Fantasy of my wife having a threesome with two other men

Fantasy of my wife having a threesome with two other men, sex stories, loving wife, We’re driving through my wife’s old town when we pass a restaurant named “Carlos O’Kelly’s.” The name always stood out to me. And as I’ve been doing for the last hour, I make a dumb comment, “it’s your favorite place, right?”

“No.” She says. “I mean, I’ve probably eaten there at some point….”

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Of course she’d eaten there at some point; Carlos O’Kelly’s is a national chain, they serve Mexican food, her favorite. I’d been there with her once myself, albeit at a different location. I was about to tease her about it when I got a different idea. I’d been driving for a couple of hours, closing out a week of visiting family all over the state. I was horny as fuck. There’s no sex without privacy (privacy from family, anyway). So Carlos O’Kelly’s, well, in my head this becomes the two names it naturally is anyway, and a sexual fantasy begins to form.

“Carlos and O’Kelly,” I say, “I thought you loved those guys.” I regret saying it after it comes out of my mouth; it’s too subtle. I always try to be dirty with her, but I overthink it. Dreaming about women is an old pastime of mine, but she tells me she rarely fantasizes at all. I’ve got a whole harem of women in my head, and she never has anyone. I haven’t figured out how to play with her in this way, though every now and again she surprises me.

“As long as there are margaritas involved,” She replies to me with a grin, “I’m up for anything.”

Well, hold the bus. I think my wife just volleyed the innuendo back into my court! A momentous occasion! My imagination took immediate license to fantasize on her behalf. Before I knew it, I imagined the whole synopsis. Needless to say, this did not resolve my horny state of being. After running through several different scenarios, I brought it up again.

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“That Carlos O’Kelly thing has got me all hot and bothered. Keep thinking about you with a couple of margaritas in your hand dancing around.”

“Oh?” She says, “Tell me more.”

With some notable exceptions, my wife is fairly straight-laced in real life, and as I said doesn’t fantasize much at all, but she does enjoy a peek at the naughty exploits I craft for us. I look in the back seat. Both our kids are asleep. Should I say more now? Should I risk them waking to hear some lewd story about their mother? No, it’s not worth the risk. I may have a perverted mind, but I can still be a responsible father. I mention my reservations, and we speak no more of it.

Our conversation shifts to other, less arousing topics. I find this terribly disappointing, but such is the nature of responsibility. However, in every lull, in every silence, there she stood, in the forefront of my mind, shaking her hips, arms raised above her head with a margarita in each hand. And she was not alone.

For a while, I debated with myself whether she was already naked. Or, maybe, they could undress her later, as part of the narrative? That’s how these things go, you imagine possibilities, and from them choose what you deem lascivious. Of course, this becomes difficult when you ask, will my wife be turned on? But at some point, you just have to have faith that in writing it all down, in sharing the fantasy, she will appreciate becoming privy to such an intimate set of thoughts.

So, I say, she’s already naked. She’s shaking her hips, drinking from both glasses at once just to be goofy, spilling some down around her cleavage. Carlos dances with her. He’s still in his swim trunks, his neck decorated with my wife’s undone bikini top. Who knows where her bottoms ended up, they’re not around anywhere. How long ago had she taken them off?

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My wife has this habit when she dresses that she puts on her bra first, then her underwear. Similarly, when she undresses for the night, the bra is the last item she removes. I didn’t discover this behavior till we were married, and it’s always amused me. I work it into the backstory: Perhaps they have played a game, and Carlos and O’Kelly have won. My wife is tipsy and happy. She lost her bottoms; she lost her top. She likes that she lost, losing provided her the rationale she needed to kickstart this risqué adventure.

Still driving down the road, I decide I simply must share this with her. First chance I get I’ll write it all down. She’ll think it’s fun. Personally, I’m now hoping to get a blowjob out of it. Fantasies within fantasies.

Let’s say O’Kelly is the quiet man, and the gregarious Carlos takes the lead. He takes a shot of tequila, presses a lime to his lips, then grasps my wife about her moving hips and leans in to kiss her. Carlos is good looking and well built. He is an easy man to kiss. His will is strong, and my wife puts up only a token defense. Carlos knows what he’s doing, and after relaxing into his kiss, my wife knew she would give him whatever he asked.

She collapses into the strength of his kiss, and the grip of his embrace, but then, in hunger, she kisses back. Carlos is too slow, too romantic, and my wife has strong lips of her own. She kisses him boldly, and they massage their lips together in larger and larger circles.

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But then, from behind, O’Kelly has reached out and begun to kiss the back of her neck. Surprised at first, she tilts her head back. Carlos rises above her, his lips still pressed against hers, he kisses now with the advantage, and my wife submits to his lead. Her knees buckle a little, and she leans back against O’Kelly, who supports her while running his tongue around the vertebrae of her neck. Carlos presses her into a sandwich. She feels compressed, out of control but contained.

They haven’t touched her sex yet, but she is wet. Her hands drift down Carlos’s body, stopping at his waistband. She began to think: “Why do they still wear clothes? Don’t they know I’d suck their cocks?”

This thought surprised her though–sucking cock–sucking two cocks! At the same time? She must be drunk. She must be exceptionally horny. She felt itchy to be naughty. “I might even take it up the butt,” she thought, something she’s never done before, even with me. She grew excited when she realized she was about to have her first threesome. Then, for the first time, she thought of me. “He’ll be so impressed with me…if he’s not too jealous!”

Hands ran across her bosom, lifting her breasts, cupping, massaging. She couldn’t tell whose hands they were, but I know first hand her tits are generous and tasty. I love watching her play with them in front of me; I love it when she flashes me. But until you’ve played with her tits yourself you can’t know how damn arousing they are.

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