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“As far as you want,” I said. “I’ll be right here.”
She kissed me once more, hard, and climbed off my lap.
She walked to the sofa in her lace and heels and stood in front of Ross. He looked up at her like a man looking at a sunrise. She took his face in both hands and kissed him, slow at first and then deep, and I watched my wife’s tongue slide into my best friend’s mouth.
My cock was aching. I undid my jeans to give it room.
Ross’s hands found her hips, then her arse, squeezing. She straddled him on the sofa, exactly the way she’d straddled me, and ground down on him. He groaned out loud.
“Take it off,” she told him, tugging his shirt. He did. Then she reached behind her back and unhooked her bra, and Ross made a noise like he’d forgotten how to breathe as her tits fell free.
He sucked her nipple into his mouth. Fiona threw her head back and looked at me upside down, her hair hanging, her mouth open.
“Cal,” she moaned. “He’s so hard. I can feel him.”
She slid off his lap onto her knees. She unbuckled his belt with shaking hands, opened his jeans, and pulled out his cock. It was thick and flushed, bigger than she’d guessed, judging by her face. She looked back at me, wide-eyed, asking.
I nodded.
She wrapped her hand round it and stroked once. Ross shuddered.
“I want him to fuck me,” she whispered. “Can I?”