5 - The Waiting Game #2
His hands were practiced, confident. One dipped beneath her thigh and lifted her leg smoothly up and over his hip, the other bracing himself as he shifted his weight over her body.
He kissed along the line of her collarbone, teeth teasing the lace of her shelf bra.
His fingers unhooked the clasp at her back in a single motion.
No fumbling. Just precision. The garment gave way with a quiet snap and fell away, revealing her breasts, flushed and perfectly proportioned.
Ben stroked himself faster, precum beading at his tip.
This was the part he liked—watching her be unwrapped like a gift.
Not to him, of course, but still. He could pretend.
Aiden’s mouth was on her nipple now, his tongue circling, teeth grazing. One hand kneaded her breast while the other drifted lower, stroking the damp fabric between her legs. When Dana reached down to tug the panties aside, she didn’t bother removing them—just bared what mattered.
Aiden’s cock was fully hard now, thick and heavy, the head swollen and eager.
He pressed it against Dana’s slit, grinding slowly up and down, not entering, just teasing.
Drawing it out. Driving her mad. And Ben, by extension.
With each pass, her hips bucked upward, chasing the head of his cock like a magnet.
He dipped a finger inside her, just one, then two, curling them to test her depth.
She gasped, and Aiden grinned. He was always in control, even when she tried to take the reins.
He lowered his mouth again, this time starting at her breast, then tracing a slow, deliberate path down her belly.
His tongue flicked at her navel. His teeth grazed the soft skin of her lower abdomen.
He paused at the top of her mound, hands parting her thighs like opening pages of a long-awaited book.
Ben’s cock twitched. He was breathing hard now, stroking in time with Aiden’s descent.
“Ready, baby?” Aiden asked, cocky and unbothered.
Dana nodded, and Aiden went to work.
His tongue parted her folds with slow confidence, the long stroke ending just below the hood of her clit.
Then he did it again. And again. The rhythm was languid, patient, perfectly designed to drive her to the edge without letting her fall.
Meanwhile, his middle finger slipped back inside her, this time to the hilt, curling and pulsing within her warmth.
Ben moaned softly. He was already close. Closer than he wanted to admit. Watching Aiden eat his wife like it was nothing, like it was his right, sent something dark and needy spiraling down through his belly. He wanted to hate it. But instead, he whispered her name.
Dana didn’t hear him. She was too far gone.
And Ben? He was right where she wanted him.
Compared to others who had taken up this particular role in Dana’s little theater, Aiden’s performance was admirable.
But her pleasure wasn’t the true goal tonight.
Of course, Dana did enjoy the attention.
But this evening was first and foremost about something else: the sight of Ben, her husband, sitting obediently and needfully nearby, twitching and burning with hunger.
And she loved it. Loved watching the tension pull across his features like storm clouds across a pale, blue sky—his jaw tight behind the soft scruff that always came in around day five, his brow set with the burden of a full month’s desire.
Their eyes met, and she held him there just long enough.
Then she arched into Aiden’s mouth, her fingers threading deep into his hair, and the moment passed.
This was going to be a delightful evening. That much was already guaranteed. But she’d take her own pleasure first.
Minutes passed. Dana lay back and let Aiden’s tongue do its slow, methodical dance, tracing familiar shapes across her inner folds with that patient, practiced flick.
His thumb made lazy circles around her clit—gentle, confident, maddening.
A sudden jolt ran through her thighs, and her hips jerked up in approval, shoving his mouth more firmly against her sex.
“Another finger, Aiden,” she said, breath short but clear, lifting herself on one elbow to look down with imperious expectation.
He didn’t make her ask twice. His index slipped in to join the middle, her body parting eagerly for him, and Dana moaned in long, spiraled pleasure. “Nnnh… Ben,” she called, gaze never leaving Aiden’s bowed head. “Come over here. And hands to yourself. I’m not spoiling you just yet.”
Ben obeyed. Of course he did.
He crossed the room with careful, measured steps, his face already flushed, the telltale signs of arousal heavy across his body—chest rising, cock bobbing stiff and unattended beneath the trail of dark hair from sternum to groin.
He took a seat beside Dana’s reclining form, placing himself neatly within the tableau she had curated.
He could hear the wet sounds of Aiden’s mouth working at her cunt, the lewd, unmistakable rhythm of lips and tongue at play.
It was maddening and arousing in equal measure. Dana’s toes curled.
She bit her lip and shivered—a full-body quake that pulled through her like a wave.
One of her hands left Aiden’s head to snake toward Ben, fingers wrapping around his shaft with studied ease.
She stroked him slowly, deliberately, more to enjoy the tension in his body than to offer any real relief.
Her touch was featherlight, not generous, and it wasn’t meant to be.
She smiled at how hard he tried to remain stoic.
His knuckles whitened around the edge of the bed, his eyes squeezed shut in some trembling effort to retreat into himself and not break.
Dana leaned in and drew her tongue in a slow circle around the tip of his cock, teasing out another gleaming bead of precum.
She lapped it up with a pleased little hum, then leaned back and giggled softly.
Ben’s eyes shot open, startled by the sound, and found hers waiting. That same half-lidded intensity. That look that undid him. For a moment they were locked in silence, her hand still curled around his cock. Then she pushed him gently in the chest, dismissing him like a well-trained servant.
“Come on, Aiden,” she said, her attention shifting. “Doggy. Now.”
She didn’t wait to see if he moved. Dana rose from the bed with feline grace and dropped to her hands and knees on the floor, back arched, legs parted, ass upturned like a flag of surrender.
Or conquest. She looked back over her shoulder as Aiden approached, his cock thick and ready, and her body gave a slow, teasing sway. Her smile was pure mischief.
“You really landed a prize, man,” Aiden said as he crouched behind her.
He gave Ben a nod—acknowledging him like you might a doorman.
His hands gripped Dana’s hips, powerful and sure.
Her body tensed with anticipation. The first brush of his cock against her lower lips made her inhale sharply.
No fumbling, no teasing. Just pressure. Intention. And then he was inside her.
A breathless gasp tore out of her, her fingers digging into the carpet as her body stretched to accommodate him. She looked into her husband’s eyes “You’ll get your chance, but you don’t get dessert until you’ve earned it.”
Aiden groaned, pulling back until only the thick head remained within her, then slammed forward again, hips slapping against her ass with a sharp clap. Dana’s body jolted from the force, ass rippling under the impact before settling again, ready for more.
Ben, for his part, still kept his hands obediently away from himself, but his body was betraying him.
His hips twitched. His legs trembled slightly, cock twitching untouched in the humid space between them.
Every thrust Aiden delivered to his wife was a visual echo of the sensations Ben remembered so clearly—the soft give of her inner walls, the moist heat, the subtle flexing grip that always seemed to draw him deeper.
A month and change had passed since he’d last been inside her, and the memory now played cruel tricks on his senses.
Watching her cunt part around another man’s cock, her body welcoming and grasping at it, stirred something sharp and strange in his chest.
And then the pace changed.
Aiden began to fuck her with renewed force, each thrust a piston stroke that seemed to rattle the very frame of her.
Dana moaned louder now, nails scrabbling at the carpet, her ass pushing back eagerly against him with every plunge.
Ben knew. He knew what that rhythm meant.
This wasn’t just about her own pleasure anymore.
Aiden was going to finish. The realization came with a strange, bitter clarity.
His reward—whatever it might be—would come after.
After this man. After he had emptied himself into her, claimed her with that groan and rush of heat.
Ben’s cock throbbed with the image. With the inevitability of it.
He nearly reached for himself. Almost. But Dana caught him. Her giggle, low and knowing, preceded her hand as she reached over and took his wrist in a firm grip.
Not yet.
“Not yet, or you’ll ruin your reward,” Dana murmured with syrupy authority, gripping Ben’s wrist in a firm clasp and anchoring him in place.
Her eyes sparkled as her body rocked with Aiden’s thrusts, short-cut hair bouncing with each impact, her hips snapping back to meet his cock in a greedy rhythm.
Every bounce of her backside was a wordless protest against stillness—she didn’t want him gentle.
She wanted him deep. Hard. Her movements weren’t simply reactive; they were ravenous.