I was the one who started it. The idea didn’t just pop into my head; it had been living there, breeding, for months, a filthy little seed that grew hotter and bigger every time my husband fucked me. It finally spilled out of my mouth one night, my face buried in a pillow, his body slamming into mine from behind.I want to watch you.His rhythm didn’t even break. He just let out a breathy laugh, a soft puff of air against my neck. “Watch me what, baby?”I clenched around his cock, making him groan, and turned my head to the side so he could hear me clearly. “I want to watch you fuck someone else. Right in front of me. While I sit there and play with my fucking pussy.”His thrusts slowed, then stopped. The bed creaked as he pulled back to look at me. “You’re joking.”“No.” I met his stare, my eyes wide, my cunt throbbing with the sudden absence of him. “I’m not. I want to see it. I want to see you make a woman squirt. I want to watch it happen.”It took time. Weeks of me whispering it to him in the dark, my hand sliding down my own stomach as I described it in filthy detail, my voice husky with a need he’d never heard before. He was hesitant, worried it was a test. But I knew this fucker. I knew the dirty thoughts he kept locked down tight. And I knew he’d eventually give in.So we planned it. I told him exactly who to text. His ex. I knew she’d say yes. I remembered the way she used to look at him, a little too long, a little too hungry. I knew she missed his cock.When she showed up at our door, all nervous smiles and wide eyes, my stomach did a wild flip. Nerves. Excitement. A fucking flood between my legs. I guided her to our bedroom, my heart hammering against my ribs.I took my seat in the armchair in the corner, a spectator to my own deepest fantasy. My legs were shaking. I pressed my thighs together, feeling the dampness already seeping through my cotton shorts.He started slow. A kiss. It was weird, seeing his mouth on someone else’s. But it was also… electric. His hands slid down her back, over the curve of her ass, and he pushed her gently back onto the bed. Her eyes were closed, her lips parted.The second his fingers hooked into the waistband of his own jeans, I moved. I shimmied out of my shorts, then my panties, letting them fall to the floor beside the chair. The air felt cool on my bare skin. I didn’t look away from them as I spread my legs just a little, letting my fingertips glide through my wetness.God, I was soaked.He was naked now, his cock hard and jutting out from his body. He knelt between her legs, and instead of pushing inside her right away, he teased her. He rubbed the head of his dick against her clit, slow circles that made her back arch off the mattress. A soft, desperate sound escaped her throat.I moaned too, low and quiet. My fingers found my clit, circling it in time with his movements. Watching. Just watching.When he finally sank into her, it was with one smooth, deep thrust. Her moan wasn’t soft anymore. It was a sharp, gasping cry that ripped through the room and went straight to my core. My fingers pressed harder, moving faster.I thought jealousy would claw its way up my throat. It didn’t. All I felt was a dizzying, all-consuming heat. I was mesmerized by the sight of his hips, the powerful drive of them as he fucked her, his grip tight on her thighs, holding her open.“Make her squirt,” I whispered. My voice was shaky, barely audible over the sound of skin slapping against skin. But he heard me. His eyes flicked to mine for a split second, dark with lust and concentration, before he drove into her harder, deeper.I could see her coming apart. Her legs were trembling, her heels digging into the sheets. Her moans became incoherent, just his name, over and over, broken and pleading.And me? I was right there with her, my own orgasm coiling tight in my belly, a live wire about to snap. My pussy was gushing around my fingers, a sloppy, wet mess. I was so close, just from watching.He fucked her like it was his only purpose, chasing the thing I’d begged him for. Her body went rigid, her mouth open in a silent scream for a heartbeat before the sound finally tore out of her.And there it was.A hot, sudden gush, a shimmering arc in the lamplight. She screamed, a raw, release-filled sound that pushed me right over the edge. My own cry got lost in hers as I came, my body convulsing in the chair, my vision spotting.The room fell into a heavy, breathless silence, punctuated by our ragged panting.I sat there, my hand still between my legs, dripping. I watched him slowly pull out of her. I looked at her, blissed-out and spent on my bed. The air was thick with the smell of sex and sweat and us.My heart was still pounding, a wild, frantic drum against my chest. I didn’t know what to do. The fantasy had ended right there. But the night didn’t feel over.I’m torn. Do I just sit here, satisfied? Or do I get up… cross the room… and let her taste me on my husband’s cock?

The idea of watching my husband fuck someone else finally came out of my mouth, and it was his ex that I chose. We planned it and she came over, and I watched as he fucked her, and I watched her squirt. After it was over, I was left wondering if I should just sit there, or if I should get up and let her taste me on my husband's cock.

I was the one who started it. The idea didn’t just pop into my head; it had been living there, _breeding_, for months, a filthy little seed that grew hotter and bigger every time my husband fucked me. It finally spilled out of my mouth one night, my face buried in a pillow, his body slamming into mine from behind.

_I want to watch you._

His rhythm didn’t even break. He just let out a breathy laugh, a soft puff of air against my neck. “Watch me what, baby?”

I clenched around his cock, making him groan, and turned my head to the side so he could hear me clearly. “I want to watch you fuck someone else. Right in front of me. While I sit there and play with my fucking pussy.”

His thrusts slowed, then stopped. The bed creaked as he pulled back to look at me. “You’re joking.”

“No.” I met his stare, my eyes wide, my cunt throbbing with the sudden absence of him. “I’m not. I want to see it. I want to see you make a woman _squirt_. I want to watch it happen.”

It took time. Weeks of me whispering it to him in the dark, my hand sliding down my own stomach as I described it in filthy detail, my voice husky with a need he’d never heard before. He was hesitant, worried it was a test. But I knew this fucker. I knew the dirty thoughts he kept locked down tight. And I knew he’d eventually give in.

So we planned it. I told him exactly who to text. His ex. I knew she’d say yes. I remembered the way she used to look at him, a little too long, a little too hungry. I knew she missed his cock.

When she showed up at our door, all nervous smiles and wide eyes, my stomach did a wild flip. _Nerves. Excitement. A fucking flood between my legs._ I guided her to our bedroom, my heart hammering against my ribs.

I took my seat in the armchair in the corner, a spectator to my own deepest fantasy. My legs were shaking. I pressed my thighs together, feeling the dampness already seeping through my cotton shorts.

He started slow. A kiss. It was weird, seeing his mouth on someone else’s. But it was also… _electric_. His hands slid down her back, over the curve of her ass, and he pushed her gently back onto the bed. Her eyes were closed, her lips parted.

The second his fingers hooked into the waistband of his own jeans, I moved. I shimmied out of my shorts, then my panties, letting them fall to the floor beside the chair. The air felt cool on my bare skin. I didn’t look away from them as I spread my legs just a little, letting my fingertips glide through my wetness.

_God, I was soaked._

He was naked now, his cock hard and jutting out from his body. He knelt between her legs, and instead of pushing inside her right away, he teased her. He rubbed the head of his dick against her clit, slow circles that made her back arch off the mattress. A soft, desperate sound escaped her throat.

I moaned too, low and quiet. My fingers found my clit, circling it in time with his movements. _Watching._ Just watching.

When he finally sank into her, it was with one smooth, deep thrust. Her moan wasn’t soft anymore. It was a sharp, gasping cry that ripped through the room and went straight to my core. My fingers pressed harder, moving faster.

I thought jealousy would claw its way up my throat. It didn’t. All I felt was a dizzying, all-consuming heat. I was mesmerized by the sight of his hips, the powerful drive of them as he fucked her, his grip tight on her thighs, holding her open.

“Make her squirt,” I whispered. My voice was shaky, barely audible over the sound of skin slapping against skin. But he heard me. His eyes flicked to mine for a split second, dark with lust and concentration, before he drove into her harder, deeper.

I could see her coming apart. Her legs were trembling, her heels digging into the sheets. Her moans became incoherent, just his name, over and over, broken and pleading.

And me? I was right there with her, my own orgasm coiling tight in my belly, a live wire about to snap. My pussy was gushing around my fingers, a sloppy, wet mess. I was so close, just from watching.

He fucked her like it was his only purpose, chasing the thing I’d begged him for. Her body went rigid, her mouth open in a silent scream for a heartbeat before the sound finally tore out of her.

And there it was.

A hot, sudden gush, a shimmering arc in the lamplight. She screamed, a raw, release-filled sound that pushed me right over the edge. My own cry got lost in hers as I came, my body convulsing in the chair, my vision spotting.

The room fell into a heavy, breathless silence, punctuated by our ragged panting.

I sat there, my hand still between my legs, dripping. I watched him slowly pull out of her. I looked at her, blissed-out and spent on my bed. The air was thick with the smell of sex and sweat and _us_.

My heart was still pounding, a wild, frantic drum against my chest. I didn’t know what to do. The fantasy had ended right there. But the night didn’t feel over.

I’m torn. Do I just sit here, satisfied? Or do I get up… cross the room… and let her taste me on my husband’s cock?

A married woman's long-held fantasy becomes a reality when she convinces her husband to fuck his ex-girlfriend in front of her.

She watches as her husband performs, her own arousal building as she pleasures herself.

The woman's desire to see his ex squirt is fulfilled, sending both her and the ex into a frenzy of pleasure.

I told my husband to fuck his ex and make her squirt for me

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