5 - The Waiting Game #4
His tongue returned to her clit, circling slowly at first, then more insistently.
Something inside him had clicked open—an eagerness deeper than hunger, something closer to a need to prove his devotion through every swirl, every trembling kiss.
Her hands found the sides of his head and held him there, fingers threading through his hair, controlling the angle, the pressure, the pace.
Dana was in full command, and both men were caught in her gravity.
Ben groaned, the sound muffled into the slick heat of her folds, a vibration that made her gasp again.
He let the tip of his tongue dip lower, teasing the underside of Aiden’s cock as it withdrew and pressed back in, each thrust slow and deliberate.
The sensation was obscene and electric—a dark fusion of jealousy and awe and arousal that turned his insides to liquid.
He couldn’t stop. Wouldn’t.
The room was thick with scent and heat and the slapping sound of skin against skin.
Ben’s tongue flicked, lapped, and tasted both of them—the slick salt of Dana’s arousal, the masculine musk of Aiden’s shaft each time it surged forward into her depths.
He didn’t need to see the expressions on their faces to know how deeply they were enjoying themselves.
The sounds—her breathless sighs, Aiden’s low grunts—were more than enough.
His own cock throbbed between his legs, leaking into his hand. He stroked slowly, cautiously, terrified of going too far, too soon.
When Dana shifted—leaning forward, her body rocking now in a rolling rhythm instead of bouncing—Ben had to stop, gasping as his wife’s mouth suddenly closed around the head of his cock.
Her eyes locked with his, smoldering, her movements unhurried and purposeful.
She sucked lazily, like she was teasing a lollipop, all heat and no urgency.
Her fingers massaged his balls, rolling them gently in her palm. A practiced motion, intimate and coolly possessive.
Ben whimpered, his hips twitching despite himself.
She didn’t want him to come. That much was clear. And even though his cock pulsed with each suck, Dana’s pace remained languid, more about control than stimulation. The look in her eyes said everything—she wanted him hovering there, desperate, aching, a moment from release but forever denied.
“Ahh, ahh…” he breathed, his thumb brushing her cheek in a silent plea.
But she didn’t let up.
Across the room, Aiden’s jaw tightened. His hands gripped Dana’s hips with renewed urgency. His thumb slid down and pressed against her asshole, the sudden pressure making her jolt with a gasp.
“You naughty little—” she began, laughing breathlessly, but her words cut off into a groan as she shifted her hips, rotating her pelvis with deliberate precision.
Her control hadn’t faltered—it had deepened.
She guided him now, tilting her angle to let him feel the full squeeze of her passage with every thrust.
Her hands rose to her chest, cupping her own breasts, squeezing them in time with her movements.
She arched, pushing them forward, and let the soft jiggle of her tits fuel the rhythm.
Her body was electric, every muscle fluid and responsive.
She was riding him now with wild intent, eyes half-lidded, lips parted in a breathy moan.
“Nnnnh, come on, Aiden, cum for me, baby,” she whispered, voice dripping with satisfaction.
She tilted her head to kiss beneath his jaw, fingers curling behind his neck. Aiden’s grip on her hips tightened, his pace increasing until his thrusts were hammering upward, hard and deep.
“Leave my husband a nice little mess.”
“Hnngh, nothing little about it,” he growled, thrusting so hard he nearly lifted her off the bed.
Ben watched it all—his eyes wide, his hand limp at his side, his own cock still throbbing, denied. The last thing he felt was Dana’s tongue flicking the tip before she pulled back. Now he sat, panting, mouth damp from her sex, lips swollen with the effort.
Aiden’s groan was guttural, deep, the kind of sound that came from the bottom of the spine.
His cock buried to the hilt, he let go—his whole body tensing as he emptied into her.
Dana’s own body seemed to glow with it, her fingers sliding down to trace her soaked slit, spreading the warm slick of Aiden’s cum across her lips with idle satisfaction.
She giggled, lazy and lovely, and reached down to tap Aiden’s thigh as if to say, good boy.
And then she turned her attention to Ben.
Her eyes met his—hungry, amused—and she curled her finger at him in a come-hither motion.
The rest of the room fell away. Aiden collapsed back against the pillows, chest rising and falling with exhaustion, his cock still twitching from the aftershocks.
But Dana didn’t care. She was already moving toward her husband, hips swaying as she walked, her body still flushed and glistening.
“Hmmm… Now for you…”
Her voice was velvet. And Ben—still kneeling, still trembling—came forward like the supplicant he was, aching for the touch of the woman who had already given him more than he could handle, and still not nearly enough.
There had been a time when Ben viewed men like Aiden with bitter suspicion.
That raw contrast—their strength, their ease, their unshakable confidence—had felt like a personal slight.
But that resentment had softened, eroded by exposure and repetition, and replaced with something closer to reverence.
Watching now, as Aiden’s cock began to soften in the aftermath of another forceful climax, Ben’s expression held no malice.
Only a faint, dazed awe. He himself had never managed two rounds in a row.
Not without long recovery, not without losing that edge.
The sheer volume of Aiden’s orgasm—its mess, its weight—left Ben quietly breathless.
He could only imagine how slick Dana’s cunt must be, how soaked she was with her lover’s seed.
And he would find out, soon. She’d promised as much.
He edged forward across the sheets, his knees sinking into the mattress as he approached, a humble supplicant. Dana reclined beside Aiden like a queen, one hand still absently stroking her lover’s chest while the other beckoned Ben closer.
“Okay, okay,” she murmured, voice light but commanding, a grin touching her lips.
“Time to uphold my end of the deal, right?” She reached for him, grasping him by the shoulders as he loomed over her.
The air between them shimmered with need.
He was already there—already hard, already pushing against her slick heat.