Clearing up an old machine and finally find this, following on from Part 1 https://www.swingingheaven.co.uk/stories/fact/watched-with-his-wife-part-1-2

The air shifted the second J stepped in.

Emma didn’t even flinch. She just kissed me harder, like now she had an audience, she was all in. It wasn’t the kind of kiss you give someone you’re still deciding about. It was full of want. Full of permission. And something in her body language had changed, too - she wasn’t just aroused, she was performing. But not for me. Not just. She wanted him to see this.

She leaned in close, lips brushing my ear. “He likes it when I don’t hold back,” she whispered. “He gets off on seeing me fucked properly.”

My hand was already between her legs again - warm, wet, completely unashamed. She was soaking through her shorts and grinding against my palm like we’d been meeting and practising this for weeks and not just the first meet after the party last week!

I slid two fingers inside, slow and firm, and felt her tighten around them. She bit her bottom lip and let out a quiet gasp - not fake, not performant - just real, primal need.

My mouth found her tits again, this time rougher, more deliberate. She arched up into me, whispered again, voice lower now.

“I want you to fuck me like I’m yours… but while he watches me take it all.”

Another gasp as I pressed my fingers deeper.

“I want him to see how wet I get when someone actually takes their time.”

She was moaning now - not loud, but raw. Filthy. And the words just kept coming.

“Tell me I’m a cock-hungry little slut. Tell me I’ve been teasing you since we met last week. Tell me you’ve been dying to see how tight I’d be around your cock.”; and of course, she insisted I was audible enough for the audience!

Her hips rolled with every word, as if her body was answering them.

J still hadn’t moved. Just watching, eyes locked on her.

I stood, slid my hands under her thighs and lifted her gently to the sofa - she opened her legs without hesitation, like we’d done this a hundred times. I pulled her shorts off slowly, kissed her stomach, then lower. Her pussy was glistening - bare, pink, and aching for attention.

I didn’t rush it. My mouth hovered just over her clit and she shuddered - a needy, involuntary shake.

She reached down, ran her fingers through my hair and hissed, “Don’t tease. Just eat me.”

And I did. Long strokes. Deep tongue. The kind of rhythm that pulls noises out of someone they don’t even know they make. She was grinding, panting, calling my name, then his. And when I slid up and pushed inside her, her whole body tightened, like she’d been waiting for that one moment.

I didn’t go slow. Not now.

Every thrust pulled a sound from her lips, and her words turned dirtier, messier.

“Harder… make me cum while he watches.”

“Let him see me dripping all over your cock.”

“Show him what he’s been missing by holding back.”

She looked up at me, eyes wild, and whispered one more thing.

“Fill me if you want… I’ll deal with the mess.”

And behind her, J finally shifted. No words. No protest.

Just watching.

And maybe, I thought, just maybe - wishing it was him.