A Bite-Sized Company: The Morsel
Oh dear, Emmie gasped from the bedroom.
"What?" asked Chris, halting his electric toothbrush's whir, his muscles tense.
"Oh...nothing much. I learned that my pal Steve is getting divorced," said his wife from the bedroom. "That sure makes me feel sad. They were an amazing couple together."
Chris flipped the toothbrush back on. Steve...Steve... He might have recognized the name, but that was all. But over time, he learned not to rely on his "man memory," which rarely remained stark naked. Emmie, on the other hand, seemed to remember every little detail, while Chris typically remembered episodes she deemed crucial only in their most general form.
He completed brushing, rinsed, and pushed his hair back from his face. He'd not visited a barber throughout the pandemic, and his curls were returning to the golden hue of his youth. He winced slightly at the memory of his father's voice - you're some kind of fruit now? ... an embarrassment to me and your mother...
Fortunately, the old man was deceased. And I like my hair like this, he reminded himself. So does Emmie.
Slithering into bed next to her on their messy, king-sized bed, he observed the furrows in her brow. She offered a perfunctory smile, illuminated by her laptop's white light and her graying brown curls cascading over her forehead.
"What's up?" he inquired.
"I'm bummed out about Steve! Do you remember him?" she asked.
"Uh huh, I think so..."
"He was the 'Morsel,'" informed Emmie.
Ah, right, the 'Morsel,' he recalled. Because Emmie thought he was adorable and cuddly. Gay. Former housemate, he calculated. It was simpler to recall Emmie's pet names.
"Yeah, right," he agreed, though he couldn't summon up his friend's image or any other specific memories.
"We only met once," Emmie remarked.
"Yes, at the fall music festival," he replied. "And he was with his partner, Nico."
"Oh yes, him," Chris recalled.
The Morsel was under six feet, with brown, wavy hair, icy, light-blue eyes, and the athletic build of some Boulder natives: runners, climbers, cyclists. He remembered thinking that The Morsel still appeared "normal" - not gay - as if there was a "gay look" all homosexuals shared. How awkward, he mused with a flash of embarrassment. Even at his age.
"They just appeared so happy!" Emmie sighed romantically. She often supported couples, as if their prowess fortified her own marriage and every failed relationship presented a threat. Her gaze clouded as she said, "God, I was so smitten with him!"
"In love? Seriously? Should I be aware of this?" Chris queried, keenly aware of her expectation that he was. "Is he bi or...?"
"Oh no, he was as gay as they come," she said. "When I lived at The Place, we'd get loaded and lounge together in bed, our arms around each other like cuddly cats."
The Place was Emmie's name for Carter's run-down Victorian home, which Carter commended for attracting "alternative" individuals into his magnetic field and stirring feelings of affection. The abode housed five or six inhabitants at any given moment, including, briefly, Emmie.
Years ago, Chris was unimpressed by Carter, who manipulated Emmie's yearning for love in their on/off relationship for several years. Despite the guy's theoretical allure to her, Chris lacked the energy for the youthful distractions.
"I bet I didn't share this with you," Chris concluded, wrapping his arm around her possessively. Active and fit, Emmie continued to maintain her fitness through cycling, playing tennis, and twice-weekly dance classes. The encryption of her silver strands only made her sexier, he thought, caressing her hair.
"Probably not," she agreed, gripping his hand tightly. "I probably wouldn't have shared it back then because I think you might've gotten envious."
"Jealous? Of you snuggling with your gay mate? I'm unsure even the most unrefined version of my earlier self would've found that unsettling."
"Except," she clarified, "it was more than that. We used to indulge in a little oral sex, too," Emmie admitted.
The Place was Emmie's moniker for Carter's deteriorating Victorian house, which had summoned "alternative" types into his power and prompted their infatuation for him. Occupied by 5 or 6 inhabitants at any given time, this abode once housed Emmie.
Years ago, Chris was unmoved by Carter, who exploited Emmie's longing for love in their intermittent relationship for several years. Although she still respected the guy's charisma, he lacked the energy to indulge in more youthful preoccupations.
"I doubt the primal version of my younger self would've deemed this a source of jealousy," Chris summarized, embracing her.
Chris observed the expression on her face and realized she wasn't joking. Suddenly, a flame of desire sprang up in his stomach, the usual catalyst for his longings. "Your story is getting intriguing," he said, unable to contain his mischief. "Don't leave out any details!"
It had taken many years, but Emmie had become more accepting of sharing her sexually vibrant past with him, overcoming her anxiety of hurting his feelings as he grew older and less judgmental. Chris found her hesitation perplexing, considering she grew up in a home devoid of religion and with a zestfully "sex-positive" single therapist mother, and openly declared herself a "total slut" as a youth.
As she had indeed been. From the age of 12, she had relationships with both girls and boys, encounters with older men, casual sex with complete strangers, a female cousin, threesomes, and foursomes - and she swore like a sailor. Meanwhile, Chris adhered to the guideline set by his Catholic upbringing, trudging through a life of mostly vanilla monogamy that felt stifling, yet mandatory.
"We genuinely loved each other," Emmie stated, ignoring his goading. "Like, genuinely in love. If he hadn't been gay..." He'd had female romantic relationships, but found female genitals unappealing; she, in contrast, found the mere mention of female genitals abominable and tripped over her worn-out sneakers every time the subject arose. But he couldn't help but relish her sucking his penis.
"Quite the shocker," Chris remarked, leaning on one elbow and feeling himself stiffening in his loose-fitting scrubs. "Do you still remember what it was like?"
Emmie flashed a theatrical, grinning smile and nodded, resembling a schoolgirl disclosing a secret crush.
Chris had spent many years concealing his obsession with large penises from his wife, fearing her reaction. However, he discovered that she was comfortable with his fascination; she even fueled his fantasies with suggestions.
"It was average-sized, comparatively speaking," Emmie mentioned casually, as if she'd stumbled across a long-forgotten letter from an old acquaintance. "About the same length as yours, surprisingly. It was an excellent one, though, just my taste..." Emmie traced her fingers along Chris' stomach and discovered what she was searching for.
"Mmhmm, sweetie," he breathed, his voice husky. "Continue telling me..."
She went on.
A few days later, Chris returned from a run and overheard Emmie on the phone. Her tone and lively motions throughout the house indicated that it was old friend Laurel on the line. She'd lived with Carter, one of many lovers who had parted ways.
"I still can't believe Mr. and Mr. Morsel are no more," Emmie said, still in the kitchen. "Yup, I know. They always seemed perfect for each other. Oh wait, I guess Nico just became a boring, bald old man who couldn't be bothered with sex any longer. No, that's not true, he was hot, but he certainly looks like a frumpy, lifeless frumpster now. But The Morsel still looks so delicious..." Emmie waved and smiled at Chris as he ascended the stairs to shower, eavesdropping on the conversation.
"I didn't know that Nico was overbearing," he said. "Really?" she replied enthusiastically. "He was controlling? Wow, I never would've guessed that! I just remember him as this hot guy with a beautiful smile who wandered through his days with a cloud of pot smoke..."
As Chris made his way back downstairs to blend a smoothie, he hoped that Emmie would make one, too. She was so much better at it than he was.
"Did I hear you say Nico might be visiting for a visit?"
Emmie cackled. "I love that you just pick up the lingo. It's so cute! I highly doubt it. But, he still has all that money from selling his software startup, so he's been fetching young studs and traveling the world, treating them to lavish vacations and indulging in endless sex. Completely!" she added, laughing heartily. "Gay-cations; that's hilarious. But how can one blame him?"
Chris could never get over Emmie's ability to describe other people's sex lives so brazenly, as long as it wasn't her own. He was always captivated by her lighthearted approach. He attempted to visualize The Morsel's intimate encounters with attractive, youthful men in luxurious, exotic locations, the ceiling fan lazily stirring the air.
"Good for him," he said.
"Really?" Emmie exclaimed with excitement. "I'm about to leave soon. I've got a class at the beach at 11."
Chris had several work calls to make, but his mind was occupied by images of a much younger Emmie giving her gay friend a blowjob, who was just a bit of a hazy figure in his imagination. The thought of his wife, even though she wasn't as unrestrained as she used to be, still engaging in oral sex with any man made him feel turned on.
It wasn't just sexual desire, though. He pondered as he gazed out the office window towards the beach and the flat ocean. Memories surfaced, unwelcome, of his foolish infatuation with a woman at a conference. A year's worth of therapy, and they were attempting to revitalize their marriage. Emmie wasn't fully over it yet; perhaps she never would be. Chris felt uneasy, fearing they would never fully heal. God, please not, he thought.
Hoping to put it behind him, Chris punched in The Morsel's full name on his keyboard. He was surprised to find The Morsel looking less sleazy than he had imagined. Instead, he seemed just... nice.
The Morsel's social media profile showed photo after photo with younger, handsome men in London, St. Thomas, and Phuket. Chris had expected to see a womanizer, smooth, wealthy, and superficial. However, finding him to be simply amiable confirmed in Chris's mind that his marriage could never be whole again. He trembled, his heart rate increasing.
He scrolled through more photos, then began to browse porn, choosing to view only "cheating wives," "hotwives," and "threesomes," anything that depicted women unleashing their passion. Almost all the videos were a sham, but the stories were entertaining. Chris clicked on a short clip of a round, pretty woman passionately engaged in foreplay with her husband while describing the details of an adulterous encounter. Save for the possible consternation about his behaviour, Chris had no qualms about his desires.
Chris undressed, stroking himself slowly, soaking up the rush of excitement he felt. Rarely did he indulge in this, preferring to channel his sexual energy towards Emmie. Yet the sensation of his brain being bombarded with sexual chemicals was stimulating and relaxing, acting as an aphrodisiac. Instead of watching, he closed his eyes. An odd blend of images emerged in his head: a young, vibrant Emmie performing oral sex on The Morsel... The Morsel, surrounded by handsome younger men, taking the lead with the curious.
This time, he couldn't resist re-enacting his favourite fantasy.
========
In Chris's mind, women were typically more reserved than men when it came to having sex outside of marriage. It wasn't illogical, considering evolutionary reasons.
Emmie, who advocated for women's rights, gay rights, trans rights, and all human rights, was more liberal than most. She would rage over religious prudes meddling in people's sex lives. Yet, she insisted she had always only wanted Chris. When Chris admitted his desire to watch her with men, she fretted over its implications.
"No no," he said, "it's mostly about you. I want you to lose control, to embrace your desires." He explained his fantasy: his beautiful wife letting go, freed from his mistakes, his wrongdoings, all the injuries he'd inflicted in their 25-year marriage. This would soothe his guilt, a little, and help him accept himself, blemishes and all.
It took him a long time to express this urge to Emmie, and even longer to accept it about himself. Despite Emmie's love for him, she would always tell him, "I only really want you."
Yet deep inside, Chris wanted more. He wanted to witness Emmie lose herself to a hot guy or big dick. Here was his ultimate fantasy: watch and even join.
Scary, he thought, recalling the details of his confession. She loves you, it's not about her. No, it's not about her. She accepts you, accept yourself.
Thinking back to The Morsel, Chris pondered if Emmie would be more open to the idea if it were someone she was truly at ease with. This thought brought a sense of dread to the fantasy, as he didn't want to lose her.
The following night, while entangled on the bed, Chris broached the subject. "If it's someone you genuinely like, or even love, do you think you'd consider it?"
Emmie replied with a touch of caution, "Maybe."
"Like The Morsel?"
Silence from Emmie, and Chris could feel her heart racing faster. He pecked her cheek, then the corner of her mouth.
"Remember those times ... They were so relaxing being with him," Emmie reminisced, her voice dreamy. "I did love him ... He provided such comfort."
"Do you think he'd enjoy fucking your ass?" Chris asked.
Emmie smiled, "I'm sure I would've, but he never showed any interest. He's gay, attracted to men, even if he accepted a blowjob from a slutty young thing like me."
A shiver ran through Chris at the thought of this. As he began to harden, he inched inside Emmie twenty minutes later, slowly fucking her. She used her vibrator, teasing him with a glimpse of that heated memory.
Chris whispered, "Imagine watching The Morsel fuck your ass."
"Mmmm, I would love that!" he said, his throat heavily laden with arousal as orgasm loomed near. "Maybe you should tell him you'd like him to visit..."
"He can fuck both our asses then," Emmie commented, her voice laced with that familiar pre-orgasmic excitement.
"Oh fuck," Chris groaned, tightening his grip on her cheeks as he exploded, his mind ablaze.
With Chris continually stimulating her G-spot, she had three more quick orgasms seconds later.
"I guess you liked that scenario," she said, both of them lying sweaty on the bed.
"Damn ... Yeah, I did."
"No need to hide it, baby. You're my freaky lover," Emmie declared.
~~
"Is this for real?" Chris asked, surprised. ...this is all fantasy don't get worked up...
"Yes! In three weeks! He's passing through, so he decided to take a small detour."
"Wow. How'd this arrangement come about?"
Emmie feigned innocence, "I don't know. We've been talking about it for a while."
The thought of their past fantasy left a tingling sensation in his heart, "Do you think he's going to stay with us?"
"Oh hell, no. He prefers an Airbnb."
This little detail touched a nerve. It was likely a place where The Morsel could have mad sex with any guy he pleased.
"I'm so excited for you!" Chris hissed, embracing his lover and kissing her cheek. "You'll have a lovely time."
~~
Emmie climaxed particularly fiercely when Chris took his exploration of her best spot up a notch. Taken aback, he hastily changed the topic. "Did you think ... could The Morsel fuck you while I was fucking you too?"
"Oh my god," Chris exhaled, flashing on the scene with The Morsel's huge cock between them.
The fantasy he'd always conjured involved sharing oral pleasure with a faceless, muscular guy. But anally?! He hadn't mentioned this to Emmie before. Fuck it, screw others' opinions, this is just about me...
Chris then focused solely on Emmie, lavishing attention onto her sexy nook. She grasped at the bedsheets, moaning and eventually crying out! Her body involuntarily trembled with the force of her orgasm.
"Emmie, I was considering something ... If we both got together with him, would you let me watch him fuck your ass?"
"Ahh, yes!" Emmie reacted, her neck arching and eyes closing as she felt a second orgasm approach.
"Quick, baby ... tell The Morsel you like the idea of us visiting him together."
"He can fuck our asses," she replied, a high-pitched gasp accompanied an uncontrollable shudder.
"Oh shit," Chris groaned, gripping her cheeks tightly as he erupted.
Emmie, too, launched into her third, fourth, and fifth orgasms, her body quaking, and face beaming with joy.
"I'm happy you enjoyed that," Emmie observed, both their bodies lightly covered in sweat.
"Fuck, I did," he moaned with a brief chuckle before adding, "You're not disgusted with me, right?"
"Why would I be?" she asked, lightly scolding him. "You're my wicked love ... Your indulgences don't bother me."
"I absolutely adore witnessing your pleasure," Chris said. ...goodness me, so heated, who cares if it's a bit embarrassing, you can be who you want to be... He stroked rapidly and intensely, letting out growls and moans as he erupted all over her stomach and chest.
"Wow," he said a short while later after lying next to her. "It's as though every orgasm propels me into a whirlwind of colors in space, as if I'm truly seeing it."
"Mmmm. Did you know I can sense when you cum extra forcefully, sweetheart?" Emmie said, her eyes closed and a slight smile on her lips. She chuckled. "Wow. Now who's the one with strange desires? I'm not sure where that came from, but I'm thrilled you enjoyed it!"
"I guess I was just..." Chris began, bowing to the urge to apologize for his lust, his sexuality, his body, himself.
"Shh," his wife interrupted, putting a finger onto his lips. "You don't need to explain."
"But you're aware of my crazy oral fantasies..." he started.
"Did you really just say 'oral'?" Emmie questioned. "That's not you, darling, it's just impure ideas from your past. Right?"
"Right," Chris said, thinking back to when he was a young boy, looking at himself naked in the bathroom mirror, experiencing raw pleasure ... and the door opens. Screaming, covering his parts, begging her to shut the door, so embarrassed for the rest of the day. I dearly hope you don't become someone like so many other guys...
"But I know you wouldn't truly act on those, right?" he said, thinking he sounded like she did. "It's just a fantasy."
"Shh," Emmie repeated. "It's just me."
Chris curled up closer to her warmth.
"Thank you," he whispered, which is all he'd had to say all along.
For someone as wealthy as The Morsel, he appeared normally average.
While others had traveled first class, he had flown coach, rented a basic hybrid, and driven to his rather standard AirBnB on the beach. Now, he sat on Chris and Emmie's porch, bare feet hanging off the railing, sipping a margarita.
Chris couldn't help but compare himself to The Morsel's physique. Chris maintained physical fitness, but he was five or six years older, and The Morsel was a genuine golden god. Cycling, climbing, windsurfing, backcountry skiing, weightlifting - the guy wasn't going to let age compromise his health and vitality.
Sluggish, overweight men don't attract younger counterparts, Chris thought with a wry grin. Although he imagined himself as a wealthy homosexual hedonist, he didn't want to seem too interested.
"God, all those photos on your page with your handsome guys," she exclaimed cheerfully. "You're a cradle robber!"
"What can I say?" The Morsel replied with laughter.
"How do you find them?" Chris questioned, the words escaping his lips involuntarily. He cast a glance at Emmie, but her full, animated focus was on her acquaintance.
"Dating apps. People grumble about them, but they are better than the old, nightclub scene. I'm too ancient to be going out, you know."
Chris went to check the fish grilling on the barbecue. As he flipped two pieces of salmon, he realized how much he wished something would happen with The Morsel, be it even a return to Emmie's habit of giving him a blowjob. No way, not like her, he contemplated, then winced at unwanted memories of his father's crude comments.
Gee, thanks Dad, he thought, wondering if he would've been braver if not for all that shame. But he knew who was blocking him now, and it wasn't a deceased man. He felt a sharp, tangible pain in his stomach. Regrets and shame still lingered.
Intrigued by the connection between Emmie and her friend, Chris felt an overwhelming sense of sadness. He recalled how they were before the affair. ...what were you thinking, so dumb, you were wrong for her... They were almost back to normal, thankfully, but he envied their unburdened connection. He took three deep breaths and focused on this fear of being excluded. ...maybe you should just leave, let them be, she needs some rest from you... yeah but we made a mistake, forgiveness is possible...
Chris flipped the salmon onto a clean plate, pulse pounding, and reentered the living room.
Following dinner, Emmie and The Morsel shared a joint of premium marijuana. Chris abstained, opting to remain fully conscious for what was to come... or what might occur. He observed them merging into one another on the comfy sofa, much like the canine embrace Emmie had explained. Soon, Emmie was astride Chris' lap, peeling off his shirt to expose a still firm stomach and a smooth, bronzed chest.
"Get your ass over here! Join the party!" Emmie urged, tapping the cushion beside her. Instruction: Chris reluctantly shifted to the opposite end of the couch, grinning awkwardly.
"You're welcome, friend," The Morsel said smoothly. "Join the fun. You're one of us."
Chris, while entertaining twitches from his penis, was drawn to the phrase 'invited', 'part of', 'wanted'. His liking for this man was palpable. He had qualities Chris liked - decent, friendly, and a hint of almost cuddly.
"Having a blast, blast, blast!" Emmie sang in a falsetto, mimicking the Beach Boys. "Remember that crazy house, baby?" She laid a big kiss on The Morsel's tanned, sunburnt face.
"You bet!" he responded with an innocent twist of his head, sending a smirk at Chris.
Chris observed from a distance while pondering. Had Emmie given The Morsel clues about their fantasies? Was The Morsel privy to his infidelities?... Christ, we're doing better than ever. I'm fine... Deep breaths were prompted by his nervousness. ...so exhausting holding it in pleasing aligning lying... Street vendor hot dogs were replaced by thoughts of Emmie's bare hand touching The Morsel's bright yellow cargo shorts. ...A f**king wedding ring, so hot...
"Uh... yeah, we had so much fun," Emmie intoned playfully, sliding her fingers over the buttons of her friend's shorts. "Too bad you weren't present. Oh, well."
The Morsel laughed while giving a waggly wink in Chris' direction.
"I said I wanted to revisit some old memories," he said, chuckling his eyes, "You're okay with that, right?"
Chris' shameful blush was deep and intense as he couldn't escape the Morsel's friendly gaze. ...Don't hide, don't flee, now's your chance... Chris mustered the courage to inch closer towards The Morsel. Reddened with arousal, he focused solely on Emmie's hands and started unbuttoning his shorts.
"What are you doing, Chris?" Emmie queried, ordering him like a forceful adolescent, "No touching, not me, not you, definitely not The Morsel. This is my show, honey."
..."It's not rejection, a game, it's sexy... hot..."
The Morsel turned to Chris and expressed, "Are you alright?"
Chris managed to squeak, "Yes." His body tingled with excitement, fear, jealousy, arousal, and lustful expectations. ...you could be friends with someone like this, and hold and touch him...
"Oh yeah!" Emmie rejoiced giddily like a little girl with unlimited power. "I'll show The Morsel a thing or two," she began to remove his shorts, unzipping him from a distance. The Morsel shifted, prompting Chris nearer to the expanded phallus that was another man's possession.
"Dear oh dear, it is truly decadent," Emmie praised what she saw. "And so... thick!" She leaned in, giving the head a loving slurp. Chris felt a tingling sensation in his nether regions, even as he experienced a surge of jealously, nearly dread... not her, but us; together with The Morsel, not made for him.
"She once had quite proficient skill in the art of fellatio. Can she still knock it out of the park?" The Morsel asked boastfully, gazing at Chris with the admiration of a lover.
"Oh my god... it really is magnificent," Emmie whistled, emphasising the 'hand job'. Chris had finally unmasked the truth: they had conspired to enact his dream - him, Emmie, and a big, magnificent appendage. [sic] [sic] [sic]
Engulfed by a turbulent sea of thoughts and sensations, Chris found himself lost in their rapid current, unable to even respond verbally. His gaze stayed fixed on his wife as she bobbed her head on her gay friend's hard cock. With a deep groan, Chris firmly rested one hand on the throbbing bulge in his pants.
"Stop!" Emmie exclaimed, dragging her lips away from The Morsel's gleaming organ. "You're not allowed to interrupt anymore."
A rush of nervous excitement and burning impatience pulsed through Chris' veins, feeding the heat in his abdomen and nether regions. Emmie's performance was captivating, but what was the purpose of this show? Penance for the pain Chris had caused... forged through the crucible of his deepest, most forbidden desires... an assertion of her authority... matters beyond that?
It's okay, you're okay, this is a precious gift for me, Chris' mind fervently declared, sharing a private laugh at the outrageous notion of sucking cock as an act of love.
The Morsel moaned with delight as Emmie's lips resumed their rapid up-and-down movements on his steely shaft. Chris' eyes widened, bracing himself for the impending detonation, yearning... desperately desiring to be part of Emmie's performance.
"Are you enjoying this as much as I am, Chris?" The Morsel boldly inquired as Emmie's soft lips glided up and down his partner's pulsating shaft. "God, I've missed you, Emmie!"
The Morsel’s eyes rolled back as guttural pleasure filled him, a visible sign to Chris conveying the intensity of the orgasm about to erupt. Emmie hastily retreated, watching as The Morsel's climax sprayed his tanned skin.
Late that evening, after The Morsel had departed and Emmie succumbed to the allure of sleep, Chris found himself unable to resist the temptation to relieve himself. But before he could start stroking, he paused, savoring the exquisite pain of anticipation and the thrilling possibility that the next time, he would no longer be a mere spectator.
The following day, The Morsel texted, informing Chris of his intention to explore the island via cycling a 25-mile loop.
"I'm sure," Emmie playfully scoffed. "He's probably going to pick up some hot young man and have sex behind a tree!" Such banterous observations about other people's personal lives were a common occurrence for Emmie.
"More power to him," Chris murmured, his cock inching up in response. Has she no idea of the effect her words had on me?
Flashing a mischievous smile, Emmie countered, "You'd really like to witness that."
"In a heartbeat," Chris thought.
Emmie locked eyes with him for a moment, then trailed her hand to his shorts. "Guess I'm right. I never had any idea..."
"I'm pretty sure we never discussed that," Chris clarified, slowly following her towards the stairs.
"I could have sworn I had," Emmie quipped. Sensing the sudden disconnect, she spun around and embraced Chris, her firecracker personality undiminished.
"I'll take that..." Chris said, kissing her feverishly.
"I'll show you, baby," Emmie purred, continuing up the stairs.
"Please have me, Em..." Chris begged. "Tonight."
"Oh, really?" Emmie teased, casting off her shirt.
"Yes," he replied, "I have to make love to you, Emmie. This very instant."
"Very well," she said, backing up, beckoning him to stand.
"I can't wait any longer..." Chris declared.
"Oh, no," Emmie smirked, unbuckling her beloved partner's belt. "I believe you've earned that chance."
Their eyes locked once more as she freed him, the fire in her gaze singing through his nerves, fanning the warming desire. Years of longing, adoration, and yearning for this moment had finally come to fruition. With her undivided attention on his satisfaction, Chris was captivated by the delirious sensation of Emmie's touch.
Sensing the reunion of two hearts and souls, Chris found himself pouring his praises and adoration into a deep, sincere verbal confession. "I undeniably adore you."
As she boldly whispered, "I adore you the same, Chris" into his ears, they heatedly fell into a passionate and intimate dance, strengthening their connection.
It was intense, seeing him like that. But I knew he had a soft spot for me, deep down inside. It was a comfort, a way to keep guilt and judgment at bay.
"Of course," she replied, pushing him back. "But you don't need to explain a thing to me. I can't help but be attracted to you when you gaze at us in wonder, like a curious child seeing something new."
"I was mainly admiring you," Chris said.
"No need to hide it from me," she continued. "You make me feel so good, remember that? The Morsel has an amazing body, but he doesn't compare to you. And I still prefer yours."
She rode him hard, taking only 30 seconds for him to reach his climax.
The Morsel called Emmie afterwards.
"Wow, this humidity would be unbearable if I had to live with it every day," he mentioned. "How does Chris manage to train in this thick, sticky air?"
Together, they headed to the beach for the afternoon. Later, The Morsel insisted on paying for dinner at a trendy seafood restaurant. Not one of the fancy, old-style establishments adorned with dark-wood paneling and stern old waiters, but a more relaxed place where you could enjoy the sunset on the patio.
Emmie asked The Morsel about Nico.
"It was fantastic, until it wasn't," The Morsel answered, looking across the waterway. "It's hard to understand how two people can be perfect together for so long and then, poof, the magic disappears. It's not entirely my fault, either. But I think he just lost interest. Or maybe he was simply bored. I miss the good times, but not how things ended."
After dinner, Emmie and The Morsel dropped Chris off at his house, and they went to see one of her friends' bands. Different from Chris, her gay friend was a dancer. "He really gets into it!" Emmie exclaimed. Chris wished he could flick a switch like that, but Chris was still too embarrassed about public dancing and often felt like the awkward kid at the back of the gym with the other guys without any rhythm.
Good thing he's gay, he thought, relaxing in the jacuzzi as the sun went down. He's nice, fit, endowed, and carefree like me. No baggage...ugh...
But the woman, why? He thought with deep unease and embarrassment. She didn't suit Chris well at all. The complete opposite of Emmie. She had nearly ruined his happy relationship in exchange for temporary pleasure, unsatisfying sex, and a barrage of embarrassing texts, which Emmie stumbled across.
Chris closed his eyes and listened as the frogs chirped and an owl hooted in the nearby woods. Hot tears poured from them, but he tried to imagine Emmie with The Morsel... running away, a better, kinder man.
No, stop that! The Morsel is a great guy, but just like me, with all his flaws. She loves me, proud of me, us working hard, not everyone is...
He plunged into the hot water, then shook his long hair from side to side. After washing the troublesome thoughts away, he thought of The Morsel and Emmie on a car.
Damn, I wish! he mused, uncertain if they would be the only couple in future.
They arrived an hour and a half later, two hours earlier than expected.
"The band wasn't as exciting as I thought," she remarked, rising onto her tiptoes to kiss The Morsel's whiskered cheek and caress one of his curls.
"Let's just say the gays can't resist me," The Morsel said.
Without saying a word, he pulled Chris into a three-way hug and pecked him on the cheek.
"What the forking hell?" Emmie exclaimed, her jaw agape. "Did I just witness that?"
"What can I say?" Chris replied unworriedly. "The guys can't help being attracted to me."
Emmie chuckled. "The story is getting more interesting. How about you make us some drinks, baby?"
When Chris walked into the room, he paused momentarily at the scene in front of him. His fully clothed wife, Emmie, was on her knees with her head engulfed in The Morsel's thick dick. As Chris watched discreetly, The Morsel sat naked on the edge of the bed, one hand resting gently on the back of Emmie's head.
"This chick is in a nostalgic mood, Chris," The Morsel commented with a sly smile.
Chris chuckled, finding the whole situation oddly normal. It was as if he were watching a friend give a backrub to his wife. He imagined the reaction of the 'normal' people, the boring types who wouldn't understand.
"Come in," The Morsel encouraged, inviting Chris to join them.
Chris placed the drinks on the dresser and moved towards the bed, his heart beating rapidly, his breath coming in quick, deep breaths.
"Join your wife," The Morsel instructed, gently patting Chris on the head.
Chris hesitated, taking a moment to find the courage to participate in this unique act.
"You're good man, really. This is about love. It's all about love," The Morsel reassured him.
Emmie looked up from The Morsel's crotch, giving her husband a thumbs up while maintaining her sexy rhythm.
"Come, Chris," The Morsel said, "You should kiss your wife."
Chris hesitated, but steadied himself next to Emmie. The Morsel ran his hand through Chris's hair, sending shivers down his spine.
"It's okay. Kiss your wife," The Morsel repeated. "You're strong, Chris. You've wanted this."
Chris took a deep breath, looking into Emmie's eyes, his cock throbbing with anticipation. He didn't speak, but Emmie understood.
"Yes, my love," Emmie cooed after pulling her slightly dripping mouth off The Morsel's cock. "But you don't have to--"
"I want to." Chris spoke up suddenly, still gaping at his wife's eyes, the possessor of their shared secret.
And he did want to. Right here, right now. He reached forward to grab The Morsel's protruding package, the one he'd dreamt about for so long. A married man, playing with his wife's best friend's dick, while his wife cheered him on.
"I can't believe I'm doing this, I'm so wrong... so right..." Chris thought as he leaned down to kiss the tip of The Morsel's throbbing cock.
Emmie licked her lips and joined him, their mouths meeting halfway on The Morsel's lovely phallus.
Technically, Chris was sucking The Morsel's cock, but his focus was completely on his wife. He savored the feeling of his lover's approval and acceptance.
"Now that's a lovely sight," said The Morsel, imagining other men in his position. "Emmie, you're a real tease."
"Do you like it, hun?" Emmie asked, looking deep into Chris's eyes.
"Ung hm hng," whispered Chris, his face filled with love and lust. "I'm your cocksucker, baby."
With Emmie's encouragement, Chris became more eager and passionate in his oral act, stroking The Morsel's pole with increasing delight. The Morsel moaned and began to thrust gently. The praise sent Chris over the edge.
"Wow, Morsel, you're a lucky man," Emmie commented.
"It's okay, guys," The Morsel said, his composure beginning to slip. "Chris is quite the cocksucker."
This unexpected praise ignited a spark in Chris, sending him into cataclysmic ecstasy. His mouth was filled with The Morsel's heavenly manhood as Emmie lightly fingered his own cock.
"This is so hot, a married man giving his wife's older lover a blowjob," exclaimed The Morsel, clearly enjoying his experience.
Chris continued to worship The Morsel's throbbing dick, willing to please his beloved and experience this highly unusual pleasure. For now, he had finally reached a long-awaited milestone in their love story. He was her cocksucker and he loved it.
"Well done, Chris," The Morsel praised. "You really are her lucky man."
"Woohoo, when a man has a cock in his mouth, you know he enjoys it," The Morsel said, grunting. "Having sex for the first time, Chris, I'm gonna, uh, I'm okay, yes, here it goes... oh damn...!" He forced his cock deep into Chris' mouth and held it there until it had ceased pulsating. Chris felt very little as warm semen traveled down his throat.
"Whoa!", Emmie exclaimed, clearly taken aback. "You guys are nasty!"
Chris disentangled himself and leaned back on the bed, dazed. He saw her surprise and realised...
"That was... wow," Emmie said, and then she kissed him. "How are you doing, dear?"
Chris was confused but reassured as he observed the love in her eyes.
"I'm fine, baby. I'm fantastic," he said, responding to her kiss. "How are you? It wasn't too much, was it?"
"No, this was... incredibly sexy. I've never seen anything like it before," Emmie said, putting a finger on his lips. "Was that our first time sharing a cock?"
Chris' mind raced, recalling the sensation of The Morsel's penis in his mouth. He had adored...relishing the raw sexual appetite and forbidden thrill of it, loving having another man's dick in his mouth...with him, for Emmie. And even more arousing was that Emmie was there, witnessing it all.
The Morsel's criticising voice wasn't in his head anymore.
"Yes, baby," he said nonchalantly. "I love this."
"Aw, I don't want you to go," Emmie sighed. "We've been having such a blast."
"I'll be back," The Morsel said. "And tonight could be even better."
"I wish you lived closer," Emmie sighed. "Don't you, Chris?"
Chris reminisced about the feeling of The Morsel's member in his mouth, wrapped up in the erotic experience, the wild lust, the forbidden taboo of being a cocksucker...with his wife, for his wife. He suddenly felt an intense sense of pride and even happiness.
That wicked voice that used to taunt him was gone.
"I want you to, baby," he asserted without shaking.
The previous evening had followed a similar sequence as the first, only this time Chris gave his wife additional attention. Emmie experienced the pleasure of not just one man, but two. Chris fingered his wife while The Morsel caressed her body.
It ended with Chris fucking Emmie on her back. Her eyes followed Chris' rippling muscles as he took her slowly, enjoying the new twist to their usual routine - Chris sucking on The Morsel's mouthwatering shaft.
Finally, the final night came. Emmie lay naked face down on the bed - her favourite position - as Chris delivered the drinks. But this time, The Morsel was massaging coconut oil into her back, rubbing her between her legs.
The agony of longing and the excitement of seeing his wife with another man stretched the limits of Chris' control.
"Hi baby", Emmie murmured into her pillow. "Getting a massage."
"I see that," Chris replied hoarsely, his erection aching.
The Morsel grinned as he patted Emmie's bottom. "Let's take turns so I can give each of you full attention." Emmie grinned, turning to face Chris. Chris felt a mixture of fear and anticipation; they'd thought this out too.
But then, "Do Chris", Emmie requested, propping herself up to look at him. "I want to watch." He stripped naked and moved towards Emmie. The Morsel stepped behind Emmie to rub oil on her back.
"This might be difficult," The Morsel mused. "Shouldwe switch so I can focus on you both?" Emmie giggled, resting on one elbow. Chris held his breath as the Morsel caressed his tense buttocks.
"Please, do Chris," Emmie persisted. "I want to see him have The Morsel's cock." He had wanted to do this for so long, surrounded by love.
The Morsel nodded and began to stroke him, looking over his shoulder at Chris and Emmie.
"This may not be possible," The Morsel said, playing with Chris' buttocks. "Let's practice one at a time, okay?" Emmie giggled again. "Chris, you first."
Chris braced himself for the sudden jolt of sensations. It felt like an erotic, taboo dream come true, being a cocksucker for his wife, for his friend...and then his Morsel's hand stroked his ass. He exhaled, desperate to remain calm in the face of his overwhelming emotions.
Chris tried to unwind as The Morsel's hands glided up Chris' back, down his shoulders, and back to rest on his butt. Chris' penis throbbed underneath the weight of his own body, twitching whenever he felt his cheeks slightly stretched. The Morsel, an expert at driving men wild with anticipation, lightly brushed Chris' anus with his thumb and fingers. Chris pushed his butt towards him, craving more.
"Would you like to join us, E?" The Morsel inquired. Chris shuddered at the sound of E rubbing oil onto her hands. He pressed his ass against the gentler, softer, and feminine touch of The Morsel's fingers, a mixture of an offer and a demand.
Holding back a scream from the anticipation, Chris heard the faint rustling of The Morsel undressing and E whispering something inaudible. The sound of E fondling The Morsel's hairy shaft followed, setting Chris' mind into a frenzy. ...am I truly going to let a man fuck my butt? Oh yes, I said yes.
"I'll make it worth your time," Emmie remarked. "Both of you quite worked up, huh?"
Chris' entire body trembled as Emmie gently grasped his own shaft, providing some relief before sliding away from him.
"So handsome and throbbing," Emmie exclaimed.
With a few glances at her husband and The Morsel, Emmie guided Chris back down on all fours. She patted the pillow for his head to lay on, leaving his white buttocks exposed, waiting for whatever would come next. Chris' heart pounded when he felt a meaty, hard cock pressing against his anxious anus.
"Oh fuck," Chris whimpered, almost pressing his face into the pillow. ...let it happen, let it take me, I can handle it...
Encouraging Chris, Emmie said gently, "Just relax." The Morsel added, also soothingly, "Go slow, there's no rush."
"Are you sure? It's my first time," Chris asked nervously.
"Don't worry about it," The Morsel replied, "I've had my share of virgins. I know how to make it enjoyable."
Chris closed his eyes, trying to unwind. He focused on the pleasure beyond the discomfort, the pleasure of knowing that this was happening and he couldn't deny it. He almost screamed in ecstasy...fucking in the butt, wild and crazy. As he began to relax, The Morsel stuck his long, thick cock into Chris's ass a little farther, then withdrew before going in more.
"Oh fuck, E!" Chris cried, pushing back against The Morsel's wonderful cock. "It feels...so fucking...amazing...a goddamn beautiful thing. I hope my first time with you is just as good, baby!"
The Morsel pushed into him a little faster and harder, his cock causing Chris' pale ass to glide against his own hip bones.
"Do you like it?" Emmie asked.
"Yes, Emmie, yes, I think I like this way, way too much," Chris grunted. As The Morsel slammed his aching cock more forcefully into Chris' butt, his own stiff penis banged against his stomach.
"Doesn't he have one of the softest butts?" Emmie asked in wonder. When Chris opened his eyes, they found Emmie staring at him with desire. "What do you think? Are you getting close?"
"I hope so!" Chris gasped, feeling the sweet pleasure engulf his whole being. The Morsel's rough hands gripped Chris' hips, driving his meaty cock as far into Chris' waiting anus as he could go.
"Beautiful..." Chris sighed, matching The Morsel's tempo.
As Emmie's hand slid over his aching cock, Chris' entire body grew warmer, rapidly nearing the edge of insanity.
"Oh baby, you're close," The Morsel growled. Emmie took his hand and held it, offering moral support. "Here it comes!"
Closing his eyes, Chris groaned with intense excitement, feeding on every sensation.
"Ohmygodohmygod," Chris stammered, adding to his earlier demands. "I just want you, take me, now!"
Ears ringing from Chris' desperate pleas, The Morsel revealed his full power. As sharp, burning pain melted into overwhelming, unbridled pleasure, Chris let out a deep, animal roar while exploding with intense streams of come.
"This...is...amazing," he gasped, almost in disbelief.
At Chris' wailing, The Morsel grunted out a loud whoop, his own glorious climax in sight. "Ah! Yes!"
Curled up, Chris gave the two men a triumphant look. "I think it's my turn." Emmie and The Morsel agreed.
Chris woke up with a gentle kiss on his cheek, his face wet from Emmie's tears and a few droplets of leftover cum. "Oh my gosh, you wild thing! You let Emmie have him? I love it. She loves me... so fortunate."
"My love, we'll cherish this moment forever," Chris slurred, eyes barely open, a tired smile on his lips, like he'd just run a challenging race. "I need you to fuck me the way you did. Will you?"
"I sure will," Emmie whispered, guiding his hand toward her moist area. "But I'm not done with you yet, so listen carefully..." Chris felt himself start to harden.
"Ah, love..." The Morsel's voice echoed, sounding as if he were very distant.
