Free Open Marriage Open House by Polly Vann Page A

wanted this. Badly.
    “Young cocks, you see ... they’re starved . They want to cum so badly. A young man, he couldn’t
last against you. He couldn’t last many strokes ...”
    “Oh god, that’s so sexy,” she gasped,
straining to keep quiet. “Oh god, so close ...”
    “I want you to have them.” Charles’s strokes
became desperate. “I want you to have them both. Two men. Two new
cocks ...”
    “New cocks ...” Eloria was lost to the
sensation, lost to the fantasy. In that moment, given the chance,
she would take them, open her soft legs to them, both of them,
without question. During the workday, as a mom, as a wife, as a
real estate agent, these possibilities were miles away. But with
orgasm beginning to flutter and pull deep in her belly, she would
take man after man, cock after cock, without hesitation.
    “Two new cocks, on the same day. I want you
to fuck them, fuck them both, and then come home and fuck
me.”
    That sent her over. As she froze in pleasure
and her pussy began to spasm, Charles whispered:
    “Three cocks ... in one day ...”
    Her spasming redoubled at his words, and he
answered her pleasure by filling her with jets of warm cum. Even
during his orgasm, he managed to push away and open his eyes to
look at her face, locked in minute-long ecstasy. He loved her,
deeply, and the thought of another man — other men — having
her, didn’t, right now, faze him in the least. He would do anything to see that look on her face, to make her cum that
hard.
    As the pleasure subsided, the lovers fell
together as husband and wife, cuddling contentedly deep in their
sheets.
    “You did a lousy job of being quiet,” he
goaded. “But I don’t think Gabriel heard.”
    She giggled in response. “You ... you make it
hard!”
    He smiled and pulled her tight.

TWO
    Jack gave the sincere white-toothed grin with
which always he greeted Eloria’s arrival, standing from the small
cafe table he’d taken at Beehive Coffee. She dropped her bag and
folded herself against his hard runner’s torso, into one of the
little-too-long hugs she craved before and after their
meetings.
    “Don’t you look lovely,” came his voice, like
honey in her ear, complementing her simple outfit of a V-neck
blouse and knee-length skirt. The conservative dress, selected to
please the high-end clients she was meeting later in the afternoon,
was a departure from the jeans and slightly revealing top she
typically pulled over her curvy form for her meetings with
Jack.
    “Mmmm ...” she replied. “It’s been too
long!”
    “What, two weeks?”
    She answered with a sparkling eye as she
sat.
    “What’re you having?” he asked, his white
hair a shining contrast to his tan skin and black, form-fitting
tee.
    “Cappuccino. Wet.”
    “I knew that,” he grinned. “Be right
back.”
    She watched the roll of his understated jeans
as he walked, squirming a bit in her chair as he turned the corner,
and enjoyed a hint of a smile.
    Her coffee meetings with Jack always
recharged her batteries. A father of two kids in Gabriel’s school,
they had met working a school spirit-tee sale three years ago, and
had been having coffee semi-regularly for nearly a year.
    She’d never cared much for his wife, Sally,
but then again, Jack didn’t seem to, either. Cold and aloof, she
was a stark contrast to Jack’s open and vivacious everyman’s
spirit. While it was clear Shelly came from significant family
money, you’d never know the kind of wealth Jack had married into
simply by looking at him.
    Jack and Sally had met nearly three decades
ago, when their youth and passion were as tinder and spark. He
dearly loved her then, and did still, really; but whereas wealth
had for him opened access to the arts, philosophy, travel, and
philanthropy, to Sally, it meant a descent into self-focus, plastic
surgery and an endless parade of ‘healing’ and ‘wellness’
workshops. Today, their marriage was convenient and businesslike,
possessing nowhere near