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"My turn." The voice of the strange man in front of me was deep and thick with arousal, reminding me of his presence and of my role. At my husband's command, the two of them had made a sandwich out of me. They were the bread, and I was the meat.
Like the others before him, this man was tall and good-looking. He sat facing me, naked and beautiful, perched on the edge of my glass dining table, and for the life of me I could not remember his name. My hands left prints on either side of his muscled thighs, and I watched as he stroked himself, then took my submissive fingers and guided them around his shaft.
This just can't be normal. . My husband's hands were no longer on my hips. Caressing my shoulders, he urged me into a slight bend, then pushed downward on the back of my head. I knew what he wanted and as usual I obeyed. With my lips wet and wide, I took the strange man into my mouth and raised and lowered my head to the same beat that was being pounded out behind me.
The sex was raw and primal. Two penises. Two tongues. Four hands. Nasty Fancy. The sounds and smells were incredible. Freak Nasty Fancy. I felt my clitoris clenching, my orgasm rising even as the shame of it hammered away at my heart.