SHARING IS MORE THAN CARING

Wife, Threesome

Shane and I grew up together, and we shared just about everything. We lived next door to each other. Lived in each other's pockets, basically. We got through school together, opened the batting as a pair for our local cricket club, and landed jobs simultaneously at the resident mill.

We were best man at each other's weddings, only two weeks apart, and resided in the town where we grew up, still working at The Mill. Our occasional escape from the grind of life was fishing at The Lake. I had inherited a late uncle's shack. It was basic, though, and we enjoyed our spouse- hassle-free rostered days off there.

My Julie was gorgeous but a married prim lady under the sheets. A missionary-only girl in the bedroom. We started our marriage, her virginal sex life there, and it hadn't changed in two years.

Shane had told me before the wedding day to test out Julie in my Ute, but I respected her too much; well, that and her dad would have neutered me before I got to the altar, the strict Catholic bastard. If he had ever thought my hand had touched her breast through her dress, let alone genuine petting. So, a tangle of tongues and some awkward body pressings were all we knew before our honeymoon.

Shane, meanwhile, was repeatedly shagging his Sandy everywhere before he tied the knot with her. First, under the bridge doggy style, just lifting her summer skirt and the following night, out by the weir, reverse cowgirl. He had her, he told me; stunningly fully naked, after a sweaty two-hour trek to the hot springs through our local National Park, including, he said, a slutty sensational steamy sixty-nine.

He had, had her soon after that begging for more, he told me; massaging her clitty; on frickin Ten Mile beach on a moonlit night; spooning her, her tightly wrenched bikini bottom yanked to the side and apparently; the bastard; he took her amazing tight arse after the sod cut a hole with shears through her jeans and knickers; behind The Mill.

Yeah, he was so confident in marrying Sandy that she would shag everywhere, in any position and anytime. Well, Sandy-Mae did, except quickly she wasn't particular about the cock servicing her, or cocks apparently, the deceitful wild tart. Her job at the local caravan park was too full of transient temptation.

Shane had always been upbeat and easy about life like me, so when his little lady just upped and left him with a temporary management guy from The Mill, who had been residing at the caravan park, and then everyone told him all the other rumours; it hit him hard, harder still that his wife had been cheating on him for ages.

I did what any good mate would do when his best friend was on a lousy downer; I took him fishing and broke our only rule by inviting Julie to come too. The truth was, I was worried about my quiet, sedate suburban wifey suddenly using a hooking-up app or worse and leaving me too. Maybe I was too comfortable in my married life.

Shane didn't care about the wife's rule being broken. He was ego kaput and wasn't connecting to anything as he wallowed in self-pity. Man, did I have my work cut out?

Julie told me before leaving for the shack, "I'm just glad to be coming, Michael; you both need someone to share this with and find a way forward."

I realised thirty seconds or less after we arrived at the lake shack that I should have left Julie behind because all she wanted to do was clean up a former bloke's only zone. But, jeez, we were here to fish, not spring clean.

I realised a minute into arriving I probably should have left the rueful hangdog, Shane, behind, too. It wasn't looking good; he looked at the lake as a place to more than drown his sorrows. But, unfortunately, he wasn't his old, playful, matey self. Shit, there was too much water around; God, I hoped he wasn't suicidal.

It was a relief to get away from Julie, who promised us a warm lunch, with or without any trout we might manage to catch, in a couple of hours. So off we went.

It was quiet. We concentrated on casting, watched the summer flies skim across the lake's surface, and looked for spots where the fish would be lured on the fly. Time and old habits and a female-free zone had Shane at least focused on something other than his cheating absent missus. Sometimes, nature just works its calming magic on the soul.

As luck would have it, and I thanked the fishing gods, Shane landed an absolute beauty. Around 1.5 kg, we estimated. While all I got was, yeah, the one that got away. So, we headed back for lunch. Finally, Shane and I could ease the afternoon away on the deck with a few beers and some barbecued fish. Then, listen to the test cricket.

Bugger if I knew what Julie was going to do. I didn't want her under our feet.

Well, lunch was a bloody treat. Julie can cook on any surface, and the combo of fresh herbed BBQ trout, a tossed salad, and a couple of cold beers was terrific. Shane was relaxed. Something petite and sweet for dessert would have made it bloody perfect, but the meal ticked appetising.

Julie, of course, had to start cleaning up the table before we had finished our beers. Too tidy, my missus.

In the absence of anything else to look at while drinking and before heading out to the deck, it was strange that both of us were watching Julie's arse as she washed up at the sink. I noticed her summery floral dress was short and flimsy. My best mate, I saw, was perving on my wife's arse, the sorry cock starved prick. How could I be jealous? He was close to smiling for the first time in a couple of months.

As Julie scrubbed something in the sink, her buttocks wobbled delicately and deliciously under her dress.

Shane and I, however, stopped drinking simultaneously as Julie reached up to the cupboard above and over from the sink, her bum cheeks revealed in increments of stunning porcelain rounded whiteness, defined by her curving indent crack. My eyes were like my best mate, expecting to see her knickers.

Oh, My GOD, my Julie, my dignified, demure, dainty wifey, had no knickers on.

She reached higher, her dress climbed up her skin with her; she was on her toes, her arse presented as divine cock arousing temptation.

What the fuck was going on here? How was I meant to shag her, if that's what she wanted, here in the kitchen, an arse I'd barely ever seen or touched, hidden under sheets at night. Who was my Julie? Had I got my and her sex life all wrong?

She found what she wanted: some extra washing-up liquid. Still, as she eased off her tippy toes and returned to the sink, she half turned and took in two sets of eyes locked on her body, well, her lower body, and she understood what we had both seen.

"Mmm," she went, drying her hands, "Yeah, boys, I did forget to give you dessert, but I can see you want it now."

I realised my Julie wanted me to accept her being shared with my needy mate.

But again, I was stunned.

Just who was this woman I'd married?

She ran her wet tongue over her lips, leaving a trail of glistening moisture. I just nodded. Well, probably in appreciation, but Julie took it as my acceptance. Pussy deprived Shane was on male pecker auto-pilot.

Oh, Julie, Julie, Julie, my wife was, in reality, a slut awaiting her release. I had probably failed her with staid missionary sex, thinking that was what she wanted and expected as a wife.

Julie's striptease brought back memories of Shane's buck's night, the hired stripper. Yeah, the red-headed tart had style, but she was clinical in her paid moves down to her black g-string. My Julie had a passion for her actions. A natural, unhurried, sensual enthusiasm to do the wrong thing right.

Her dress was off her shoulders, her shoulder blades looked heavenly, and her neck, as she tossed her head back, was elegant and kissable, and her longish brunette hair, usually tied, became a wild mane of shaken sexy potential.

Her eyes were shared with both of us. Her deep liquid, honeyed light brown orbs, playful and hinting, there was so much more to come. Her dress was at her waist, her lacey white bra barely containing her jiggling firm breasts. She released her clasp and let her bra fall to the floorboards, and allowed her tits to sway gently from side to side.

Then, she used her thighs for emphasis to push her chest muffins up. Her hard pink nipples between her fingers were nicely tweaked, and her fully rounded breasts were finally cupped, separated, and lifted.

All her actions coalesced to give me a boner in my pants. I heard Shane groan in appreciation.

I couldn't believe what I was seeing. Here was my wife of two years, whom I hadn't seen naked, half divested of her clothing, for me and my mate.

It was when she let her thin floral dress drop to her ankles, and in her pantiless state, there was my supposedly demure Julie in her birthday suit, fuck, she was gorgeous.

Her dark, slightly trimmed pubic mound was instantly eye drawing and cock stiffening. The contrast to her soft white skin and especially her tummy was spectacular. She did a series of gentle sways with her hips, pushed up and down like belly dancing.

So raunchy. She dropped her right hip in an accentuated move. Then up. Then, her left hip repeated the pattern.

What did this woman spend her day doing when I was at work? 

But it was her upward thrusting, and she held her breath to draw out the outline of her rib cage, emphasising her joggling tits and perky nipples, that made me want to be the puppeteer pulling her strings or even better playing with her.

If my Julie was now shameless, Shane was blatantly enjoying himself like he hadn't in a while. If I was seeing Julie naked for the first time, suddenly I realised out of the corner of my eye that I was seeing my best mate jerk his cock, for the first time.

What the fuck was happening here, and just how far was this going? Was I going to share my wife's actual body with my mate?

I didn't have time to think any of this through. Julie was doing the thinking for all three of us.

Her shimmy was eye-mesmerising and put my cock into the achy, needy womanly attention stage of its arousal. She was somehow entirely centred on her pelvis, an axis through her body, as she turned and let us watch her buttocks wobble and vibrate. A stunning combination of softness, the feminine and the potential for her explosive sexual strength to be revealed.

"Orrgh Fuck," I mouthed as she bent over, spreading her smooth arse cheeks.

My best mate was even more profane with, "Jesus, Fucking, Christ."

My formerly modest Julie bent and spread herself wide, her womanly pinkness like a strip of marshmallow in a deep, inviting, dark, spongy expanse. Yeah, there was dessert, and I was ready for it.

I said it as a mate; I invited my mate to share my missus. No qualms. No second thoughts. Julie was too into this.

"Get your pants off, mate. "

My pants and boxers were off as Julie started moaning, fingering herself. My supposedly timid mouse, jilling herself off in front of Shane and me. One leg up on the sink. My petite lady could stretch herself, and I'd never tested her skills in two years.

What a frickin waste, but it wasn't happening again, I told myself.

Shane's hard cock was raging in front of his body just like mine, our ball sets packed tight against our searching leading appendage.

Inhibited, unassertive, and shy, the words that everyone in our small town used to describe my Julie were revealed in a double cock exploring sequence by my wife to be sententious bullshit.

I saw the look on Shane's face as my wife sucked his pecker off. No hesitation. She dropped to her knees and sucked him off while stroking my needy stiffy.

Shane couldn't believe it as he groaned, "Orrgh, Orrgh."

Well, neither could I. I was watching my sweet, kind missus give head to my mate.

There was a perverse enjoyment in seeing both their pleasure. But I was happy too. I was gratified and kinkily excited to see Julie take another guy's cock in her mouth. But then I realised the lucky bastard had got her sweet lips locked around his pecker before I ever had. I wanted my cock in her mouth too.

Shane must have thought I was married to the most amazing double-faced woman. He had ribbed me about my quiet, modest woman in contrast to his seemingly sensationally sexy Sandy-Mae.

The truth was even I didn't know Julie's potential till this moment.

What a coiled woman she was, A Salome waiting for her sexual release and how bizarre that it involved my best mate.

Oh, Julie wasn't neglecting me. My first ever suck-off was pecker-inspiring. I'd be back for more.

"Ah, aah, aaah," I moaned in total appreciation.

Her wet mouth glided along my shaft. Her tongue swept over my bunched balls. And all the while, she managed somehow to multitask and tug Shane's cock. I could see Shane was as excited as I had been, watching Julie swallow my knob really deep.

My wife stopped sucking me and got partially up, spreading her legs and said: "Michael, take me from behind," with that, she bent over and jagged Shane's cock into her inner cheek and cupped his balls for a friendly fondling.

I had never taken my reserved sweetheart anything but missionary under the sheets, and here she was offering herself doggy. Yet, at the same time, she sucked off my best mate.

Of course, I jacked into her pussy from behind her. Holding her hips and enjoying her moist tunnel of warm, enveloping delight. My hardness meshed with her pussy softness. My pelvis pummelled into her butt cheeks. Her drenching inner wetness seeped around my balls.

I could hear the sucky saliva-soaked sucking as my brunette beauty flouncing her locks gave Shane's cock a virtual tonsil tickle. My aroused pecker was trying to breach her womb because I was so energised and sexually wound up.

All three of us were supposedly doing what you are not supposed to do. It's one of those commandments: don't covet your mate's wife. But there was no initial yearning or craving by Shane for Julie and no cuckolding of me; Julie had chosen to share herself, and I consented, and Shane agreed to join us.

Yes, Julie cared too much, and I was finding out. Also, she had plenty to share.

Sexual consent in any numbered naked circumstance beyond two highlights our base randy being more than we probably want to concede. Who made the rules limiting our sexual expression? We are who we indeed really are in these strange, liberated moments.

I was in pussy creaming territory. The groans coming from Shane indicated he had to be close to his jizz release.

Oh shit, it hit me; my mate would cum all over my sweet missus' face or in her mouth.

Maybe if we swapped, he'd cum before he got in her pussy?

I was being jealously protective, I realised.

"Swap mate, swap mate," I urged, stating it again. "Swap, mate."

Shane was in cock rapture in Julie's pussy; my formerly butter wouldn't melt in her mouth; wifey was, in reality, a cock craving married repressed trollop. Seemingly, it was all my fault for misreading her from our courting and honeymoon.

There was no misreading her true whorish pleasure as she moaned aggressively as Shane dogged her deep.

"Ooh, oooh, yes, yes, oooh."

He held her hips like me, but his thrusting can only be described as manic jackhammering. It made Julie gasp and lose my cock and occasionally gag, trying to get a rhythm in her mouth as her pussy was caught in a body buffeting courtesy of my mate's cock tunnelling speedily into her with macho gusto.

I was enjoying Julie's efforts with my pecker in her gob. The warmth, the tacky, fluidly gummy sponging of my maleness and her tongue sporadically wickedly curling under my glans.

It was absa-fuckingly-unbelievably mind-blowing and close to cum unloading,

But she couldn't quite catch my tip enough with Shane's increasingly rough house efforts driving her to an orgasm. I realised he would cream my darlings, usually reserved solely for my release, cute pussy.

"Her arse mate, mate, can I have her arse," a rasping, gasping, still jacking into her sloppy slit Shane, directed to me.

Oh Shit, he thought I took this wonderful woman in the rear on a regular hedonistic basis.

Was now the moment to confess that my sweetie, my shy princess was a married anal virgin? 

Oh, screw it. Sharing is more than caring. I had that devilishly happy moment when I saw my mate prepping my missus' arse for me.

No wonder my bitch was pitched moaning.

I realised Shane had been digging a couple of fingers in her back crack. Sometimes, your mate turns out to be a clever, cunning bastard.

I hesitated.

If anyone was cracking my angel's balloon knot, surely that was reserved for me.

Apparently not.

"Yeah…Yes…Fuck my arse…Shane…fuck my arse now," from Julie. Said like she had been waiting her whole sex life for a stiffy up her bum.

Well, if she was going to be whored between us, she would never forget it. So I pulled her forward just as Shane was bent over, spitting in her spread crack for a generous dose of entry lube for his swollen purple-headed cock.

I caught a glimpse of my raging stiffy. My knob engorged beyond usual as I spiked my Julie down onto my cock as she hovered above me.

Now I was on the floor, drawing Shane's cock down behind her and as I realised straight into her gaped arse.

Screw caring, neither of us cared for Julie in that instance, but by Christ, we were sharing her. 

I don't think Julie actually cared what she must have looked like. Instead, my new-found skank embraced the double pleasure of sharing.

God knows what I looked like, my balls being ticked gently by Shane's nuts as he buggered my wife.

My cock was shoved hard in my wife's pussy. Her body weight and Shane's above her, pushing her clitty in an orgasm-shaping squeeze against my pubic bone.

My stiff rod of man meat was striking into Julie's pussy. My mate's meat stick was forced into her. I imagined her tight arse. The flesh of three bodies intertwined. Skin shaping skin. Pleasure overlapping and subscribing to new pleasure sensations. Flesh filled. Skin-delivering sensation. Ego exposed as flesh and skin. The dynamics of sex rippled.

Then, we all slowed virtually in sync, compelled by the sheer overriding mounting diffusion of pleasure. Probably nothing cosmic here. Just catching our dirty collective breaths.

And I wanted her arse. I wanted my wife's arse so bad. I had to cream her arse. I wanted to be her first anal cream pie because I realised it was too late to take her butthole first.

I couldn't feel Shane's balls on mine as I speared in and out of Julie's sodden warm cunt. I realised as he groaned deeply and repeatedly that his balls had fully retracted as he jizzed my missus' really deep.

Oh shit, I missed out again.

This sharing thing maybe wasn't the way to go.

Shane was off my missus, beaming, smiling. His pecker glistened with wet happiness. Cum dribbling from his knob.

Oh, fuck it, I wanted Julie's arse regardless.

I urged her close to climaxing pussy off me getting her to stand, and basically assaulted her arse from behind. I had no idea what anal sex was like, let alone with my formerly placid wife, now bacchanale in her body desires.

I ploughed straight into her. Yep, my mate had prepped her backdoor perfectly. Though she gave a series of pleading yelps.

"Orrgh, Michael, Orrgh, yes, yes, don't you stop."

My Julie remained still tight, though.

All gooey and accommodating. Warm and holding. Her bum was a tight tunnel of rapidly escalating filthy desire for my hard-burrowing pecker. She was moaning and writhing. Her arse was really enjoying a second cock.

"Oh, fuck that good, harder and deeper, you bastard," she urged me.

My missus' wanted it shovelled to her buggerised depths.

Well, I cared enough to give her what she wanted. My cock aching for its ball-bursting release in her stunning combination of arse-relaxed shaping and gripping constriction.

Suddenly, everything intensified for three.

Shane, the slippery prick perched under my wife, between her legs, obviously licking her slit and clitty. Julie and I both hit the upward slope of impending orgasm gratification together. Three individuals joined in smutty, filthy sharing. In a surging series of buttock and thigh-driven thrusts, I humped my wife's arse perfectly to give her a cream-filled overload.

Yeah, my mate had primed her well for my anal coup de gras. 

Julie was reduced to the wobbles as she climaxed effusively under Shane's tongue work on her clitty and my arse ramming efforts.

Treat your spouse like a whore… that's what I learnt at the shack by the lake.

And sharing, you can't beat sexual sharing.

Julie went on presenting as innocent and shy to the world, well, with a dad like hers, but boy, did our sex lives ramp it up.

Yeah, even married, I dogged her under the bridge, sixty-nined her at the weir and had her arse at the hot springs and inside the boiler room at work.

Oh, Shane is fine. Julie set him up with her step-cousin, Cindy-Lou. But, God, the pre-wedding party was sordid. And well, what the four of us now get up to, that's another story to write.

True dirty happiness is mass participation.

Don't let anyone convince you of any of that platonic friend's happiness crap; the more bodies shared, the more astounding and exponential the pleasure.