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.