The night they watched me ride him

I still remember that night like it was yesterday. The living room smelled of red wine and the faint sweetness of the perfume Jenna and Claire always wore when we got together. We had already gone through a couple of bottles by the time my husband finished the dishes. Our voices carried easily across the room.

Sex came up the way it always does once the glasses start refilling. Jenna went first, voice sharp with frustration. “Honestly, Mark and I haven’t fucked in months. Look at him. He’s let himself go so much I can’t even get wet looking at him anymore. It’s like trying to get turned on by a soft pillow with a beer gut.”

Claire snorted into her glass and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “At least you don’t have to ration it. I told David once a week and he can keep his hand to himself the rest of the time. The second I catch him jerking off in the shower I’m cutting him off completely. Last week I walked in and he still had the lotion out. I just stared at him until he put it away.”

They both laughed, loud and tipsy. Then they turned to me. I was the quiet one of the three. Always had been. Small tits, the runner’s body I worked so hard for, a neat little bush I never fully shaved because he liked the soft hair against his mouth and the way it looked when it got wet.

My face burned the second their eyes landed on me. “We still do it,” I said, voice small. “I just don’t really talk about it.”

Jenna leaned forward, eyes bright. “Come on, Jess. You’re married to that. Don’t tell me you don’t have stories.”

Claire grinned and topped up her glass. “Yeah, spill. Is he good? Does he last? We’re dying over here.”

He walked in with a fresh bottle, poured himself a glass, and dropped into the armchair across from us. The mood shifted the second he sat down. Suddenly everything felt warmer, heavier. Jenna’s eyes lingered on him a little too long. Claire kept glancing at the way my legs were crossed.

Then Jenna said it, plain as day, swirling the wine in her glass. “I want to watch.”

Claire cracked up, nearly spilling her drink down her shirt. “Yes! Show off those little tits and that runner body and suck your husband for us. Come on, Jess, don’t be boring. We’ve been talking about sex all night. Give us something real.”

He laughed. I looked at him, eyes wide, cheeks already pink. He shrugged and gave me a small smile. “I don’t care, baby. Your call.”

I hesitated just long enough for the room to go quiet except for the soft clink of glass on the coffee table. My heart was pounding so hard I could feel it in my throat. Then I stood up. My fingers trembled a little as I pulled my top over my head. My small breasts came free, pale and soft, nipples already tightening in the cool air of the living room. The faint scent of my own skin mixed with the wine.

Jenna’s mouth fell open. “Jesus, I’d kill for that stomach. Look at her. Fucking unfair. Flat and tight and she’s got that little line right down the middle.”

Claire nodded, eyes locked on my chest. “And those tits. They’re perfect. Small enough that they’d fit right in my hands. God, Jess, you’re glowing.”

My face burned hotter, but I didn’t stop. I dropped to my knees between his legs. The carpet was soft under me. My hands worked his belt open with a quiet metallic rasp. He was already half-hard just from the way they were watching me. I pulled him out and wrapped my lips around the head, slow at first, shy even with an audience. The thick heat of him filled my mouth. I could feel the soft scrape of my tongue, the gentle pressure of my lips sliding down. Every wet sound seemed louder because they were right there, staring.

Jenna leaned so far forward her elbows were on her knees. “Deeper, Jess. God, look at her taking it. She’s actually doing it.”

Claire’s voice was husky. “Your husband is so hard for you right now. Look at the way his hand is in her hair. That’s hot as hell.”

I kept going, cheeks hollowed, trying not to think about how exposed I was. Then he tugged gently at my hair. “Come here. Sit on my lap.”

They both laughed and poured more wine, the bottle glugging softly. I stood, shimmied my jeans and panties down my legs. The fabric whispered against my skin. I climbed onto him. He turned me so I faced them, legs spread over his, his cock sliding up against the soft lips of my pussy. My little bush tickled his shaft, already damp. I was wet. I could feel the heat of him, the slickness when he lined up and pushed in slow. My breath hitched as I sank down, taking him inch by inch until he was buried inside me.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” Claire said, voice low. “You look so fucking hot like this. Your face is all flushed and your tits are bouncing every time you move.”

Jenna bit her lip. “Yeah, Jess. Keep going. We can see everything.”

He held my hips and started moving me, lifting and dropping me on his cock while they watched every inch disappear into me. My small tits bounced with every thrust. The wet slap of our bodies mixed with my soft whimpers. He reached around and cupped them, thumbs brushing the hard nipples. They felt warm and soft in his palms.

“Look at how perfectly they fit in my hands,” he told the girls, squeezing gently. I whimpered, head falling back against his shoulder. My pussy clenched around him, tight and slick.

I could see their faces clearly. Jenna’s eyes wide, Claire leaning in with that half-smile. They weren’t touching themselves. They weren’t getting off. They were just watching, like I was a show put on for their entertainment. That thought made my cheeks burn hotter even as the pleasure built. I was the shy one. The quiet one. And here I was, riding my husband while they stared at every private part of me.

Jenna’s eyes went wide. “Oh fuck. Look, she’s coming. Her whole body just locked up.”

Claire laughed, almost breathless. “Keep going. Don’t stop. She’s shaking.”

I came with a soft, broken moan, walls pulsing around his cock. The orgasm hit hard, rolling through me while their eyes stayed fixed on us. He kept thrusting through it, hands still full of my little tits, feeling the way my nipples stayed hard under his thumbs. The girls were cheering now, laughing, telling him not to stop.

“Finish in her!” Claire yelled, grinning. “Come on, fill her up. We want to see it.”

Jenna raised her glass. “Yeah, do it. Make her take it.”

A few more hard thrusts and he buried himself deep, grunting as he came, flooding me. The heat of it, the way his cock pulsed inside me, the soft wet sound as he kept moving through the last pulses. I shuddered through the end of it, feeling his cum already starting to leak out around him as he softened inside me. That intimate moment, the one that usually belonged only to us, was happening while they watched. Like it was entertainment. Like I was the show.

I climbed off carefully. His cum dripped down the inside of my thigh in a slow, shiny trail as I walked naked toward the bathroom. The soft pad of my bare feet on the floor was the only sound for a second.

Jenna called after me, laughing. “It’s not a walk of shame when he’s your husband.”

In the bathroom I cleaned up, wiping the sticky warmth from between my legs, still feeling the echo of him inside me and the weight of their eyes. My face was still flushed in the mirror. When I came back out in a T-shirt and leggings, hair a little messy, I sat down beside him and curled into his side. He put an arm around me. I smiled, small and shy, but real.

Claire leaned back, still watching us. “That’s the best sex I’ve had in a long time. And I wasn’t even the one getting fucked.”

Jenna raised her glass one more time and smirked. “I think my husband is getting sex tonight.”