1st Time LIstening

Saturday night was the first time I was asked to leave the bedroom so that Mindi and her Black lover could be alone. It was a first for us, raw and unexpected—and such a ferocious turn-on that I could barely stay upright. What made that night unbearably hot was the soundscape behind the closed door: some things seared into clarity, others left to dark, maddening imagination.

Marcus was visiting for the second time with Mindi and me. He was 53 years old, a man of experience and undeniable presence, recommended by another couple who spoke of him in tones tinged with reverence and envy. On his first visit, we shared a three-way—and an unusually frank, no-holds-barred discussion afterward about our cravings, limits, and unspoken desires. He was a gentleman, but not soft. There was something regal and commanding in the way he moved, spoke, and stared—an effortless authority on his tall, muscular frame that filled our doorway like a storm front. On that first night, Mindi had thrown herself eagerly onto his thick 8-inch cock, ravenous. Between then and now, she and Marcus had exchanged a handful of emails—warm, flirtatious, secretive. In hindsight, I think they’d arranged for what was about to happen.

When Marcus arrived, we shared a bottle of wine, but the way he looked at Mindi, the slow deliberate drag of his gaze across her curves, made the alcohol irrelevant. He exuded calm hunger. Then, with deliberate ease, he took her hand and led her to our master bed. She didn’t hesitate. As they began kissing and groping one another with deep, urgent familiarity, I sat quietly in the reading chair, cock already stiff in my pants, the crystal glass trembling in my grip. I wanted to stroke my hard 4″ cock right then and there, but I forced myself to wait—knowing I’d cum far too soon if I gave in.

Mindi was ablaze with need. She tore her clothes off, practically glowing as she pressed herself against Marcus’s broad chest. She wrestled with his belt and zipper like an eager addict until finally his cock sprang free, thick and veiny and already oozing. Mindi gasped aloud, an involuntary “cooohhh” that sounded half-religious.

“You’re on fire tonight, Mindi… mmm, yeah,” Marcus rumbled, kissing her deep, slow, possessively. Then he leaned in and whispered something I couldn’t catch.

“Andy… we want to be alone tonight. OK, honey?” Mindi’s voice was soft, but it cut through me like a dagger dipped in honey.

I stiffened. My body language must’ve betrayed me—my frown, the slight clench of my hand on the wine glass. We had never played apart. Ever since last May, we’d done everything together: clubs, threesomes, kink nights, private hotel meets. She had never left me behind.

“Andy, remember our talk last week? About pushing boundaries…” she said, not looking away from Marcus.

“I’ll take good care of her,” Marcus said, deep and calm, his voice wrapped in velvet menace. “Why don’t you listen at the door?”

I wanted to say no. I wanted to walk in and demand to be part of it. But instead, I whispered, “OK… but you need to tell me everything afterward. Like we agreed.”

“Mindi?” I asked louder. She hadn’t even looked back. Her head was resting on Marcus’s chest, her fingers now slowly stroking the base of his throbbing cock. A fat drop of precum glistened on the tip like nectar.

“OK…” she finally murmured, eyes still locked on nothing, lost in trance.

I grabbed my wine and a few pillows, throat dry and cock twitching, and took my place behind the door. The wood barrier became my entire universe.

For the first twenty minutes, I heard only the sounds of arousal: moaning sighs, low murmurs, wet kisses, a sudden slurp that made me twitch. My hand drifted down. I fondled my small balls and began stroking my cock, painfully aroused, imagination painting the filthiest pictures in that silent darkness.

Then Marcus’s voice rang out, clear and deliberate.

“Kneel on this pillow.”

Silence followed—hot, pulsing silence. I bit down on my knuckle, cock straining. I pictured Mindi on her knees, mouth open, her lips brushing that huge, dark head.

Suddenly, the silence cracked.

“Augghk, aughk, splffff… aaaaah, ummphh—it’s too much!” she choked, her voice half-muffled by what I knew had to be his entire length down her throat.

“Let me fuck your face, Mindi… you’re almost there… that’s a good girl… take it all, mmm yeah…” Marcus’s voice was sinfully calm. Patient. Dominant. He was coaxing her like a man training an obedient pet, and my sweet fiancée—my tiny, tight 24-year-old—was gagging and choking under his cock, her submission raw and brutal.

Her cries didn’t stop. Gag after gag, wet and desperate.

“Aukkmmphh… auukkk… uhhuhhh…”

“Lay back on the bed. Head over the edge.” Marcus again—cool, firm, in control.

I heard shifting. Then nothing. Then:

“Relax… that’s it… ohhhh yeah… oh fuck yes… that’s so fuckin’ good…” His voice dropped into a growl.

The bed began to creak. Not wild bouncing—just a steady, deliberate rhythm, like he was driving into her throat with calculated depth, each thrust harder than the last. My balls drew up tight. I couldn’t stop jerking off.

“She’s taking him in the throat,” I thought, breathing hard. “He’s fucking her like a toy and she’s just letting him…”

Then Marcus roared.

“Oh fuck YEAH! Oh yeah, oh yeah, oh YEAH—TAKE IT, SLUT!”

I heard it—the unmistakable wet, guttural sound of him cumming deep in her throat. The room went quiet after that. Long quiet. I lay there with my spent cock in hand, trying to catch my breath. Eventually, I must’ve dozed off on the couch.

In the morning, I peeked into the bedroom.

Mindi was curled up in Marcus’s arms, her head resting on his flat stomach, mere inches from his soft cock. Her hands cradled his massive, relaxed balls like she was still protecting them. His arm lay across her back, palm cupping her ass, one thick middle finger buried lazily in her stretched-out asshole, holding her to him like a lover or a trophy.

I withdrew, made breakfast quietly. Soon they emerged, still glowing. Mindi kissed his cheek. Marcus grinned, warm and brief.

He barely had time for coffee.

In the shower, I asked Mindi softly, “Are you OK?”

“Yes, of course, Andy,” she said sweetly, but distantly. “Remember what we talked about? I’ll tell you everything tonight… just us.”

When Marcus left, he kissed her hard. Then shook my hand.

“Don’t forget to talk to Andy,” he said with a wink.

I cleaned up. Then went to join Mindi in the shower. The bedroom reeked of sex. I hadn’t noticed earlier, but now the air was thick with it—coppery, musky, pungent. A huge wet spot stained my side of the bed.

In the shower, Mindi was sweet and playful. We washed one another, kissed, touched. When I gently soaped her pussy and ass, she flinched slightly. I knew she was sore. My heart pounded.

We spent the day in a haze. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Finally, that night, it was our time.

In bed, I lay back, legs splayed, arms behind my head. Mindi sat beside me, her fingers wrapping delicately around my now-soft cock. She didn’t stroke. Just held. Teased. Featherlight brushes over the head, my balls, my shaft.

“You’ve been amazing through all of this,” she whispered. “Joan and Bob were right—you’re the kind of man who understands.”

She leaned down. Kissed my neck. Murmured in my ear.

“Marcus was incredible. I submitted to him completely. I couldn’t let go with you watching… I hope that’s OK.”

“It’s OK, honey. But I was scared,” I admitted.

Still teasing, she smiled.

“Do you want to know what happened? Really?”

Her nails trailed under my balls. I nodded breathlessly.

“You know Marcus took my ass last night…” she cooed, breath tickling my chest. “Look.” She rolled over, spreading her cheeks. Her asshole was raw, red, still slightly gaping. “He came in there, too,” she added.

Mindi has never let me take her that way.

My hips bucked. I begged.

“Suck me. Please.”

“No, no. Remember our rule.” Her voice sharpened slightly. “When I tell you about my dates, I stroke. Only.”

Her fingers resumed—soft circles on my balls, brushing my slit. Not enough. Never enough.

“Marcus made me his slut. You know that, right?”

“Yes,” I groaned. “I heard. And you wanted it?”

“Wantonly is a better word,” she said. “You liked it, didn’t you? Listening to your little Mindi get face-fucked?”

“Yes… please let me cum…”

“Soon, baby. Soon…” She leaned in closer, whispering now. “Do you remember the party? What Joan told us?”

I nodded frantically. My cock pulsed in her teasing hand.

“Why is Bob so attentive to Joan?”

“Because… he’s denied. He’s cut off. He can’t… he can’t penetrate her,” I panted.

“Do you want that?” she hissed. “Do you want to be denied?”

I exploded. Cum shot up in a violent arc, splattering hot across my belly and face. My whole body spasmed.

“I thought so…” she whispered, proud and possessive.

“We start right now.”