Ache

"What?" she asked you as you watched her pull her satin dress down over her garter belt and stockings.

"N...nothing," you mumbled, looked down.

"Hon..."

"Nothing, really," you lied.

"You said you were good with this," she said.

"I...I know...I am," you said, "you just...you look...you look so incredible, I just..."

"I want you to spend the night with him, you said, if he's your boyfriend, he should expect it. That's what you said."

"I...I know," you answered, part of you regretting what you said, but another part of you excited beyond any excitement you felt before, just hearing her say the word, boyfriend, driving you wild.

She looked at your crotch with a sad, sympathetic look. "You miss it, don't you?"

"S...some," you said. "I mean, before he...before you were boyfriend/girlfriend, at least...at least we'd...sometimes."

"He warned you...us," she said, "when we first met him."

"I...I know," you swallowed. It seemed so exciting then, somehow hopeful, far off. If we start dating exclusively, it will be exclusive. 

Meaning? You asked.

Meaning casual sex is one thing, he said, but if we actually start dating I'll expect exclusivity.

We've never done this, of course it would be exclusive, I told him.

He smirked. Meaning no one else fucks her. No one.

No one? I gasped.

No one.

I felt my penis swell, or try to, knowing it couldn't in the small cage, knowing it wouldn't, not ever, not while he was in our lives. "I...I just..."

"Come here, kiss me," she said. "Gentle, just a peck." She lifted the hem of her dress, again exposed her lingerie. "Just a peck," she said, pointing at her panties, "a promise of later when he brings me home."

I knelt down before her, felt myself shaking, leaned forward.

"Just a peck," she said, touching my forehead, "if you want more later, just a peck now."

"Angela," I moaned.

"It's his love, it's his now, your wife's pussy is his now. Just a peck."

I leaned forward, put my lips on her pussy, inhaled as they touched her panties.

"When...when will you be home?" I asked.

She lowered the hem of her dress, shrugged. "I assume we'll have brunch," she said.

"Ang..."

"I promise."

"Promise?"

"After brunch, I promise to fuck him right before he brings me home."

"Will you...change?"

She looked down, smiled, shook her head. "No," she said, "no, love. It will be a walk of shame, a brunch of shame. You'll get me just like this, just like I am now...I mean...except filled with him, my panties wet and messy from him."

"Ang...I...I don't know if I can..."

"Shhhh," she said, touching my face, "you can, you know you can. It's better this way, clear roles, expectations set of who does what."