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It was a lazy Saturday afternoon, the kind where the hours blend together and you barely notice the time passing. Peter had invited Roman over to watch the big match—some championship game between teams I could barely tell apart. I tried, really, I did. I sat next to them on the couch at first, feigning interest while sipping from my glass of wine, but after fifteen minutes of offside calls and beer-fueled shouts, my patience wore thin.
I gave Peter a kiss on the cheek and slipped away. “Be right back,” I said casually.
They didn’t even turn their heads.
I smiled to myself as I padded down the hallway, already feeling wicked. I knew Roman had always had a thing for me—subtle glances, quiet compliments, the way he’d always find a reason to hug a little too long. But what really excited me? The way Peter watched him. Not with jealousy, exactly… more like curiosity. Hunger. Admiration. That deep, secret wanting he could barely admit even to himself.
I peeled off my lounge pants and pulled on a pair of soft, pastel cotton shorts—the kind that cling just enough to show the curve of everything. PINK, in big letters across the butt. Juvenile? Maybe. Effective? Absolutely. I added a loose, white camisole, thin enough that I didn’t bother with a bra. My nipples pressed lightly against the fabric, and I adjusted it so just the edge of my underboob peeked out when I moved the right way.
I paused at the bedroom mirror and smiled. I looked like trouble. Good.
Back in the living room, Roman noticed me first. He went quiet, eyes trying to play it cool while absolutely devouring me. I pretended not to notice at first and just sat down, right between them. My bare thigh brushed Peter’s jeans; I leaned forward just enough for Roman to get a perfect view down my shirt. He glanced, looked away, then looked again.
Peter, bless him, tried to keep his attention on the screen, but I caught his eyes following Roman’s.
That’s when the little spark in me turned into a full-on flame.
After a few more boring passes on the screen, I rolled my eyes. “Ugh, I’m tired of watching this game. The blue team is losing anyway.”
Roman chuckled. “You don’t even know who’s playing.”
I smiled wickedly. “Don’t need to. I’ve got a better game in mind.”
Peter raised a brow, amused. “Oh yeah? What’s that?”
I stood up slowly, tugging my shorts up a little higher. “It’s simple. Whoever has the biggest dick gets the attention.”
Roman choked on his beer.
Peter blinked. “Wait, what?”
“You heard me,” I said, hands on hips, pretending to be innocent. “You both drop your pants. Whoever’s bigger gets a blowjob. Easy.”
Peter’s face went red, his mouth opening like he wanted to protest but didn’t know how. He glanced nervously at Roman, who just grinned and raised an eyebrow.
“I mean,” Peter said, swallowing hard, “I… I guess…”
“Unless you’re scared,” I teased, turning toward Roman.
Roman shrugged and stood up, already unbuckling his belt. “I like games.”
I looked over at Peter. “You in, babe?”
He hesitated—but only for a moment. Then he gave a tiny nod. My pulse quickened.
Both of them dropped their pants. Roman first. I tried not to gasp, but… damn. Even soft, the guy was packing. Thick, long, heavy-looking. Peter had nothing to be ashamed of—he was nicely average. But next to Roman? It was like comparing a wine bottle to a soda can.
Roman glanced down at Peter’s dick and smirked. “Unless you’re a grower, I think I’ve got you beat, buddy.”
Peter looked down, then up at me. His cheeks burned with embarrassment, but I saw something else in his eyes too—arousal. That hungry, aching tension I’d seen so many times when he’d kneel beside me after Erik left.
I gave him a wink. “Well, a game is a game.”
I dropped to my knees in front of Roman, cupping his heavy cock as it started to stiffen in my hand. I felt Peter shift behind me on the couch, his breathing quickening. I didn’t look at him just yet. I wanted him to watch.
My lips wrapped around the head of Roman’s cock, and I felt him throb. He let out a soft groan, his hand gently resting on my head. I moved slowly, teasingly, as he grew thicker in my mouth.
Then I glanced back at Peter. He was stroking himself through his jeans, eyes wide.
“Don’t deny it, babe,” I murmured, pulling back for a second. “You’re turned on by how much bigger he is, aren’t you?”
Peter’s jaw worked. “I…”
“What?” I teased, licking the tip of Roman’s cock. “Say it.”
“Ye… ye-yes,” he stuttered. “I am.”
Roman grinned. “Come kiss her.”
Peter hesitated, then moved down next to me. I could feel the tremble in his hands as he leaned forward. Roman kept a hand on my head, guiding me gently as I took him deeper, then looked down at Peter.
“I want you to taste me on your wife’s lips.”
Peter’s eyes flicked up to me. I pulled back slowly, letting Roman’s cock slip from my lips with a wet pop. Then I leaned in and kissed Peter full on the mouth—hungry, wet, messy. His tongue explored my mouth, tasting everything I’d just given to someone else. He whimpered against me.
Roman moaned louder now, his fingers tightening in my hair. “Fuck…”
I knew what was coming—literally. I turned back to him, opened wide, and took him deep one last time.
Hot, thick streams filled my mouth. I swallowed greedily, licking him clean.
“Give him the cuckold kiss,” Roman said, voice heavy and low.
I turned to Peter, smiled, and kissed him again—this time holding his face still while I forced my tongue into his mouth, sharing every last drop.
He moaned into me, helpless and hard.
Roman chuckled, tugging his pants back up. “We’ll be in the bedroom. Round two’s about to start.”
I turned back to Peter and whispered in his ear, “You can stroke while you listen, baby. Maybe next time… you can help.”
Then I stood, grabbed Roman’s hand, and led him down the hall.
