The doorbell rang. I peeked out the window and saw an unfamiliar white van parked outside. A rental. It was ‘LancasterDan64’, the eBay user who had won the auction for a wardrobe we had been trying to sell. He told me he’d be here for it at 11am, depending on traffic, and here he was, right on time.

I answered the door to him, immediately offering him a handshake and a ‘hello!’ before beckoning him inside. I was just grateful he had agreed to help me manoeuvre the wardrobe downstairs and out of my house, let alone that he was going to pay for the privilege. The thing was too heavy and cumbersome for me to manage on my own, and although Ellen had offered to help, I think she was overestimating her strength. Luckily, Dan (I’m assuming that’s his name, his eBay handle wasn’t particularly cryptic) had offered to help me move the wardrobe when he arrived to pick it up, and despite his 51 or so years (I’m assuming the 64 in his username referred to his year of birth) he didn’t look like he was lacking in strength.

After the usual small talk (traffic, weather, sports) I took him upstairs and showed him to his new acquisition – one solid oak, brass handled wardrobe. They didn’t make them like this any more. After a brief inspection, he agreed to the purchase, and we set about trying to shift it.

We hadn’t made much progress when Ellen popped her head around the door and asked how we were getting on. “We’re getting there,” I said, as Dan and I both set the wardrobe back down on the floor simultaneously. “Oh, this is my wife, Ellen,” I said to Dan. Ellen took a step into the room and shook Dan’s hand, thanking him for buying the wardrobe, but also for just helping to shift it. The two of them chit-chatted politely about the wardrobe, whilst I, less adept at social niceties, busied myself pretending to be figuring out the next steps in our furniture removal strategy.

Ellen, on the other hand, excelled at this sort of thing. Within 30 seconds of learning somebody’s name she could be totally at ease with them, talking to them as though they were lifelong friends. I loved that about her. Being with her made up for my dearth of any willingness or ability to develop anything other than the bare minimum rapport with strangers. I watched her as she spoke to him, genuinely interested in the things he said to her, and began to think (as I think most men are guilty of) about how she reflected upon me.

She always looked good, of that I had no doubt but today she looked particularly beautiful: Ellen stands at about five feet and four inches tall when she is barefoot, and to look at her petite frame you’d be hard pressed to believe she wears a size 12. She’s blessed with rather large breasts (34FF) and a big, round, bum which adds up to a figure that a lot of women would kill to have. Today she was wearing some skinny black jeans, a white vest, and a pale denim shirt which hung open. Her hair, shoulder length and auburn with a blond ombré which was normally straightened to within an inch of it’s life was today a little tangled and unruly. Her make up, minimal as usual, was perfect, and her soft, pretty face positively glowed as she smiled and laughed along with whatever it was Dan was talking about. And more than this, despite her her short stature, she filled the room – her movements, simultaneously gentle and chaotic; her laugh; her smile; her warmth. Ellen’s presence was unmissable.

‘Yes,’ I thought to myself, ‘I’m doing pretty well’. That is to say that if I was being judged based on my partner’s physical appearance then I think I’m doing ok. I looked from Ellen to Dan, who was stood there clearly mesmerised by my wife. I absent mindedly cast my eyes over him. He’s about 6 feet tall, carrying a few extra pounds, but certainly not overweight. He has a tan, the sort you get from spending a lot of time outdoors but he doesn’t have the look of a builder or gardener, nor somebody who travels abroad a lot, so my guess is that he is retired and just has a lot of time to stand around on golf courses, or fishing. His sunkissed-colour puts him in stark contrast to Ellen, almost ghostly with her alabaster skin.

My eyes flick between the two of them. I offer the occasional “mhmm,” or “yeah,” whilst they talk. My eyes settle on Ellen and I notice her looking at me out the corner of her eye as she is mid-sentence with Dan. There was a momentary twitch in her facial expression as she sees that I have seen her looking, and in that moment, we share a thought. At first I try to pretend I don’t know what she (we) are thinking, but the truth is that I do know – my heart starts pounding a little bit faster. Ellen’s eyes move back towards Dan, her facial muscles resuming their correct, normal-conversation configuration and she continues making polite chit-chat.

Several months previously, in an uncharacteristically forthright conversation about sex, I had admitted to Ellen that it turns me on to imagine her with other men. This admission hadn’t come freely from me. No, it had been wrung from me with great difficulty on Ellen’s part, and great embarrassment on my own. Ellen and I didn’t often talk about sex – we didn’t need to, it was just something we did, which didn’t require much collusion or planning – but on that occasion, fuelled by 2 bottles of wine and the November edition of Cosmopolitan magazine, we broke our silence. I’d stuttered and mumbled my way through a patchy explanation of how sometimes, in certain circumstances, with the correct alignment of the stars, and with an impossible guarantee of no undesirable consequences, I enjoyed imagining her flirting, kissing, and even having sex with other men. Red faced and flustered, I went to great lengths to explain how this wasn’t an indication of any dissatisfaction on my part, and how I thought that this didn’t undermine our relationship, or our love for one another in any way.

At the time my admission had been met with bewilderment, confusion, and tense silence, and I was grateful that she’d not brought the subject up again. Instead we’d resumed our usual routine of ‘do it, enjoy it, and don’t talk about it’. I assumed that enough time had passed that, along with the Cosmopolitan magazine and the bottles of wine, the topic had been consigned to landfill. But that twitch in her face as we shared a fraction of a second of eye contact told me that she hadn’t forgotten. Bottles and magazines didn’t go to landfill, they just get recycled into something new.

Dan and Ellen continued chatting as I looked on. I tried to behave naturally, to continue chipping in to the conversation with my ‘mhmm’s and ‘yeah’s but my throat was dry, and my heart beat was pounding in my ears. There was an almost imperceptible change in Ellen’s posture and movements: she’d inched a little closer to Dan, impinging slightly on his personal space; she pushed her chest a little further out, letting her unbuttoned shirt fall open even more; as she laughed at Dan’s jokes she reached out and slapped his chest playfully.

I don’t know if Dan had also sensed a change in Ellen’s behaviour towards him, but the way he shuffled awkwardly on his feet as she casually picked at her bra strap made me think he had. I can only imagine that he must have felt quite uncomfortable at that moment, trying to figure out the correct interpretation of Ellen’s increasingly unambiguous flirting. Ellen must have known she had him on the back foot when she made her move – she reached out and took Dan’s hand in hers, and placed it on her breast. The tension in Dan’s body was almost audible and as his hand made contact with Ellen’s vest, he flinched and tried to draw his arm back, his eyes darting over to me looking for help (or permission?) and his mouth hanging open, words failing him.

I couldn’t have intervened to help him at this point even if I’d wanted to. My mouth was bone dry, and my body was tingling with… fear? Excitement? I don’t know, but as Ellen tightened her grip on his wrist, and prevented him from pulling his hand off her chest, my heart began to flutter and skip. Dan looked away from me, and focused his attention on Ellen who was massaging her chest against his hand, pushing her boobs into his increasingly receptive hand.

Ellen moved forward and stretch up on her tiptoes, and pressed her mouth against Dan’s. He wasn’t expecting her, and so his mouth hung slightly open, as she kissed him, gently at first, and then deeper, her tongue slipping between his lips. After a few awkward seconds Dan managed to snap out of his trance and he began kissing Ellen back, hungrily, and without any hint of self consciousness. His right hand remained firmly pressed to Ellen’s chest where it groped feverishly at her breasts though her vest and bra. The other hand found it’s way to her waist, where it lingered cautiously, awaiting permission to explore elsewhere.

Then, for the first time, I sense uncertainty on Ellen’s part. Her eyes opened, and she looked me dead in the eye as her mouth opened and closed enthusiastically against Dan’s. I can’t even imagine how I must have looked to Ellen in that moment, but whatever she saw in my face quelled any doubts she had. He eyes closed and she continued kissing Dan, he hands now dragging his on a tour of her body. She guided his hands over every curve and contour of her breasts, hips, and bum. Dan didn’t require much encouragement as his hands began exploring.

Ellen’s own hands began to busy themselves at Dan’s belt buckle, working it undone as she had done to my own on countless occasions.His belt hung open and Ellen’s fingers began to tug at his waistband. She found the button of his jeans and adeptly unfastened it, and slid the zipper down, allowing his jeans to fall open slightly. I felt the faintest hint of a lump in my throat as I saw his boxer shorts, stretched tight by his cock. Ellen giggled a little as she pulled his jeans open further, revealing more of the bulge in his underwear. He shifted his hips from side to side as Ellen eased his jeans down his thighs, letting them reach his knees. I began to feel dizzy and light headed as he hands traced back up his thighs, all the way to his growing bulge.

Her hand came to rest on the bulge in his boxers, her finger tips tracing the silhouette of his shaft and balls.Ellen’s mouth contorted into a big smile as she carried on kissing him, her hand massaging his cock through his boxer shorts. Meanwhile Dan’s hands, in their increasingly uninhibited tour of her chest, and knocked her shirt off her shoulders, so it just hung from her elbows. Dropping her arms to her sides one by one, Ellen let the shirt fall down to the floor, leaving her torso covered just by her vest and bra. Dan then took the lead in pulling the shoulder straps of her bra and vest down her shoulders. Ellen responded by working her arms completely out of the straps.

I don’t know how long I’d been watching them. It didn’t even feel real. I’d have pinched myself to check I wasn’t dreaming, but by this point my whole body was tingling and I felt like if I moved a single inch then I might lose all control. Dan’s hands were now on Ellen’s bum, and her arms reaching up, wrapped around his neck. Her torso rubbed against his as they kissed, passionately and noisily. Her vest and bra were losing the battle against friction and gravity and her boobs tumbled out. They were big, at size 34FF, and in my opinion they had just the perfect amount of sag to them. They hung over the bump formed by her bra and vest bunched up together, and as her body grinded against Dan’s her boobs moved as if independent from her body.

Dan’s hard cock had meanwhile burst loose from his boxer shorts. I couldn’t help but notice that he was a little bit smaller than me, with a thick bush of pubes. His hard shaft pressed against Ellen’s abdomen and left a tiny wet patch of precum on her vest. He pushed his hips forcefully against her, whilst his hands pulled her tight to him.

Finally Ellen broke away from him. He stood there, mouth ajar, blinking morosely with his jeans around his ankles. Ellen pushed him backwards and he sat on the edge of our bed. She hooked her fingers around the waist band of his boxer shorts and pulled them down. She turned to face me, her face flushed and red, her hair tangled and dishevelled. Her boobs spilled out of the top of her vest and bra. She looked me dead in the eye as she bent slightly, and pulled her leggings and panties down in one quick move. She stood upright again, and stepped out of the tangled mess of her leggings. Her pussy was immaculately shaved, except for a patch of wispy brown hair just at the top. She parted her legs slightly, and reached her hand between them. The room was silent, except for the sound of her fingers teasing the lips of her audibly drenched pussy.

She turned away from me, and stretched out a glistening, wet hand and began toying with the head of Dan’s cock. The mixture of her juice, with his pre cum soon had his cock glistening and wet. Unhesitatingly, she climbed on and straddled his lap, her hand reaching behind to guide the tip of his penis towards her dripping wet opening. She worked his head against her pussy, letting it slide in an inch or so before pausing.

My heart beat was deafening in my ears, my head span and I felt unsteady on my feet but in my head I urged her on. Dan lay back on the bed and Ellen lowered herself further down his shaft until he was all the way in. Dan’s hips wiggled up and down in the little space he had between the bed and Ellen’s thighs. Ellen leaned forward, letting her tits hang down onto Dan’s face. She began rocking back and forward, sliding up and down Dan’s cock. Dan strained his neck as his mouth hung open letting Ellen’s breasts smother his face, his tongue and mouth greedly lapping at whatever they could reach.

He must only have been inside her for 40 seconds when I began to moan and groan, his legs shaking, and fingers tightening, digging into her hips as he came. Ellen’s movements slowed as Dan emptied his load into her. She leant forward and kissed him softly for a minute or two. He lay there helplessly, trapped beneath her. His cock was still inside her, but it was gradually becoming softer.

Ellen climbed off Dan, and bent down to scoop up her clothes. A trickle of cum snaked its way down her thigh. Ellen took my hand and kissed me briefly, a peck on the lips, before giggling and skipping off out the room. As if a spell had been broken, I regained the use of my limbs, and brain, and remembered the task at hand. Dan dressed himself, sheepishly, and joined me over by the wardrobe.

---

The doorbell rang. I peeked out the window and saw an unfamiliar white van parked outside. A rental. It was ‘LancasterDan64’, the eBay user who had won the auction for a wardrobe we had been trying to sell. He told me he’d be here for it at 11am, depending on traffic, and here he was, right on time.

I answered the door to him, immediately offering him a handshake and a ‘hello!’ before beckoning him inside. I was just grateful he had agreed to help me manoeuvre the wardrobe downstairs and out of my house, let alone that he was going to pay for the privilege. The thing was too heavy and cumbersome for me to manage on my own, and although Ellen had offered to help, I think she was overestimating her strength. Luckily, Dan (I’m assuming that’s his name, his eBay handle wasn’t particularly cryptic) had offered to help me move the wardrobe when he arrived to pick it up, and despite his 51 or so years (I’m assuming the 64 in his username referred to his year of birth) he didn’t look like he was lacking in strength.

After the usual small talk (traffic, weather, sports) I took him upstairs and showed him to his new acquisition – one solid oak, brass handled wardrobe. They didn’t make them like this any more. After a brief inspection, he agreed to the purchase, and we set about trying to shift it.

We hadn’t made much progress when Ellen popped her head around the door and asked how we were getting on. “We’re getting there,” I said, as Dan and I both set the wardrobe back down on the floor simultaneously. “Oh, this is my wife, Ellen,” I said to Dan. Ellen took a step into the room and shook Dan’s hand, thanking him for buying the wardrobe, but also for just helping to shift it. The two of them chit-chatted politely about the wardrobe, whilst I, less adept at social niceties, busied myself pretending to be figuring out the next steps in our furniture removal strategy.

Ellen, on the other hand, excelled at this sort of thing. Within 30 seconds of learning somebody’s name she could be totally at ease with them, talking to them as though they were lifelong friends. I loved that about her. Being with her made up for my dearth of any willingness or ability to develop anything other than the bare minimum rapport with strangers. I watched her as she spoke to him, genuinely interested in the things he said to her, and began to think (as I think most men are guilty of) about how she reflected upon me.

She always looked good, of that I had no doubt but today she looked particularly beautiful: Ellen stands at about five feet and four inches tall when she is barefoot, and to look at her petite frame you’d be hard pressed to believe she wears a size 12. She’s blessed with rather large breasts (34FF) and a big, round, bum which adds up to a figure that a lot of women would kill to have. Today she was wearing some skinny black jeans, a white vest, and a pale denim shirt which hung open. Her hair, shoulder length and auburn with a blond ombré which was normally straightened to within an inch of it’s life was today a little tangled and unruly. Her make up, minimal as usual, was perfect, and her soft, pretty face positively glowed as she smiled and laughed along with whatever it was Dan was talking about. And more than this, despite her her short stature, she filled the room – her movements, simultaneously gentle and chaotic; her laugh; her smile; her warmth. Ellen’s presence was unmissable.

‘Yes,’ I thought to myself, ‘I’m doing pretty well’. That is to say that if I was being judged based on my partner’s physical appearance then I think I’m doing ok. I looked from Ellen to Dan, who was stood there clearly mesmerised by my wife. I absent mindedly cast my eyes over him. He’s about 6 feet tall, carrying a few extra pounds, but certainly not overweight. He has a tan, the sort you get from spending a lot of time outdoors but he doesn’t have the look of a builder or gardener, nor somebody who travels abroad a lot, so my guess is that he is retired and just has a lot of time to stand around on golf courses, or fishing. His sunkissed-colour puts him in stark contrast to Ellen, almost ghostly with her alabaster skin.

My eyes flick between the two of them. I offer the occasional “mhmm,” or “yeah,” whilst they talk. My eyes settle on Ellen and I notice her looking at me out the corner of her eye as she is mid-sentence with Dan. There was a momentary twitch in her facial expression as she sees that I have seen her looking, and in that moment, we share a thought. At first I try to pretend I don’t know what she (we) are thinking, but the truth is that I do know – my heart starts pounding a little bit faster. Ellen’s eyes move back towards Dan, her facial muscles resuming their correct, normal-conversation configuration and she continues making polite chit-chat.

Several months previously, in an uncharacteristically forthright conversation about sex, I had admitted to Ellen that it turns me on to imagine her with other men. This admission hadn’t come freely from me. No, it had been wrung from me with great difficulty on Ellen’s part, and great embarrassment on my own. Ellen and I didn’t often talk about sex – we didn’t need to, it was just something we did, which didn’t require much collusion or planning – but on that occasion, fuelled by 2 bottles of wine and the November edition of Cosmopolitan magazine, we broke our silence. I’d stuttered and mumbled my way through a patchy explanation of how sometimes, in certain circumstances, with the correct alignment of the stars, and with an impossible guarantee of no undesirable consequences, I enjoyed imagining her flirting, kissing, and even having sex with other men. Red faced and flustered, I went to great lengths to explain how this wasn’t an indication of any dissatisfaction on my part, and how I thought that this didn’t undermine our relationship, or our love for one another in any way.

At the time my admission had been met with bewilderment, confusion, and tense silence, and I was grateful that she’d not brought the subject up again. Instead we’d resumed our usual routine of ‘do it, enjoy it, and don’t talk about it’. I assumed that enough time had passed that, along with the Cosmopolitan magazine and the bottles of wine, the topic had been consigned to landfill. But that twitch in her face as we shared a fraction of a second of eye contact told me that she hadn’t forgotten. Bottles and magazines didn’t go to landfill, they just get recycled into something new.

Dan and Ellen continued chatting as I looked on. I tried to behave naturally, to continue chipping in to the conversation with my ‘mhmm’s and ‘yeah’s but my throat was dry, and my heart beat was pounding in my ears. There was an almost imperceptible change in Ellen’s posture and movements: she’d inched a little closer to Dan, impinging slightly on his personal space; she pushed her chest a little further out, letting her unbuttoned shirt fall open even more; as she laughed at Dan’s jokes she reached out and slapped his chest playfully.

I don’t know if Dan had also sensed a change in Ellen’s behaviour towards him, but the way he shuffled awkwardly on his feet as she casually picked at her bra strap made me think he had. I can only imagine that he must have felt quite uncomfortable at that moment, trying to figure out the correct interpretation of Ellen’s increasingly unambiguous flirting. Ellen must have known she had him on the back foot when she made her move – she reached out and took Dan’s hand in hers, and placed it on her breast. The tension in Dan’s body was almost audible and as his hand made contact with Ellen’s vest, he flinched and tried to draw his arm back, his eyes darting over to me looking for help (or permission?) and his mouth hanging open, words failing him.

I couldn’t have intervened to help him at this point even if I’d wanted to. My mouth was bone dry, and my body was tingling with… fear? Excitement? I don’t know, but as Ellen tightened her grip on his wrist, and prevented him from pulling his hand off her chest, my heart began to flutter and skip. Dan looked away from me, and focused his attention on Ellen who was massaging her chest against his hand, pushing her boobs into his increasingly receptive hand.

Ellen moved forward and stretch up on her tiptoes, and pressed her mouth against Dan’s. He wasn’t expecting her, and so his mouth hung slightly open, as she kissed him, gently at first, and then deeper, her tongue slipping between his lips. After a few awkward seconds Dan managed to snap out of his trance and he began kissing Ellen back, hungrily, and without any hint of self consciousness. His right hand remained firmly pressed to Ellen’s chest where it groped feverishly at her breasts though her vest and bra. The other hand found it’s way to her waist, where it lingered cautiously, awaiting permission to explore elsewhere.

Then, for the first time, I sense uncertainty on Ellen’s part. Her eyes opened, and she looked me dead in the eye as her mouth opened and closed enthusiastically against Dan’s. I can’t even imagine how I must have looked to Ellen in that moment, but whatever she saw in my face quelled any doubts she had. He eyes closed and she continued kissing Dan, he hands now dragging his on a tour of her body. She guided his hands over every curve and contour of her breasts, hips, and bum. Dan didn’t require much encouragement as his hands began exploring.

Ellen’s own hands began to busy themselves at Dan’s belt buckle, working it undone as she had done to my own on countless occasions.His belt hung open and Ellen’s fingers began to tug at his waistband. She found the button of his jeans and adeptly unfastened it, and slid the zipper down, allowing his jeans to fall open slightly. I felt the faintest hint of a lump in my throat as I saw his boxer shorts, stretched tight by his cock. Ellen giggled a little as she pulled his jeans open further, revealing more of the bulge in his underwear. He shifted his hips from side to side as Ellen eased his jeans down his thighs, letting them reach his knees. I began to feel dizzy and light headed as he hands traced back up his thighs, all the way to his growing bulge.

Her hand came to rest on the bulge in his boxers, her finger tips tracing the silhouette of his shaft and balls.Ellen’s mouth contorted into a big smile as she carried on kissing him, her hand massaging his cock through his boxer shorts. Meanwhile Dan’s hands, in their increasingly uninhibited tour of her chest, and knocked her shirt off her shoulders, so it just hung from her elbows. Dropping her arms to her sides one by one, Ellen let the shirt fall down to the floor, leaving her torso covered just by her vest and bra. Dan then took the lead in pulling the shoulder straps of her bra and vest down her shoulders. Ellen responded by working her arms completely out of the straps.

I don’t know how long I’d been watching them. It didn’t even feel real. I’d have pinched myself to check I wasn’t dreaming, but by this point my whole body was tingling and I felt like if I moved a single inch then I might lose all control. Dan’s hands were now on Ellen’s bum, and her arms reaching up, wrapped around his neck. Her torso rubbed against his as they kissed, passionately and noisily. Her vest and bra were losing the battle against friction and gravity and her boobs tumbled out. They were big, at size 34FF, and in my opinion they had just the perfect amount of sag to them. They hung over the bump formed by her bra and vest bunched up together, and as her body grinded against Dan’s her boobs moved as if independent from her body.

Dan’s hard cock had meanwhile burst loose from his boxer shorts. I couldn’t help but notice that he was a little bit smaller than me, with a thick bush of pubes. His hard shaft pressed against Ellen’s abdomen and left a tiny wet patch of precum on her vest. He pushed his hips forcefully against her, whilst his hands pulled her tight to him.

Finally Ellen broke away from him. He stood there, mouth ajar, blinking morosely with his jeans around his ankles. Ellen pushed him backwards and he sat on the edge of our bed. She hooked her fingers around the waist band of his boxer shorts and pulled them down. She turned to face me, her face flushed and red, her hair tangled and dishevelled. Her boobs spilled out of the top of her vest and bra. She looked me dead in the eye as she bent slightly, and pulled her leggings and panties down in one quick move. She stood upright again, and stepped out of the tangled mess of her leggings. Her pussy was immaculately shaved, except for a patch of wispy brown hair just at the top. She parted her legs slightly, and reached her hand between them. The room was silent, except for the sound of her fingers teasing the lips of her audibly drenched pussy.

She turned away from me, and stretched out a glistening, wet hand and began toying with the head of Dan’s cock. The mixture of her juice, with his pre cum soon had his cock glistening and wet. Unhesitatingly, she climbed on and straddled his lap, her hand reaching behind to guide the tip of his penis towards her dripping wet opening. She worked his head against her pussy, letting it slide in an inch or so before pausing.

My heart beat was deafening in my ears, my head span and I felt unsteady on my feet but in my head I urged her on. Dan lay back on the bed and Ellen lowered herself further down his shaft until he was all the way in. Dan’s hips wiggled up and down in the little space he had between the bed and Ellen’s thighs. Ellen leaned forward, letting her tits hang down onto Dan’s face. She began rocking back and forward, sliding up and down Dan’s cock. Dan strained his neck as his mouth hung open letting Ellen’s breasts smother his face, his tongue and mouth greedly lapping at whatever they could reach.

He must only have been inside her for 40 seconds when I began to moan and groan, his legs shaking, and fingers tightening, digging into her hips as he came. Ellen’s movements slowed as Dan emptied his load into her. She leant forward and kissed him softly for a minute or two. He lay there helplessly, trapped beneath her. His cock was still inside her, but it was gradually becoming softer.

Ellen climbed off Dan, and bent down to scoop up her clothes. A trickle of cum snaked its way down her thigh. Ellen took my hand and kissed me briefly, a peck on the lips, before giggling and skipping off out the room. As if a spell had been broken, I regained the use of my limbs, and brain, and remembered the task at hand. Dan dressed himself, sheepishly, and joined me over by the wardrobe.

---

The doorbell rang. I peeked out the window and saw an unfamiliar white van parked outside. A rental. It was ‘LancasterDan64’, the eBay user who had won the auction for a wardrobe we had been trying to sell. He told me he’d be here for it at 11am, depending on traffic, and here he was, right on time.

I answered the door to him, immediately offering him a handshake and a ‘hello!’ before beckoning him inside. I was just grateful he had agreed to help me manoeuvre the wardrobe downstairs and out of my house, let alone that he was going to pay for the privilege. The thing was too heavy and cumbersome for me to manage on my own, and although Ellen had offered to help, I think she was overestimating her strength. Luckily, Dan (I’m assuming that’s his name, his eBay handle wasn’t particularly cryptic) had offered to help me move the wardrobe when he arrived to pick it up, and despite his 51 or so years (I’m assuming the 64 in his username referred to his year of birth) he didn’t look like he was lacking in strength.

After the usual small talk (traffic, weather, sports) I took him upstairs and showed him to his new acquisition – one solid oak, brass handled wardrobe. They didn’t make them like this any more. After a brief inspection, he agreed to the purchase, and we set about trying to shift it.

We hadn’t made much progress when Ellen popped her head around the door and asked how we were getting on. “We’re getting there,” I said, as Dan and I both set the wardrobe back down on the floor simultaneously. “Oh, this is my wife, Ellen,” I said to Dan. Ellen took a step into the room and shook Dan’s hand, thanking him for buying the wardrobe, but also for just helping to shift it. The two of them chit-chatted politely about the wardrobe, whilst I, less adept at social niceties, busied myself pretending to be figuring out the next steps in our furniture removal strategy.

Ellen, on the other hand, excelled at this sort of thing. Within 30 seconds of learning somebody’s name she could be totally at ease with them, talking to them as though they were lifelong friends. I loved that about her. Being with her made up for my dearth of any willingness or ability to develop anything other than the bare minimum rapport with strangers. I watched her as she spoke to him, genuinely interested in the things he said to her, and began to think (as I think most men are guilty of) about how she reflected upon me.

She always looked good, of that I had no doubt but today she looked particularly beautiful: Ellen stands at about five feet and four inches tall when she is barefoot, and to look at her petite frame you’d be hard pressed to believe she wears a size 12. She’s blessed with rather large breasts (34FF) and a big, round, bum which adds up to a figure that a lot of women would kill to have. Today she was wearing some skinny black jeans, a white vest, and a pale denim shirt which hung open. Her hair, shoulder length and auburn with a blond ombré which was normally straightened to within an inch of it’s life was today a little tangled and unruly. Her make up, minimal as usual, was perfect, and her soft, pretty face positively glowed as she smiled and laughed along with whatever it was Dan was talking about. And more than this, despite her her short stature, she filled the room – her movements, simultaneously gentle and chaotic; her laugh; her smile; her warmth. Ellen’s presence was unmissable.

‘Yes,’ I thought to myself, ‘I’m doing pretty well’. That is to say that if I was being judged based on my partner’s physical appearance then I think I’m doing ok. I looked from Ellen to Dan, who was stood there clearly mesmerised by my wife. I absent mindedly cast my eyes over him. He’s about 6 feet tall, carrying a few extra pounds, but certainly not overweight. He has a tan, the sort you get from spending a lot of time outdoors but he doesn’t have the look of a builder or gardener, nor somebody who travels abroad a lot, so my guess is that he is retired and just has a lot of time to stand around on golf courses, or fishing. His sunkissed-colour puts him in stark contrast to Ellen, almost ghostly with her alabaster skin.

My eyes flick between the two of them. I offer the occasional “mhmm,” or “yeah,” whilst they talk. My eyes settle on Ellen and I notice her looking at me out the corner of her eye as she is mid-sentence with Dan. There was a momentary twitch in her facial expression as she sees that I have seen her looking, and in that moment, we share a thought. At first I try to pretend I don’t know what she (we) are thinking, but the truth is that I do know – my heart starts pounding a little bit faster. Ellen’s eyes move back towards Dan, her facial muscles resuming their correct, normal-conversation configuration and she continues making polite chit-chat.

Several months previously, in an uncharacteristically forthright conversation about sex, I had admitted to Ellen that it turns me on to imagine her with other men. This admission hadn’t come freely from me. No, it had been wrung from me with great difficulty on Ellen’s part, and great embarrassment on my own. Ellen and I didn’t often talk about sex – we didn’t need to, it was just something we did, which didn’t require much collusion or planning – but on that occasion, fuelled by 2 bottles of wine and the November edition of Cosmopolitan magazine, we broke our silence. I’d stuttered and mumbled my way through a patchy explanation of how sometimes, in certain circumstances, with the correct alignment of the stars, and with an impossible guarantee of no undesirable consequences, I enjoyed imagining her flirting, kissing, and even having sex with other men. Red faced and flustered, I went to great lengths to explain how this wasn’t an indication of any dissatisfaction on my part, and how I thought that this didn’t undermine our relationship, or our love for one another in any way.

At the time my admission had been met with bewilderment, confusion, and tense silence, and I was grateful that she’d not brought the subject up again. Instead we’d resumed our usual routine of ‘do it, enjoy it, and don’t talk about it’. I assumed that enough time had passed that, along with the Cosmopolitan magazine and the bottles of wine, the topic had been consigned to landfill. But that twitch in her face as we shared a fraction of a second of eye contact told me that she hadn’t forgotten. Bottles and magazines didn’t go to landfill, they just get recycled into something new.

Dan and Ellen continued chatting as I looked on. I tried to behave naturally, to continue chipping in to the conversation with my ‘mhmm’s and ‘yeah’s but my throat was dry, and my heart beat was pounding in my ears. There was an almost imperceptible change in Ellen’s posture and movements: she’d inched a little closer to Dan, impinging slightly on his personal space; she pushed her chest a little further out, letting her unbuttoned shirt fall open even more; as she laughed at Dan’s jokes she reached out and slapped his chest playfully.

I don’t know if Dan had also sensed a change in Ellen’s behaviour towards him, but the way he shuffled awkwardly on his feet as she casually picked at her bra strap made me think he had. I can only imagine that he must have felt quite uncomfortable at that moment, trying to figure out the correct interpretation of Ellen’s increasingly unambiguous flirting. Ellen must have known she had him on the back foot when she made her move – she reached out and took Dan’s hand in hers, and placed it on her breast. The tension in Dan’s body was almost audible and as his hand made contact with Ellen’s vest, he flinched and tried to draw his arm back, his eyes darting over to me looking for help (or permission?) and his mouth hanging open, words failing him.

I couldn’t have intervened to help him at this point even if I’d wanted to. My mouth was bone dry, and my body was tingling with… fear? Excitement? I don’t know, but as Ellen tightened her grip on his wrist, and prevented him from pulling his hand off her chest, my heart began to flutter and skip. Dan looked away from me, and focused his attention on Ellen who was massaging her chest against his hand, pushing her boobs into his increasingly receptive hand.

Ellen moved forward and stretch up on her tiptoes, and pressed her mouth against Dan’s. He wasn’t expecting her, and so his mouth hung slightly open, as she kissed him, gently at first, and then deeper, her tongue slipping between his lips. After a few awkward seconds Dan managed to snap out of his trance and he began kissing Ellen back, hungrily, and without any hint of self consciousness. His right hand remained firmly pressed to Ellen’s chest where it groped feverishly at her breasts though her vest and bra. The other hand found it’s way to her waist, where it lingered cautiously, awaiting permission to explore elsewhere.

Then, for the first time, I sense uncertainty on Ellen’s part. Her eyes opened, and she looked me dead in the eye as her mouth opened and closed enthusiastically against Dan’s. I can’t even imagine how I must have looked to Ellen in that moment, but whatever she saw in my face quelled any doubts she had. He eyes closed and she continued kissing Dan, he hands now dragging his on a tour of her body. She guided his hands over every curve and contour of her breasts, hips, and bum. Dan didn’t require much encouragement as his hands began exploring.

Ellen’s own hands began to busy themselves at Dan’s belt buckle, working it undone as she had done to my own on countless occasions.His belt hung open and Ellen’s fingers began to tug at his waistband. She found the button of his jeans and adeptly unfastened it, and slid the zipper down, allowing his jeans to fall open slightly. I felt the faintest hint of a lump in my throat as I saw his boxer shorts, stretched tight by his cock. Ellen giggled a little as she pulled his jeans open further, revealing more of the bulge in his underwear. He shifted his hips from side to side as Ellen eased his jeans down his thighs, letting them reach his knees. I began to feel dizzy and light headed as he hands traced back up his thighs, all the way to his growing bulge.

Her hand came to rest on the bulge in his boxers, her finger tips tracing the silhouette of his shaft and balls.Ellen’s mouth contorted into a big smile as she carried on kissing him, her hand massaging his cock through his boxer shorts. Meanwhile Dan’s hands, in their increasingly uninhibited tour of her chest, and knocked her shirt off her shoulders, so it just hung from her elbows. Dropping her arms to her sides one by one, Ellen let the shirt fall down to the floor, leaving her torso covered just by her vest and bra. Dan then took the lead in pulling the shoulder straps of her bra and vest down her shoulders. Ellen responded by working her arms completely out of the straps.

I don’t know how long I’d been watching them. It didn’t even feel real. I’d have pinched myself to check I wasn’t dreaming, but by this point my whole body was tingling and I felt like if I moved a single inch then I might lose all control. Dan’s hands were now on Ellen’s bum, and her arms reaching up, wrapped around his neck. Her torso rubbed against his as they kissed, passionately and noisily. Her vest and bra were losing the battle against friction and gravity and her boobs tumbled out. They were big, at size 34FF, and in my opinion they had just the perfect amount of sag to them. They hung over the bump formed by her bra and vest bunched up together, and as her body grinded against Dan’s her boobs moved as if independent from her body.

Dan’s hard cock had meanwhile burst loose from his boxer shorts. I couldn’t help but notice that he was a little bit smaller than me, with a thick bush of pubes. His hard shaft pressed against Ellen’s abdomen and left a tiny wet patch of precum on her vest. He pushed his hips forcefully against her, whilst his hands pulled her tight to him.

Finally Ellen broke away from him. He stood there, mouth ajar, blinking morosely with his jeans around his ankles. Ellen pushed him backwards and he sat on the edge of our bed. She hooked her fingers around the waist band of his boxer shorts and pulled them down. She turned to face me, her face flushed and red, her hair tangled and dishevelled. Her boobs spilled out of the top of her vest and bra. She looked me dead in the eye as she bent slightly, and pulled her leggings and panties down in one quick move. She stood upright again, and stepped out of the tangled mess of her leggings. Her pussy was immaculately shaved, except for a patch of wispy brown hair just at the top. She parted her legs slightly, and reached her hand between them. The room was silent, except for the sound of her fingers teasing the lips of her audibly drenched pussy.

She turned away from me, and stretched out a glistening, wet hand and began toying with the head of Dan’s cock. The mixture of her juice, with his pre cum soon had his cock glistening and wet. Unhesitatingly, she climbed on and straddled his lap, her hand reaching behind to guide the tip of his penis towards her dripping wet opening. She worked his head against her pussy, letting it slide in an inch or so before pausing.

My heart beat was deafening in my ears, my head span and I felt unsteady on my feet but in my head I urged her on. Dan lay back on the bed and Ellen lowered herself further down his shaft until he was all the way in. Dan’s hips wiggled up and down in the little space he had between the bed and Ellen’s thighs. Ellen leaned forward, letting her tits hang down onto Dan’s face. She began rocking back and forward, sliding up and down Dan’s cock. Dan strained his neck as his mouth hung open letting Ellen’s breasts smother his face, his tongue and mouth greedly lapping at whatever they could reach.

He must only have been inside her for 40 seconds when I began to moan and groan, his legs shaking, and fingers tightening, digging into her hips as he came. Ellen’s movements slowed as Dan emptied his load into her. She leant forward and kissed him softly for a minute or two. He lay there helplessly, trapped beneath her. His cock was still inside her, but it was gradually becoming softer.

Ellen climbed off Dan, and bent down to scoop up her clothes. A trickle of cum snaked its way down her thigh. Ellen took my hand and kissed me briefly, a peck on the lips, before giggling and skipping off out the room. As if a spell had been broken, I regained the use of my limbs, and brain, and remembered the task at hand. Dan dressed himself, sheepishly, and joined me over by the wardrobe.

---

The doorbell rang. I peeked out the window and saw an unfamiliar white van parked outside. A rental. It was ‘LancasterDan64’, the eBay user who had won the auction for a wardrobe we had been trying to sell. He told me he’d be here for it at 11am, depending on traffic, and here he was, right on time.

I answered the door to him, immediately offering him a handshake and a ‘hello!’ before beckoning him inside. I was just grateful he had agreed to help me manoeuvre the wardrobe downstairs and out of my house, let alone that he was going to pay for the privilege. The thing was too heavy and cumbersome for me to manage on my own, and although Ellen had offered to help, I think she was overestimating her strength. Luckily, Dan (I’m assuming that’s his name, his eBay handle wasn’t particularly cryptic) had offered to help me move the wardrobe when he arrived to pick it up, and despite his 51 or so years (I’m assuming the 64 in his username referred to his year of birth) he didn’t look like he was lacking in strength.

After the usual small talk (traffic, weather, sports) I took him upstairs and showed him to his new acquisition – one solid oak, brass handled wardrobe. They didn’t make them like this any more. After a brief inspection, he agreed to the purchase, and we set about trying to shift it.

We hadn’t made much progress when Ellen popped her head around the door and asked how we were getting on. “We’re getting there,” I said, as Dan and I both set the wardrobe back down on the floor simultaneously. “Oh, this is my wife, Ellen,” I said to Dan. Ellen took a step into the room and shook Dan’s hand, thanking him for buying the wardrobe, but also for just helping to shift it. The two of them chit-chatted politely about the wardrobe, whilst I, less adept at social niceties, busied myself pretending to be figuring out the next steps in our furniture removal strategy.

Ellen, on the other hand, excelled at this sort of thing. Within 30 seconds of learning somebody’s name she could be totally at ease with them, talking to them as though they were lifelong friends. I loved that about her. Being with her made up for my dearth of any willingness or ability to develop anything other than the bare minimum rapport with strangers. I watched her as she spoke to him, genuinely interested in the things he said to her, and began to think (as I think most men are guilty of) about how she reflected upon me.

She always looked good, of that I had no doubt but today she looked particularly beautiful: Ellen stands at about five feet and four inches tall when she is barefoot, and to look at her petite frame you’d be hard pressed to believe she wears a size 12. She’s blessed with rather large breasts (34FF) and a big, round, bum which adds up to a figure that a lot of women would kill to have. Today she was wearing some skinny black jeans, a white vest, and a pale denim shirt which hung open. Her hair, shoulder length and auburn with a blond ombré which was normally straightened to within an inch of it’s life was today a little tangled and unruly. Her make up, minimal as usual, was perfect, and her soft, pretty face positively glowed as she smiled and laughed along with whatever it was Dan was talking about. And more than this, despite her her short stature, she filled the room – her movements, simultaneously gentle and chaotic; her laugh; her smile; her warmth. Ellen’s presence was unmissable.

‘Yes,’ I thought to myself, ‘I’m doing pretty well’. That is to say that if I was being judged based on my partner’s physical appearance then I think I’m doing ok. I looked from Ellen to Dan, who was stood there clearly mesmerised by my wife. I absent mindedly cast my eyes over him. He’s about 6 feet tall, carrying a few extra pounds, but certainly not overweight. He has a tan, the sort you get from spending a lot of time outdoors but he doesn’t have the look of a builder or gardener, nor somebody who travels abroad a lot, so my guess is that he is retired and just has a lot of time to stand around on golf courses, or fishing. His sunkissed-colour puts him in stark contrast to Ellen, almost ghostly with her alabaster skin.

My eyes flick between the two of them. I offer the occasional “mhmm,” or “yeah,” whilst they talk. My eyes settle on Ellen and I notice her looking at me out the corner of her eye as she is mid-sentence with Dan. There was a momentary twitch in her facial expression as she sees that I have seen her looking, and in that moment, we share a thought. At first I try to pretend I don’t know what she (we) are thinking, but the truth is that I do know – my heart starts pounding a little bit faster. Ellen’s eyes move back towards Dan, her facial muscles resuming their correct, normal-conversation configuration and she continues making polite chit-chat.

Several months previously, in an uncharacteristically forthright conversation about sex, I had admitted to Ellen that it turns me on to imagine her with other men. This admission hadn’t come freely from me. No, it had been wrung from me with great difficulty on Ellen’s part, and great embarrassment on my own. Ellen and I didn’t often talk about sex – we didn’t need to, it was just something we did, which didn’t require much collusion or planning – but on that occasion, fuelled by 2 bottles of wine and the November edition of Cosmopolitan magazine, we broke our silence. I’d stuttered and mumbled my way through a patchy explanation of how sometimes, in certain circumstances, with the correct alignment of the stars, and with an impossible guarantee of no undesirable consequences, I enjoyed imagining her flirting, kissing, and even having sex with other men. Red faced and flustered, I went to great lengths to explain how this wasn’t an indication of any dissatisfaction on my part, and how I thought that this didn’t undermine our relationship, or our love for one another in any way.

At the time my admission had been met with bewilderment, confusion, and tense silence, and I was grateful that she’d not brought the subject up again. Instead we’d resumed our usual routine of ‘do it, enjoy it, and don’t talk about it’. I assumed that enough time had passed that, along with the Cosmopolitan magazine and the bottles of wine, the topic had been consigned to landfill. But that twitch in her face as we shared a fraction of a second of eye contact told me that she hadn’t forgotten. Bottles and magazines didn’t go to landfill, they just get recycled into something new.

Dan and Ellen continued chatting as I looked on. I tried to behave naturally, to continue chipping in to the conversation with my ‘mhmm’s and ‘yeah’s but my throat was dry, and my heart beat was pounding in my ears. There was an almost imperceptible change in Ellen’s posture and movements: she’d inched a little closer to Dan, impinging slightly on his personal space; she pushed her chest a little further out, letting her unbuttoned shirt fall open even more; as she laughed at Dan’s jokes she reached out and slapped his chest playfully.

I don’t know if Dan had also sensed a change in Ellen’s behaviour towards him, but the way he shuffled awkwardly on his feet as she casually picked at her bra strap made me think he had. I can only imagine that he must have felt quite uncomfortable at that moment, trying to figure out the correct interpretation of Ellen’s increasingly unambiguous flirting. Ellen must have known she had him on the back foot when she made her move – she reached out and took Dan’s hand in hers, and placed it on her breast. The tension in Dan’s body was almost audible and as his hand made contact with Ellen’s vest, he flinched and tried to draw his arm back, his eyes darting over to me looking for help (or permission?) and his mouth hanging open, words failing him.

I couldn’t have intervened to help him at this point even if I’d wanted to. My mouth was bone dry, and my body was tingling with… fear? Excitement? I don’t know, but as Ellen tightened her grip on his wrist, and prevented him from pulling his hand off her chest, my heart began to flutter and skip. Dan looked away from me, and focused his attention on Ellen who was massaging her chest against his hand, pushing her boobs into his increasingly receptive hand.

Ellen moved forward and stretch up on her tiptoes, and pressed her mouth against Dan’s. He wasn’t expecting her, and so his mouth hung slightly open, as she kissed him, gently at first, and then deeper, her tongue slipping between his lips. After a few awkward seconds Dan managed to snap out of his trance and he began kissing Ellen back, hungrily, and without any hint of self consciousness. His right hand remained firmly pressed to Ellen’s chest where it groped feverishly at her breasts though her vest and bra. The other hand found it’s way to her waist, where it lingered cautiously, awaiting permission to explore elsewhere.

Then, for the first time, I sense uncertainty on Ellen’s part. Her eyes opened, and she looked me dead in the eye as her mouth opened and closed enthusiastically against Dan’s. I can’t even imagine how I must have looked to Ellen in that moment, but whatever she saw in my face quelled any doubts she had. He eyes closed and she continued kissing Dan, he hands now dragging his on a tour of her body. She guided his hands over every curve and contour of her breasts, hips, and bum. Dan didn’t require much encouragement as his hands began exploring.

Ellen’s own hands began to busy themselves at Dan’s belt buckle, working it undone as she had done to my own on countless occasions.His belt hung open and Ellen’s fingers began to tug at his waistband. She found the button of his jeans and adeptly unfastened it, and slid the zipper down, allowing his jeans to fall open slightly. I felt the faintest hint of a lump in my throat as I saw his boxer shorts, stretched tight by his cock. Ellen giggled a little as she pulled his jeans open further, revealing more of the bulge in his underwear. He shifted his hips from side to side as Ellen eased his jeans down his thighs, letting them reach his knees. I began to feel dizzy and light headed as he hands traced back up his thighs, all the way to his growing bulge.

Her hand came to rest on the bulge in his boxers, her finger tips tracing the silhouette of his shaft and balls.Ellen’s mouth contorted into a big smile as she carried on kissing him, her hand massaging his cock through his boxer shorts. Meanwhile Dan’s hands, in their increasingly uninhibited tour of her chest, and knocked her shirt off her shoulders, so it just hung from her elbows. Dropping her arms to her sides one by one, Ellen let the shirt fall down to the floor, leaving her torso covered just by her vest and bra. Dan then took the lead in pulling the shoulder straps of her bra and vest down her shoulders. Ellen responded by working her arms completely out of the straps.

I don’t know how long I’d been watching them. It didn’t even feel real. I’d have pinched myself to check I wasn’t dreaming, but by this point my whole body was tingling and I felt like if I moved a single inch then I might lose all control. Dan’s hands were now on Ellen’s bum, and her arms reaching up, wrapped around his neck. Her torso rubbed against his as they kissed, passionately and noisily. Her vest and bra were losing the battle against friction and gravity and her boobs tumbled out. They were big, at size 34FF, and in my opinion they had just the perfect amount of sag to them. They hung over the bump formed by her bra and vest bunched up together, and as her body grinded against Dan’s her boobs moved as if independent from her body.

Dan’s hard cock had meanwhile burst loose from his boxer shorts. I couldn’t help but notice that he was a little bit smaller than me, with a thick bush of pubes. His hard shaft pressed against Ellen’s abdomen and left a tiny wet patch of precum on her vest. He pushed his hips forcefully against her, whilst his hands pulled her tight to him.

Finally Ellen broke away from him. He stood there, mouth ajar, blinking morosely with his jeans around his ankles. Ellen pushed him backwards and he sat on the edge of our bed. She hooked her fingers around the waist band of his boxer shorts and pulled them down. She turned to face me, her face flushed and red, her hair tangled and dishevelled. Her boobs spilled out of the top of her vest and bra. She looked me dead in the eye as she bent slightly, and pulled her leggings and panties down in one quick move. She stood upright again, and stepped out of the tangled mess of her leggings. Her pussy was immaculately shaved, except for a patch of wispy brown hair just at the top. She parted her legs slightly, and reached her hand between them. The room was silent, except for the sound of her fingers teasing the lips of her audibly drenched pussy.

She turned away from me, and stretched out a glistening, wet hand and began toying with the head of Dan’s cock. The mixture of her juice, with his pre cum soon had his cock glistening and wet. Unhesitatingly, she climbed on and straddled his lap, her hand reaching behind to guide the tip of his penis towards her dripping wet opening. She worked his head against her pussy, letting it slide in an inch or so before pausing.

My heart beat was deafening in my ears, my head span and I felt unsteady on my feet but in my head I urged her on. Dan lay back on the bed and Ellen lowered herself further down his shaft until he was all the way in. Dan’s hips wiggled up and down in the little space he had between the bed and Ellen’s thighs. Ellen leaned forward, letting her tits hang down onto Dan’s face. She began rocking back and forward, sliding up and down Dan’s cock. Dan strained his neck as his mouth hung open letting Ellen’s breasts smother his face, his tongue and mouth greedly lapping at whatever they could reach.

He must only have been inside her for 40 seconds when I began to moan and groan, his legs shaking, and fingers tightening, digging into her hips as he came. Ellen’s movements slowed as Dan emptied his load into her. She leant forward and kissed him softly for a minute or two. He lay there helplessly, trapped beneath her. His cock was still inside her, but it was gradually becoming softer.

Ellen climbed off Dan, and bent down to scoop up her clothes. A trickle of cum snaked its way down her thigh. Ellen took my hand and kissed me briefly, a peck on the lips, before giggling and skipping off out the room. As if a spell had been broken, I regained the use of my limbs, and brain, and remembered the task at hand. Dan dressed himself, sheepishly, and joined me over by the wardrobe.

---

The doorbell rang. I peeked out the window and saw an unfamiliar white van parked outside. A rental. It was ‘LancasterDan64’, the eBay user who had won the auction for a wardrobe we had been trying to sell. He told me he’d be here for it at 11am, depending on traffic, and here he was, right on time.

I answered the door to him, immediately offering him a handshake and a ‘hello!’ before beckoning him inside. I was just grateful he had agreed to help me manoeuvre the wardrobe downstairs and out of my house, let alone that he was going to pay for the privilege. The thing was too heavy and cumbersome for me to manage on my own, and although Ellen had offered to help, I think she was overestimating her strength. Luckily, Dan (I’m assuming that’s his name, his eBay handle wasn’t particularly cryptic) had offered to help me move the wardrobe when he arrived to pick it up, and despite his 51 or so years (I’m assuming the 64 in his username referred to his year of birth) he didn’t look like he was lacking in strength.

After the usual small talk (traffic, weather, sports) I took him upstairs and showed him to his new acquisition – one solid oak, brass handled wardrobe. They didn’t make them like this any more. After a brief inspection, he agreed to the purchase, and we set about trying to shift it.

We hadn’t made much progress when Ellen popped her head around the door and asked how we were getting on. “We’re getting there,” I said, as Dan and I both set the wardrobe back down on the floor simultaneously. “Oh, this is my wife, Ellen,” I said to Dan. Ellen took a step into the room and shook Dan’s hand, thanking him for buying the wardrobe, but also for just helping to shift it. The two of them chit-chatted politely about the wardrobe, whilst I, less adept at social niceties, busied myself pretending to be figuring out the next steps in our furniture removal strategy.

Ellen, on the other hand, excelled at this sort of thing. Within 30 seconds of learning somebody’s name she could be totally at ease with them, talking to them as though they were lifelong friends. I loved that about her. Being with her made up for my dearth of any willingness or ability to develop anything other than the bare minimum rapport with strangers. I watched her as she spoke to him, genuinely interested in the things he said to her, and began to think (as I think most men are guilty of) about how she reflected upon me.

She always looked good, of that I had no doubt but today she looked particularly beautiful: Ellen stands at about five feet and four inches tall when she is barefoot, and to look at her petite frame you’d be hard pressed to believe she wears a size 12. She’s blessed with rather large breasts (34FF) and a big, round, bum which adds up to a figure that a lot of women would kill to have. Today she was wearing some skinny black jeans, a white vest, and a pale denim shirt which hung open. Her hair, shoulder length and auburn with a blond ombré which was normally straightened to within an inch of it’s life was today a little tangled and unruly. Her make up, minimal as usual, was perfect, and her soft, pretty face positively glowed as she smiled and laughed along with whatever it was Dan was talking about. And more than this, despite her her short stature, she filled the room – her movements, simultaneously gentle and chaotic; her laugh; her smile; her warmth. Ellen’s presence was unmissable.

‘Yes,’ I thought to myself, ‘I’m doing pretty well’. That is to say that if I was being judged based on my partner’s physical appearance then I think I’m doing ok. I looked from Ellen to Dan, who was stood there clearly mesmerised by my wife. I absent mindedly cast my eyes over him. He’s about 6 feet tall, carrying a few extra pounds, but certainly not overweight. He has a tan, the sort you get from spending a lot of time outdoors but he doesn’t have the look of a builder or gardener, nor somebody who travels abroad a lot, so my guess is that he is retired and just has a lot of time to stand around on golf courses, or fishing. His sunkissed-colour puts him in stark contrast to Ellen, almost ghostly with her alabaster skin.

My eyes flick between the two of them. I offer the occasional “mhmm,” or “yeah,” whilst they talk. My eyes settle on Ellen and I notice her looking at me out the corner of her eye as she is mid-sentence with Dan. There was a momentary twitch in her facial expression as she sees that I have seen her looking, and in that moment, we share a thought. At first I try to pretend I don’t know what she (we) are thinking, but the truth is that I do know – my heart starts pounding a little bit faster. Ellen’s eyes move back towards Dan, her facial muscles resuming their correct, normal-conversation configuration and she continues making polite chit-chat.

Several months previously, in an uncharacteristically forthright conversation about sex, I had admitted to Ellen that it turns me on to imagine her with other men. This admission hadn’t come freely from me. No, it had been wrung from me with great difficulty on Ellen’s part, and great embarrassment on my own. Ellen and I didn’t often talk about sex – we didn’t need to, it was just something we did, which didn’t require much collusion or planning – but on that occasion, fuelled by 2 bottles of wine and the November edition of Cosmopolitan magazine, we broke our silence. I’d stuttered and mumbled my way through a patchy explanation of how sometimes, in certain circumstances, with the correct alignment of the stars, and with an impossible guarantee of no undesirable consequences, I enjoyed imagining her flirting, kissing, and even having sex with other men. Red faced and flustered, I went to great lengths to explain how this wasn’t an indication of any dissatisfaction on my part, and how I thought that this didn’t undermine our relationship, or our love for one another in any way.

At the time my admission had been met with bewilderment, confusion, and tense silence, and I was grateful that she’d not brought the subject up again. Instead we’d resumed our usual routine of ‘do it, enjoy it, and don’t talk about it’. I assumed that enough time had passed that, along with the Cosmopolitan magazine and the bottles of wine, the topic had been consigned to landfill. But that twitch in her face as we shared a fraction of a second of eye contact told me that she hadn’t forgotten. Bottles and magazines didn’t go to landfill, they just get recycled into something new.

Dan and Ellen continued chatting as I looked on. I tried to behave naturally, to continue chipping in to the conversation with my ‘mhmm’s and ‘yeah’s but my throat was dry, and my heart beat was pounding in my ears. There was an almost imperceptible change in Ellen’s posture and movements: she’d inched a little closer to Dan, impinging slightly on his personal space; she pushed her chest a little further out, letting her unbuttoned shirt fall open even more; as she laughed at Dan’s jokes she reached out and slapped his chest playfully.

I don’t know if Dan had also sensed a change in Ellen’s behaviour towards him, but the way he shuffled awkwardly on his feet as she casually picked at her bra strap made me think he had. I can only imagine that he must have felt quite uncomfortable at that moment, trying to figure out the correct interpretation of Ellen’s increasingly unambiguous flirting. Ellen must have known she had him on the back foot when she made her move – she reached out and took Dan’s hand in hers, and placed it on her breast. The tension in Dan’s body was almost audible and as his hand made contact with Ellen’s vest, he flinched and tried to draw his arm back, his eyes darting over to me looking for help (or permission?) and his mouth hanging open, words failing him.

I couldn’t have intervened to help him at this point even if I’d wanted to. My mouth was bone dry, and my body was tingling with… fear? Excitement? I don’t know, but as Ellen tightened her grip on his wrist, and prevented him from pulling his hand off her chest, my heart began to flutter and skip. Dan looked away from me, and focused his attention on Ellen who was massaging her chest against his hand, pushing her boobs into his increasingly receptive hand.

Ellen moved forward and stretch up on her tiptoes, and pressed her mouth against Dan’s. He wasn’t expecting her, and so his mouth hung slightly open, as she kissed him, gently at first, and then deeper, her tongue slipping between his lips. After a few awkward seconds Dan managed to snap out of his trance and he began kissing Ellen back, hungrily, and without any hint of self consciousness. His right hand remained firmly pressed to Ellen’s chest where it groped feverishly at her breasts though her vest and bra. The other hand found it’s way to her waist, where it lingered cautiously, awaiting permission to explore elsewhere.

Then, for the first time, I sense uncertainty on Ellen’s part. Her eyes opened, and she looked me dead in the eye as her mouth opened and closed enthusiastically against Dan’s. I can’t even imagine how I must have looked to Ellen in that moment, but whatever she saw in my face quelled any doubts she had. He eyes closed and she continued kissing Dan, he hands now dragging his on a tour of her body. She guided his hands over every curve and contour of her breasts, hips, and bum. Dan didn’t require much encouragement as his hands began exploring.

Ellen’s own hands began to busy themselves at Dan’s belt buckle, working it undone as she had done to my own on countless occasions.His belt hung open and Ellen’s fingers began to tug at his waistband. She found the button of his jeans and adeptly unfastened it, and slid the zipper down, allowing his jeans to fall open slightly. I felt the faintest hint of a lump in my throat as I saw his boxer shorts, stretched tight by his cock. Ellen giggled a little as she pulled his jeans open further, revealing more of the bulge in his underwear. He shifted his hips from side to side as Ellen eased his jeans down his thighs, letting them reach his knees. I began to feel dizzy and light headed as he hands traced back up his thighs, all the way to his growing bulge.

Her hand came to rest on the bulge in his boxers, her finger tips tracing the silhouette of his shaft and balls.Ellen’s mouth contorted into a big smile as she carried on kissing him, her hand massaging his cock through his boxer shorts. Meanwhile Dan’s hands, in their increasingly uninhibited tour of her chest, and knocked her shirt off her shoulders, so it just hung from her elbows. Dropping her arms to her sides one by one, Ellen let the shirt fall down to the floor, leaving her torso covered just by her vest and bra. Dan then took the lead in pulling the shoulder straps of her bra and vest down her shoulders. Ellen responded by working her arms completely out of the straps.

I don’t know how long I’d been watching them. It didn’t even feel real. I’d have pinched myself to check I wasn’t dreaming, but by this point my whole body was tingling and I felt like if I moved a single inch then I might lose all control. Dan’s hands were now on Ellen’s bum, and her arms reaching up, wrapped around his neck. Her torso rubbed against his as they kissed, passionately and noisily. Her vest and bra were losing the battle against friction and gravity and her boobs tumbled out. They were big, at size 34FF, and in my opinion they had just the perfect amount of sag to them. They hung over the bump formed by her bra and vest bunched up together, and as her body grinded against Dan’s her boobs moved as if independent from her body.

Dan’s hard cock had meanwhile burst loose from his boxer shorts. I couldn’t help but notice that he was a little bit smaller than me, with a thick bush of pubes. His hard shaft pressed against Ellen’s abdomen and left a tiny wet patch of precum on her vest. He pushed his hips forcefully against her, whilst his hands pulled her tight to him.

Finally Ellen broke away from him. He stood there, mouth ajar, blinking morosely with his jeans around his ankles. Ellen pushed him backwards and he sat on the edge of our bed. She hooked her fingers around the waist band of his boxer shorts and pulled them down. She turned to face me, her face flushed and red, her hair tangled and dishevelled. Her boobs spilled out of the top of her vest and bra. She looked me dead in the eye as she bent slightly, and pulled her leggings and panties down in one quick move. She stood upright again, and stepped out of the tangled mess of her leggings. Her pussy was immaculately shaved, except for a patch of wispy brown hair just at the top. She parted her legs slightly, and reached her hand between them. The room was silent, except for the sound of her fingers teasing the lips of her audibly drenched pussy.

She turned away from me, and stretched out a glistening, wet hand and began toying with the head of Dan’s cock. The mixture of her juice, with his pre cum soon had his cock glistening and wet. Unhesitatingly, she climbed on and straddled his lap, her hand reaching behind to guide the tip of his penis towards her dripping wet opening. She worked his head against her pussy, letting it slide in an inch or so before pausing.

My heart beat was deafening in my ears, my head span and I felt unsteady on my feet but in my head I urged her on. Dan lay back on the bed and Ellen lowered herself further down his shaft until he was all the way in. Dan’s hips wiggled up and down in the little space he had between the bed and Ellen’s thighs. Ellen leaned forward, letting her tits hang down onto Dan’s face. She began rocking back and forward, sliding up and down Dan’s cock. Dan strained his neck as his mouth hung open letting Ellen’s breasts smother his face, his tongue and mouth greedly lapping at whatever they could reach.

He must only have been inside her for 40 seconds when I began to moan and groan, his legs shaking, and fingers tightening, digging into her hips as he came. Ellen’s movements slowed as Dan emptied his load into her. She leant forward and kissed him softly for a minute or two. He lay there helplessly, trapped beneath her. His cock was still inside her, but it was gradually becoming softer.

Ellen climbed off Dan, and bent down to scoop up her clothes. A trickle of cum snaked its way down her thigh. Ellen took my hand and kissed me briefly, a peck on the lips, before giggling and skipping off out the room. As if a spell had been broken, I regained the use of my limbs, and brain, and remembered the task at hand. Dan dressed himself, sheepishly, and joined me over by the wardrobe.

---

The doorbell rang. I peeked out the window and saw an unfamiliar white van parked outside. A rental. It was ‘LancasterDan64’, the eBay user who had won the auction for a wardrobe we had been trying to sell. He told me he’d be here for it at 11am, depending on traffic, and here he was, right on time.

I answered the door to him, immediately offering him a handshake and a ‘hello!’ before beckoning him inside. I was just grateful he had agreed to help me manoeuvre the wardrobe downstairs and out of my house, let alone that he was going to pay for the privilege. The thing was too heavy and cumbersome for me to manage on my own, and although Ellen had offered to help, I think she was overestimating her strength. Luckily, Dan (I’m assuming that’s his name, his eBay handle wasn’t particularly cryptic) had offered to help me move the wardrobe when he arrived to pick it up, and despite his 51 or so years (I’m assuming the 64 in his username referred to his year of birth) he didn’t look like he was lacking in strength.

After the usual small talk (traffic, weather, sports) I took him upstairs and showed him to his new acquisition – one solid oak, brass handled wardrobe. They didn’t make them like this any more. After a brief inspection, he agreed to the purchase, and we set about trying to shift it.

We hadn’t made much progress when Ellen popped her head around the door and asked how we were getting on. “We’re getting there,” I said, as Dan and I both set the wardrobe back down on the floor simultaneously. “Oh, this is my wife, Ellen,” I said to Dan. Ellen took a step into the room and shook Dan’s hand, thanking him for buying the wardrobe, but also for just helping to shift it. The two of them chit-chatted politely about the wardrobe, whilst I, less adept at social niceties, busied myself pretending to be figuring out the next steps in our furniture removal strategy.

Ellen, on the other hand, excelled at this sort of thing. Within 30 seconds of learning somebody’s name she could be totally at ease with them, talking to them as though they were lifelong friends. I loved that about her. Being with her made up for my dearth of any willingness or ability to develop anything other than the bare minimum rapport with strangers. I watched her as she spoke to him, genuinely interested in the things he said to her, and began to think (as I think most men are guilty of) about how she reflected upon me.

She always looked good, of that I had no doubt but today she looked particularly beautiful: Ellen stands at about five feet and four inches tall when she is barefoot, and to look at her petite frame you’d be hard pressed to believe she wears a size 12. She’s blessed with rather large breasts (34FF) and a big, round, bum which adds up to a figure that a lot of women would kill to have. Today she was wearing some skinny black jeans, a white vest, and a pale denim shirt which hung open. Her hair, shoulder length and auburn with a blond ombré which was normally straightened to within an inch of it’s life was today a little tangled and unruly. Her make up, minimal as usual, was perfect, and her soft, pretty face positively glowed as she smiled and laughed along with whatever it was Dan was talking about. And more than this, despite her her short stature, she filled the room – her movements, simultaneously gentle and chaotic; her laugh; her smile; her warmth. Ellen’s presence was unmissable.

‘Yes,’ I thought to myself, ‘I’m doing pretty well’. That is to say that if I was being judged based on my partner’s physical appearance then I think I’m doing ok. I looked from Ellen to Dan, who was stood there clearly mesmerised by my wife. I absent mindedly cast my eyes over him. He’s about 6 feet tall, carrying a few extra pounds, but certainly not overweight. He has a tan, the sort you get from spending a lot of time outdoors but he doesn’t have the look of a builder or gardener, nor somebody who travels abroad a lot, so my guess is that he is retired and just has a lot of time to stand around on golf courses, or fishing. His sunkissed-colour puts him in stark contrast to Ellen, almost ghostly with her alabaster skin.

My eyes flick between the two of them. I offer the occasional “mhmm,” or “yeah,” whilst they talk. My eyes settle on Ellen and I notice her looking at me out the corner of her eye as she is mid-sentence with Dan. There was a momentary twitch in her facial expression as she sees that I have seen her looking, and in that moment, we share a thought. At first I try to pretend I don’t know what she (we) are thinking, but the truth is that I do know – my heart starts pounding a little bit faster. Ellen’s eyes move back towards Dan, her facial muscles resuming their correct, normal-conversation configuration and she continues making polite chit-chat.

Several months previously, in an uncharacteristically forthright conversation about sex, I had admitted to Ellen that it turns me on to imagine her with other men. This admission hadn’t come freely from me. No, it had been wrung from me with great difficulty on Ellen’s part, and great embarrassment on my own. Ellen and I didn’t often talk about sex – we didn’t need to, it was just something we did, which didn’t require much collusion or planning – but on that occasion, fuelled by 2 bottles of wine and the November edition of Cosmopolitan magazine, we broke our silence. I’d stuttered and mumbled my way through a patchy explanation of how sometimes, in certain circumstances, with the correct alignment of the stars, and with an impossible guarantee of no undesirable consequences, I enjoyed imagining her flirting, kissing, and even having sex with other men. Red faced and flustered, I went to great lengths to explain how this wasn’t an indication of any dissatisfaction on my part, and how I thought that this didn’t undermine our relationship, or our love for one another in any way.

At the time my admission had been met with bewilderment, confusion, and tense silence, and I was grateful that she’d not brought the subject up again. Instead we’d resumed our usual routine of ‘do it, enjoy it, and don’t talk about it’. I assumed that enough time had passed that, along with the Cosmopolitan magazine and the bottles of wine, the topic had been consigned to landfill. But that twitch in her face as we shared a fraction of a second of eye contact told me that she hadn’t forgotten. Bottles and magazines didn’t go to landfill, they just get recycled into something new.

Dan and Ellen continued chatting as I looked on. I tried to behave naturally, to continue chipping in to the conversation with my ‘mhmm’s and ‘yeah’s but my throat was dry, and my heart beat was pounding in my ears. There was an almost imperceptible change in Ellen’s posture and movements: she’d inched a little closer to Dan, impinging slightly on his personal space; she pushed her chest a little further out, letting her unbuttoned shirt fall open even more; as she laughed at Dan’s jokes she reached out and slapped his chest playfully.

I don’t know if Dan had also sensed a change in Ellen’s behaviour towards him, but the way he shuffled awkwardly on his feet as she casually picked at her bra strap made me think he had. I can only imagine that he must have felt quite uncomfortable at that moment, trying to figure out the correct interpretation of Ellen’s increasingly unambiguous flirting. Ellen must have known she had him on the back foot when she made her move – she reached out and took Dan’s hand in hers, and placed it on her breast. The tension in Dan’s body was almost audible and as his hand made contact with Ellen’s vest, he flinched and tried to draw his arm back, his eyes darting over to me looking for help (or permission?) and his mouth hanging open, words failing him.

I couldn’t have intervened to help him at this point even if I’d wanted to. My mouth was bone dry, and my body was tingling with… fear? Excitement? I don’t know, but as Ellen tightened her grip on his wrist, and prevented him from pulling his hand off her chest, my heart began to flutter and skip. Dan looked away from me, and focused his attention on Ellen who was massaging her chest against his hand, pushing her boobs into his increasingly receptive hand.

Ellen moved forward and stretch up on her tiptoes, and pressed her mouth against Dan’s. He wasn’t expecting her, and so his mouth hung slightly open, as she kissed him, gently at first, and then deeper, her tongue slipping between his lips. After a few awkward seconds Dan managed to snap out of his trance and he began kissing Ellen back, hungrily, and without any hint of self consciousness. His right hand remained firmly pressed to Ellen’s chest where it groped feverishly at her breasts though her vest and bra. The other hand found it’s way to her waist, where it lingered cautiously, awaiting permission to explore elsewhere.

Then, for the first time, I sense uncertainty on Ellen’s part. Her eyes opened, and she looked me dead in the eye as her mouth opened and closed enthusiastically against Dan’s. I can’t even imagine how I must have looked to Ellen in that moment, but whatever she saw in my face quelled any doubts she had. He eyes closed and she continued kissing Dan, he hands now dragging his on a tour of her body. She guided his hands over every curve and contour of her breasts, hips, and bum. Dan didn’t require much encouragement as his hands began exploring.

Ellen’s own hands began to busy themselves at Dan’s belt buckle, working it undone as she had done to my own on countless occasions.His belt hung open and Ellen’s fingers began to tug at his waistband. She found the button of his jeans and adeptly unfastened it, and slid the zipper down, allowing his jeans to fall open slightly. I felt the faintest hint of a lump in my throat as I saw his boxer shorts, stretched tight by his cock. Ellen giggled a little as she pulled his jeans open further, revealing more of the bulge in his underwear. He shifted his hips from side to side as Ellen eased his jeans down his thighs, letting them reach his knees. I began to feel dizzy and light headed as he hands traced back up his thighs, all the way to his growing bulge.

Her hand came to rest on the bulge in his boxers, her finger tips tracing the silhouette of his shaft and balls.Ellen’s mouth contorted into a big smile as she carried on kissing him, her hand massaging his cock through his boxer shorts. Meanwhile Dan’s hands, in their increasingly uninhibited tour of her chest, and knocked her shirt off her shoulders, so it just hung from her elbows. Dropping her arms to her sides one by one, Ellen let the shirt fall down to the floor, leaving her torso covered just by her vest and bra. Dan then took the lead in pulling the shoulder straps of her bra and vest down her shoulders. Ellen responded by working her arms completely out of the straps.

I don’t know how long I’d been watching them. It didn’t even feel real. I’d have pinched myself to check I wasn’t dreaming, but by this point my whole body was tingling and I felt like if I moved a single inch then I might lose all control. Dan’s hands were now on Ellen’s bum, and her arms reaching up, wrapped around his neck. Her torso rubbed against his as they kissed, passionately and noisily. Her vest and bra were losing the battle against friction and gravity and her boobs tumbled out. They were big, at size 34FF, and in my opinion they had just the perfect amount of sag to them. They hung over the bump formed by her bra and vest bunched up together, and as her body grinded against Dan’s her boobs moved as if independent from her body.

Dan’s hard cock had meanwhile burst loose from his boxer shorts. I couldn’t help but notice that he was a little bit smaller than me, with a thick bush of pubes. His hard shaft pressed against Ellen’s abdomen and left a tiny wet patch of precum on her vest. He pushed his hips forcefully against her, whilst his hands pulled her tight to him.

Finally Ellen broke away from him. He stood there, mouth ajar, blinking morosely with his jeans around his ankles. Ellen pushed him backwards and he sat on the edge of our bed. She hooked her fingers around the waist band of his boxer shorts and pulled them down. She turned to face me, her face flushed and red, her hair tangled and dishevelled. Her boobs spilled out of the top of her vest and bra. She looked me dead in the eye as she bent slightly, and pulled her leggings and panties down in one quick move. She stood upright again, and stepped out of the tangled mess of her leggings. Her pussy was immaculately shaved, except for a patch of wispy brown hair just at the top. She parted her legs slightly, and reached her hand between them. The room was silent, except for the sound of her fingers teasing the lips of her audibly drenched pussy.

She turned away from me, and stretched out a glistening, wet hand and began toying with the head of Dan’s cock. The mixture of her juice, with his pre cum soon had his cock glistening and wet. Unhesitatingly, she climbed on and straddled his lap, her hand reaching behind to guide the tip of his penis towards her dripping wet opening. She worked his head against her pussy, letting it slide in an inch or so before pausing.

My heart beat was deafening in my ears, my head span and I felt unsteady on my feet but in my head I urged her on. Dan lay back on the bed and Ellen lowered herself further down his shaft until he was all the way in. Dan’s hips wiggled up and down in the little space he had between the bed and Ellen’s thighs. Ellen leaned forward, letting her tits hang down onto Dan’s face. She began rocking back and forward, sliding up and down Dan’s cock. Dan strained his neck as his mouth hung open letting Ellen’s breasts smother his face, his tongue and mouth greedly lapping at whatever they could reach.

He must only have been inside her for 40 seconds when I began to moan and groan, his legs shaking, and fingers tightening, digging into her hips as he came. Ellen’s movements slowed as Dan emptied his load into her. She leant forward and kissed him softly for a minute or two. He lay there helplessly, trapped beneath her. His cock was still inside her, but it was gradually becoming softer.

Ellen climbed off Dan, and bent down to scoop up her clothes. A trickle of cum snaked its way down her thigh. Ellen took my hand and kissed me briefly, a peck on the lips, before giggling and skipping off out the room. As if a spell had been broken, I regained the use of my limbs, and brain, and remembered the task at hand. Dan dressed himself, sheepishly, and joined me over by the wardrobe.

---

The doorbell rang. I peeked out the window and saw an unfamiliar white van parked outside. A rental. It was ‘LancasterDan64’, the eBay user who had won the auction for a wardrobe we had been trying to sell. He told me he’d be here for it at 11am, depending on traffic, and here he was, right on time.

I answered the door to him, immediately offering him a handshake and a ‘hello!’ before beckoning him inside. I was just grateful he had agreed to help me manoeuvre the wardrobe downstairs and out of my house, let alone that he was going to pay for the privilege. The thing was too heavy and cumbersome for me to manage on my own, and although Ellen had offered to help, I think she was overestimating her strength. Luckily, Dan (I’m assuming that’s his name, his eBay handle wasn’t particularly cryptic) had offered to help me move the wardrobe when he arrived to pick it up, and despite his 51 or so years (I’m assuming the 64 in his username referred to his year of birth) he didn’t look like he was lacking in strength.

After the usual small talk (traffic, weather, sports) I took him upstairs and showed him to his new acquisition – one solid oak, brass handled wardrobe. They didn’t make them like this any more. After a brief inspection, he agreed to the purchase, and we set about trying to shift it.

We hadn’t made much progress when Ellen popped her head around the door and asked how we were getting on. “We’re getting there,” I said, as Dan and I both set the wardrobe back down on the floor simultaneously. “Oh, this is my wife, Ellen,” I said to Dan. Ellen took a step into the room and shook Dan’s hand, thanking him for buying the wardrobe, but also for just helping to shift it. The two of them chit-chatted politely about the wardrobe, whilst I, less adept at social niceties, busied myself pretending to be figuring out the next steps in our furniture removal strategy.

Ellen, on the other hand, excelled at this sort of thing. Within 30 seconds of learning somebody’s name she could be totally at ease with them, talking to them as though they were lifelong friends. I loved that about her. Being with her made up for my dearth of any willingness or ability to develop anything other than the bare minimum rapport with strangers. I watched her as she spoke to him, genuinely interested in the things he said to her, and began to think (as I think most men are guilty of) about how she reflected upon me.

She always looked good, of that I had no doubt but today she looked particularly beautiful: Ellen stands at about five feet and four inches tall when she is barefoot, and to look at her petite frame you’d be hard pressed to believe she wears a size 12. She’s blessed with rather large breasts (34FF) and a big, round, bum which adds up to a figure that a lot of women would kill to have. Today she was wearing some skinny black jeans, a white vest, and a pale denim shirt which hung open. Her hair, shoulder length and auburn with a blond ombré which was normally straightened to within an inch of it’s life was today a little tangled and unruly. Her make up, minimal as usual, was perfect, and her soft, pretty face positively glowed as she smiled and laughed along with whatever it was Dan was talking about. And more than this, despite her her short stature, she filled the room – her movements, simultaneously gentle and chaotic; her laugh; her smile; her warmth. Ellen’s presence was unmissable.

‘Yes,’ I thought to myself, ‘I’m doing pretty well’. That is to say that if I was being judged based on my partner’s physical appearance then I think I’m doing ok. I looked from Ellen to Dan, who was stood there clearly mesmerised by my wife. I absent mindedly cast my eyes over him. He’s about 6 feet tall, carrying a few extra pounds, but certainly not overweight. He has a tan, the sort you get from spending a lot of time outdoors but he doesn’t have the look of a builder or gardener, nor somebody who travels abroad a lot, so my guess is that he is retired and just has a lot of time to stand around on golf courses, or fishing. His sunkissed-colour puts him in stark contrast to Ellen, almost ghostly with her alabaster skin.

My eyes flick between the two of them. I offer the occasional “mhmm,” or “yeah,” whilst they talk. My eyes settle on Ellen and I notice her looking at me out the corner of her eye as she is mid-sentence with Dan. There was a momentary twitch in her facial expression as she sees that I have seen her looking, and in that moment, we share a thought. At first I try to pretend I don’t know what she (we) are thinking, but the truth is that I do know – my heart starts pounding a little bit faster. Ellen’s eyes move back towards Dan, her facial muscles resuming their correct, normal-conversation configuration and she continues making polite chit-chat.

Several months previously, in an uncharacteristically forthright conversation about sex, I had admitted to Ellen that it turns me on to imagine her with other men. This admission hadn’t come freely from me. No, it had been wrung from me with great difficulty on Ellen’s part, and great embarrassment on my own. Ellen and I didn’t often talk about sex – we didn’t need to, it was just something we did, which didn’t require much collusion or planning – but on that occasion, fuelled by 2 bottles of wine and the November edition of Cosmopolitan magazine, we broke our silence. I’d stuttered and mumbled my way through a patchy explanation of how sometimes, in certain circumstances, with the correct alignment of the stars, and with an impossible guarantee of no undesirable consequences, I enjoyed imagining her flirting, kissing, and even having sex with other men. Red faced and flustered, I went to great lengths to explain how this wasn’t an indication of any dissatisfaction on my part, and how I thought that this didn’t undermine our relationship, or our love for one another in any way.

At the time my admission had been met with bewilderment, confusion, and tense silence, and I was grateful that she’d not brought the subject up again. Instead we’d resumed our usual routine of ‘do it, enjoy it, and don’t talk about it’. I assumed that enough time had passed that, along with the Cosmopolitan magazine and the bottles of wine, the topic had been consigned to landfill. But that twitch in her face as we shared a fraction of a second of eye contact told me that she hadn’t forgotten. Bottles and magazines didn’t go to landfill, they just get recycled into something new.

Dan and Ellen continued chatting as I looked on. I tried to behave naturally, to continue chipping in to the conversation with my ‘mhmm’s and ‘yeah’s but my throat was dry, and my heart beat was pounding in my ears. There was an almost imperceptible change in Ellen’s posture and movements: she’d inched a little closer to Dan, impinging slightly on his personal space; she pushed her chest a little further out, letting her unbuttoned shirt fall open even more; as she laughed at Dan’s jokes she reached out and slapped his chest playfully.

I don’t know if Dan had also sensed a change in Ellen’s behaviour towards him, but the way he shuffled awkwardly on his feet as she casually picked at her bra strap made me think he had. I can only imagine that he must have felt quite uncomfortable at that moment, trying to figure out the correct interpretation of Ellen’s increasingly unambiguous flirting. Ellen must have known she had him on the back foot when she made her move – she reached out and took Dan’s hand in hers, and placed it on her breast. The tension in Dan’s body was almost audible and as his hand made contact with Ellen’s vest, he flinched and tried to draw his arm back, his eyes darting over to me looking for help (or permission?) and his mouth hanging open, words failing him.

I couldn’t have intervened to help him at this point even if I’d wanted to. My mouth was bone dry, and my body was tingling with… fear? Excitement? I don’t know, but as Ellen tightened her grip on his wrist, and prevented him from pulling his hand off her chest, my heart began to flutter and skip. Dan looked away from me, and focused his attention on Ellen who was massaging her chest against his hand, pushing her boobs into his increasingly receptive hand.

Ellen moved forward and stretch up on her tiptoes, and pressed her mouth against Dan’s. He wasn’t expecting her, and so his mouth hung slightly open, as she kissed him, gently at first, and then deeper, her tongue slipping between his lips. After a few awkward seconds Dan managed to snap out of his trance and he began kissing Ellen back, hungrily, and without any hint of self consciousness. His right hand remained firmly pressed to Ellen’s chest where it groped feverishly at her breasts though her vest and bra. The other hand found it’s way to her waist, where it lingered cautiously, awaiting permission to explore elsewhere.

Then, for the first time, I sense uncertainty on Ellen’s part. Her eyes opened, and she looked me dead in the eye as her mouth opened and closed enthusiastically against Dan’s. I can’t even imagine how I must have looked to Ellen in that moment, but whatever she saw in my face quelled any doubts she had. He eyes closed and she continued kissing Dan, he hands now dragging his on a tour of her body. She guided his hands over every curve and contour of her breasts, hips, and bum. Dan didn’t require much encouragement as his hands began exploring.

Ellen’s own hands began to busy themselves at Dan’s belt buckle, working it undone as she had done to my own on countless occasions.His belt hung open and Ellen’s fingers began to tug at his waistband. She found the button of his jeans and adeptly unfastened it, and slid the zipper down, allowing his jeans to fall open slightly. I felt the faintest hint of a lump in my throat as I saw his boxer shorts, stretched tight by his cock. Ellen giggled a little as she pulled his jeans open further, revealing more of the bulge in his underwear. He shifted his hips from side to side as Ellen eased his jeans down his thighs, letting them reach his knees. I began to feel dizzy and light headed as he hands traced back up his thighs, all the way to his growing bulge.

Her hand came to rest on the bulge in his boxers, her finger tips tracing the silhouette of his shaft and balls.Ellen’s mouth contorted into a big smile as she carried on kissing him, her hand massaging his cock through his boxer shorts. Meanwhile Dan’s hands, in their increasingly uninhibited tour of her chest, and knocked her shirt off her shoulders, so it just hung from her elbows. Dropping her arms to her sides one by one, Ellen let the shirt fall down to the floor, leaving her torso covered just by her vest and bra. Dan then took the lead in pulling the shoulder straps of her bra and vest down her shoulders. Ellen responded by working her arms completely out of the straps.

I don’t know how long I’d been watching them. It didn’t even feel real. I’d have pinched myself to check I wasn’t dreaming, but by this point my whole body was tingling and I felt like if I moved a single inch then I might lose all control. Dan’s hands were now on Ellen’s bum, and her arms reaching up, wrapped around his neck. Her torso rubbed against his as they kissed, passionately and noisily. Her vest and bra were losing the battle against friction and gravity and her boobs tumbled out. They were big, at size 34FF, and in my opinion they had just the perfect amount of sag to them. They hung over the bump formed by her bra and vest bunched up together, and as her body grinded against Dan’s her boobs moved as if independent from her body.

Dan’s hard cock had meanwhile burst loose from his boxer shorts. I couldn’t help but notice that he was a little bit smaller than me, with a thick bush of pubes. His hard shaft pressed against Ellen’s abdomen and left a tiny wet patch of precum on her vest. He pushed his hips forcefully against her, whilst his hands pulled her tight to him.

Finally Ellen broke away from him. He stood there, mouth ajar, blinking morosely with his jeans around his ankles. Ellen pushed him backwards and he sat on the edge of our bed. She hooked her fingers around the waist band of his boxer shorts and pulled them down. She turned to face me, her face flushed and red, her hair tangled and dishevelled. Her boobs spilled out of the top of her vest and bra. She looked me dead in the eye as she bent slightly, and pulled her leggings and panties down in one quick move. She stood upright again, and stepped out of the tangled mess of her leggings. Her pussy was immaculately shaved, except for a patch of wispy brown hair just at the top. She parted her legs slightly, and reached her hand between them. The room was silent, except for the sound of her fingers teasing the lips of her audibly drenched pussy.

She turned away from me, and stretched out a glistening, wet hand and began toying with the head of Dan’s cock. The mixture of her juice, with his pre cum soon had his cock glistening and wet. Unhesitatingly, she climbed on and straddled his lap, her hand reaching behind to guide the tip of his penis towards her dripping wet opening. She worked his head against her pussy, letting it slide in an inch or so before pausing.

My heart beat was deafening in my ears, my head span and I felt unsteady on my feet but in my head I urged her on. Dan lay back on the bed and Ellen lowered herself further down his shaft until he was all the way in. Dan’s hips wiggled up and down in the little space he had between the bed and Ellen’s thighs. Ellen leaned forward, letting her tits hang down onto Dan’s face. She began rocking back and forward, sliding up and down Dan’s cock. Dan strained his neck as his mouth hung open letting Ellen’s breasts smother his face, his tongue and mouth greedly lapping at whatever they could reach.

He must only have been inside her for 40 seconds when I began to moan and groan, his legs shaking, and fingers tightening, digging into her hips as he came. Ellen’s movements slowed as Dan emptied his load into her. She leant forward and kissed him softly for a minute or two. He lay there helplessly, trapped beneath her. His cock was still inside her, but it was gradually becoming softer.

Ellen climbed off Dan, and bent down to scoop up her clothes. A trickle of cum snaked its way down her thigh. Ellen took my hand and kissed me briefly, a peck on the lips, before giggling and skipping off out the room. As if a spell had been broken, I regained the use of my limbs, and brain, and remembered the task at hand. Dan dressed himself, sheepishly, and joined me over by the wardrobe.

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