Amber's Competition

Part One

 

ONE.

 

I was riding on top of my boyfriend when I abruptly stopped at looked down at him. Since I was doing all the work, his eyes popped open. I must have ruined whatever groove he was working in, which must have disappointed him.

“Why’d you stop?” Dylan asked me.

“I want to have a baby,” I told him.

“You already have a kid,” he pointed out.

“I want another.”

“With me?”

I hesitated and teased him. “Maybe.” I rotated my hips just a bit, grinding my pussy down on his cock the way he liked. His hands were on my thighs—which are way too fat but he always claims I’m the perfect size—and he slide them slowly up to my hips and around to my too-large ass.

“Is that a good idea?” he asked. He was either trying to pull out of my pussy or his cock was shrinking and I didn’t want either of those things to happen so I leaned forward and kissed him.

“Don’t worry. You’re safe for tonight at least. I can’t get pregnant without a trip to the doctor first.”

Those were the words he wanted to hear. He gripped my ass tighter and started to thrust up into me. I sat up and arched my back, showing off my tits to him. That was the one good thing about carrying around a few extra pounds; it always went first to my butt and boobs. I wanted to have a slimmer body, but my boyfriend said he loved my body with all its curves. That’s just what a woman wants to hear sometimes.

The fact that I heard it from my husband as well didn’t hurt either.

No, I’m not one of those sluts who have a boyfriend and a husband. Well, I do have both a boyfriend and a husband, but they know about each other and they both approve. I’m in that category of that other type of slut.

I’ve been married almost eight years, I have a six year old daughter by my husband (thank you very much for asking), and I have an extraordinarily high sex drive.

Most men would be thrilled to hear their significant other say they want more and more sex. Usually it’s the woman who doesn’t want to fuck as much as the man, right? And Justin was thrilled at my high sex drive when we were starting out, but a woman can go forever and after two or three orgasms, a man is done for the night. I’m definitely a two-cock (or more) woman.

When I started fantasizing out lout to my husband about fucking other men, he was onboard with the fantasy. He was even onboard when the fantasy changed into reality which gave him the chance to see me fucking other men. It turned out he had a certain kink that he didn’t know about until we stumbled over it. Not only did Justin not mind me fucking other men, he encouraged it, as long as he could watch or as long as I told him about it afterwards.

Dylan’s thrusts up into my pussy became steadily faster. He was trying to hold me in place but I needed to move as well. “Have you said anything to Justin yet?” he asked me.

“No,” I confessed. “I want to give you the first chance.” Words became harder to form because his cock was hitting all the right spots inside me. I loved being on top, but I also loved it when my partner took control and made me cum. To be honest, he didn’t have much of a chance at the moment. I had an IUD that wasn’t going to let me get pregnant any time soon.

“Slut,” he told me.

“Uh-huh,” I agreed with him as I came with a long. Slow groan that made my entire body shake.

He came a few seconds later, filling my pussy with his seed. He wasn’t going to get me pregnant, but it felt good enough to give me another little orgasm. I love it when men cum inside me. The heat, the pulse, the thrill of sex. It’s all I need.

Unable to hold myself up any longer, I slowly collapsed on top of Dylan, letting him feel my weight. He took advantage of the situation, running his hands over my back and ass. My boobs were crushed against his chest, otherwise he would have been toying with my nipples as well.

Eventually his cock shrank away and slipped out of me. I took that as the signal to leave and I climbed off his body.

“You’re not going so soon, are you?” he asked, disappointed I was leaving.

“I want to be up for Ellie in the morning,” I told him as I slipped on the robe I kept in his bedroom.

“You could spend the night,” he said grouchily.

“I am a married woman,” I pointed out to him, flashing my wedding band, as I headed to the back door and stepped out on the patio.

The night air was cool. It was still early spring and my nipples went hard underneath my thin robe. Their outlines were obvious through the material, but I wasn’t going to be outside long. The patio stones were cold under my feet and I hurried from Dylan’s back door to mine which led into the bedroom I shared with Justin, my husband.

Don’t get the wrong idea. I wasn’t fucking the neighbor.

Justin and I bought the duplex as a money-making scheme: one place to live and one to generate income from a renter. It worked out well for a couple of different tenant until it just seemed natural to have my boyfriend move in next door. It sounds slutty I know…and it is slutty, but I can’t help that.

Still, I try to keep up appearances somewhat. Usually I sleep in the same bed with my husband. Who knows what the other neighbors think—as if I cared—or if they have any clue at all. The only reason to keep up the appearance of a nice, normal family is that’s because how I want to raise my daughter. She doesn’t need to know her mother is an ungodly slut who goes back and forth between husband and boyfriend, sometimes in the same night.

Like tonight.

Justin was already in bed asleep. I dropped my robe and slid under the sheets next to him. His body was warm and I pressed my chilled skin next to his, sucking away his body heat.

He groaned in complaint. “You’re cold,” he mumbled.

“Only my feet.” That was a lie. My nipples were rock-hard from the cold air, but they were rapidly becoming warmer. “Feel this. It’s hot.” I grabbed my husband’s hand and led it between my legs where I was still very hot and still very wet. Some of the wetness was mine, but a good portion of it was Dylan’s.

“You fucked him?” Justin was slowly waking up. It didn’t take much to get him aroused when it came to my boyfriend’s cum.

“Uh-huh.” His fingers parted my swollen labia and explored me as I ran my hand across the light hair of his chest, following his treasure trail down to his cock that was already plenty stiff. We both knew what was going to happen. “Don’t I always? And there’s a little present inside me just for you.”

I’ll never understand men and their kinks. I know mine and it just makes sense: I want to have sex with as many different men as practically possible. It’s just human nature. What I don’t understand is my husband’s need to go down on me after Dylan cums in me. I know he loves it and I’m more than happy to indulge in it, but it doesn’t make any sense to me. He literally eats Dylan’s cum out of my pussy and makes me cum in the process. There’s no immediate benefit to him other than a rock hard cock which he uses to fuck me with.

The moment Justin felt my pussy was slippery with Dylan’s cum, he was on top of me and kissing his way down to my pussy. I spread open my legs and let him go at it. Being cleaned by his tongue was easier and more pleasurable than having to go to the bathroom and use a wet towel. He did it with enthusiasm, as always, and made sure to get me off once before he progressed his way back up my body.

I gave him a kiss as his cock was trying to find its way between my swollen lips. “Hi,” I said as innocently as possible, as if it were completely normal for a wife to be fucking her husband right after she had fucked her boyfriend. Which, in my case, it was.

Justin said nothing and just moaned as he slowly buried his cock inside of me. I could taste my pussy on his lips and just a hint of Dylan’s cum. It was the gift that we all shared.

We were in missionary position, which is fine for what it is, even though I prefer to be on top. Justin was already pounding away at me and I lifted my knees, pointing them at the ceiling, to help him along. “You like fucking my used pussy?” I asked him, barely whispering in his ear.

“Yeah…” he moaned.

“You going to cum inside it? Push all of Dylan’s sperm out of me?”

“Uh-huh.” He was getting close. I could feel it. His cock was like a piece of steel inside me. A piece of hot steel that was throbbing.

“Maybe there isn’t any of his cum left in me. Maybe you ate it up already.”

That was enough for Justin. He came. Hard. I could feel each ejaculation inside me. He timed each thrust to go with each spurt. The heat, the pressure, the throbbing, it was all enough to make me cum again.

I wrapped my arms and legs around my husband and held him tight, refusing to let go as my orgasm fired through my body.

“Thank you,” I told him when I stopped gasping.

“You’re welcome,” he said with an exhausted grin.

I kissed his face and lips over and over. “Do you know what I want?” I asked.

“No. What?”

“I want another baby.”

“Okay,” he readily agreed. He was already halfway asleep. Justin didn’t ask any questions. Apparently he was happy with the woman he had married and was willing to go along with her lusty needs.

 

TWO.

 

Some things a man has a say in, some things he doesn’t. The next day I set an appointment with my doctor and by the end of the week I was IUD free. Dr. Glass said I was healthy and still young enough to have another baby without any real concern.

“Young enough?” I asked.

“Anyone above mid-thirties we automatically put into high risk pregnancy for advanced maternal age,” was the answer.

“Thanks for making me feel old.”

She laughed at me and said I had plenty of good years in front of me still.

 

Even with a boyfriend and a husband, I didn’t get to have sex as often as I wanted. The first person I had sex with after my IUD was removed was myself. Or rather, it was Bob, my battery operated boyfriend. I don’t have a huge collection of sex toys, but I do have several vibrators and my favorite is a light blue one named Bob.

I think both Justin and Dylan are jealous of him.

Bob made me cum three times in the afternoon before Ellie got home from school. I couldn’t tell the difference in sex with him, so I was fairly sure Justin and Dylan couldn’t either.

Friday nights were date nights. I always had a date. Sometimes with Justin. Sometimes with Dylan. Sometimes with both. When it was both, we stayed in. Those were the best dates.

Once Ellie was tucked into bed, I invited Dylan over to our bedroom. I hadn’t said anything yet to Justin, or Dylan, about my activities during the week. When Dylan lightly knocked on the sliding glass door, I beckoned for him to come inside. I was wearing my lacy black nightie and matching G-string (total cliché, I know, but it always worked on the both of them). Dylan wore his usual jeans and too tight t-shirt. Justin was already down to his boxers, anxious and ready to go.

I greeted Dylan with a kiss, and looked surreptitiously at Justin at the same time. His cock was tenting his boxers. Though I was teasing him, I knew I was a very lucky wife to have two handsome men who wanted me with my fat ass and too many curves. The two of them were well-built and good looking. Justin was a bit taller