched even a hair. One touch that she knew would have transported her beyond her body.
A few more weeks later his fingers grazed the silky hairs of her labia and she moaned. His fingers gently massaged the slippery wetness and eventually found the burgeoning jewel in her folds. His fingers penetrated her, massaging her sex with the same expertise he had applied to the muscles under her skin. He left her with the whisper of a clean sheet pulled over her warm skin. It smelled of sunshine and summer air.
A few weeks after that, she brought him to our bed.
Now she embraces me more closely. Her arms and legs wrap tightly around me. When she looks into my eyes her love is deeper. The warmth from her sex radiates into my body from the conduit between us. Our movement together has worked the wetness we share into a froth. I have attuned my body to the low hum of energy, to sustain it, to be patient, to thrust, and pause, and tease until the warmth spreads through her hips and she grips my hips into hers. Until her eyes roll back, my warmth spreads inside her, and we both make entreaties to the goddess whose presence fills our room.
And now her body lies next to mine, my arm draped around her, my fingers caressing her skin. Our eyes are closed; our breaths come and go together.
I love her.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/2hdmw9/she_awakens_mmf