Special Ways

She had asked you chill and bring them a bottle of wine so it was half an hour or more after your wife and her boyfriend had been in the bedroom. You foolishly assumed they were talking, waiting for the wine. You knocked, thought you hear her tell you to come in, but opening the door, it was clear your ears had deceived you and they had no idea you had knocked.

Seeing them, you couldn't help but stare. He wasn't just fucking her, that you accepted, but seeing him kiss her, seeing him play with her breast, seeing her leg up, her hand on his face, you realized they weren't fucking, they were making love.

You backed out of the room quietly, spent the next several hours hiding in the basement until he left and she found you.

"Why are you down here in the dark?" she asked, standing before you, a pink robe wrapped around her.

"I...I don't know," you lied. 

"You saw us, didn't you?" she asked.

"Megan...you...he...that wasn't sex," you said.

"Oh it was sex," she said, a slight snicker.

"It wasn't just sex," you said, "he was...you were...kissing and..."

"I thought I heard the door open," she said, biting her lip.

"You were...he was...you were...making love," you said.

"It's not love," she said, reaching for you.

"What is it then?" you asked.

She frowned, bit her lip. "It's...I don't know..."

"We haven't...you won't let me...we don't...it's been months and...and he..."

"It hasn't been months," she said.

"Megan!"

"I mean...it's been months since we did that, yes, but it hasn't been months since we've been intimate."

"Not like that," you said.

She looked down. "No, not like that," she agreed, "but...but in our special way."

You blushed, glanced at her, blushed deeper, looked away. "Megan," you said.

She bit her lip again. "He just left," she said, "and...and we did it again and...and I thought you'd like...you know..."

"Megan," you said, not looking up.

You saw her undo her robe; she was naked, it dropped to the floor. "I...I can't hold it much longer," she said, "it's too much."

"M...Megan..."

"If...if you don't want to, I understand, I just...it...I thought you like to..."

"Megan," you said, voice weak.

"There's a place for both of you," she said, "a special place for both of you to have me in your own way. I care about both of you...differently...please...hurry before it...before I..."

"Megan," you whispered, watched her as she took a step towards you, climbed on the couch, hovered over your mouth. 

"Please, honey, please, there's so much I can't hold it."

"Megan," you said, eyes closed now, lips parted.

As she lowered herself to your mouth, you smelled the scent, musk, animal, raw, sex, saw her trim hair, her lips coated. At first you tasted her wetness, her, the sweet, musky taste of her pussy, but then the crust, tiny bits of him. But then, as your tongue touched her lips, she relaxed and thick gobs dripped from her pussy, more and more, and you licked it and swallowed it, slowly and reluctantly at first, then quickly and eagerly.

Later, as you cuddled, her hand wrapped around your erection, not stroking, not teasing, just holding, you asked. "Do...do you love him?"

She didn't answer for a good minute, clearly thinking. "It's not love," she finally said, "but it's not nothing."

"Do I...need...need to worry?"

"No," she said, "no. He...I...I need this...from you...I want this...from you...it...it's important...more important..."

"He was making love to you."

She nodded. "You...you both have your special way."