This is the second part of a three part series, I’m not trying to tell you what to do but the first part would be a great place to begin.
Evan stood on the porch with his fist still half-raised from knocking, and when the door swung open, the first thing he noticed was that Meghan looked better in person than she had in any photo. The second thing he noticed was that his hands were shaking, which was a new experience for a man who’d never lacked for confidence.
“Hi,” he said. Then, brilliantly: “I’m here.”
Meghan laughed — warm, musical, the kind of laugh that put a man at ease while simultaneously letting him know he was being evaluated. She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him, and Evan felt every curve of her body through the thin summer dress. She held on a beat longer than polite required.
“I’m so glad you came,” she said, and the word came hung in the air like a piano key struck and left to resonate.
Sal appeared behind her, clapped Evan on the shoulder. “Hey, man. Burgers are almost on. Let me go check the grill.” And just like that, he disappeared through the sliding glass door, leaving Evan standing in the foyer with his coworker’s stunning wife.
And here’s what you need to understand about Meghan: she was not a woman who beat around the bush. Not about dinner reservations, not about school pickups, and certainly not about getting something she wanted. She wanted Evan. She’d wanted him since the picnic, if she was honest — since he’d hugged her hello with those big arms and that stupid grin and she’d thought, oh, that’ll do.
She leaned against the kitchen counter, arms crossed loosely, and looked at him. “Sal said he talked to you. Told you what I’d love to find.”
“He did.”
“I wanted to ask you directly: is that even something you’d entertain? I know I’m older than you, and I know it’s strange, knowing Sal and all. If this is just a regular dinner between friends, that’s what it’ll be, and we’ll never speak of it again. Or we can get the tension out of the way right now and go with it.” She tilted her head. “Your choice.”
Evan exhaled. “Actually, Meghan — I love your body. I’ve had a crush on you for a while. Since the picnic, honestly. But Sal… you know. He’s my friend. I didn’t want to go there.” He paused. “But I’d love to get to know you in that way.”
She smiled. Slow. Satisfied. “Good. Then it’s settled.”
She crossed the distance between them in two steps, sank to her knees right there on the kitchen tile, and reached for his belt.
Evan’s brain short-circuited.
She pulled his pants and boxers down in one efficient motion, and his cock sprang free — thick, heavy, soft but clearly substantial. Meghan wrapped her hand around it and smiled up at him with the kind of reverence a woman reserves for exactly one thing. She weighed it in her palm, stroked it twice, then leaned forward and took the head into her mouth.
Evan made a sound that wasn’t quite a word.
She sucked him slowly, letting her lips drag along the shaft, feeling him thicken and lengthen against her tongue. She pulled off after a few minutes — this wasn’t the main event, just an audition — and gave him a few more slow strokes, running her hand from the tip down to the base and back up again.
“Yes,” she said, looking up at him with shining eyes. “I think this will very much do.”
Evan, who had never in his life been at a loss for words, said: “Yeah. I’m very intrigued.”
Meghan pulled his pants back up, patted him once on the hip, and stood. She was smoothing her dress when the sliding door opened and Sal walked back in carrying a plate of burgers.
He looked at his wife. He looked at Evan. He looked at his wife again. “Did the two of you get acquainted?” he asked, grinning.
“Yeah, babe.” Meghan didn’t miss a beat. “I took his pants down and looked at his beautiful cock in all its glory. You really brought something magnificent over tonight, Sal. Thank you.”
Sal’s mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. He wasn’t shocked — not exactly — but he hadn’t expected his wife to have already gotten that far in the four minutes he’d been at the grill. He blinked, processed, and landed on something that looked like pride mixed with the specific vertigo of a man watching his fantasy become real.
“Well,” he said. “I guess that’s settled.”
They all laughed. Sal gave Evan an awkward fist bump, and Evan bumped back, and they both grinned at each other like idiots who’d just agreed to something that would change everything. Which they had.
The burgers were excellent. Sal had a gift for the grill — one of the few arenas where his size didn’t matter. They ate on the patio, talked about work, about Evan’s lacrosse days, about the kids’ school schedule. Normal dinner conversation, if you ignored the fact that Meghan kept resting her hand on Evan’s thigh under the table and Sal kept watching her do it with a look of quiet, devoted approval.
After dinner, Sal suggested the pool.
“Should we do suits?” Evan asked.
Sal looked at Meghan. Meghan looked at Evan. “No suits,” Sal said.
The three of them stripped down on the patio, and if Evan had been wondering whether the office jokes were accurate, the answer was now standing at full attention in the cool evening air. But what became immediately, unavoidably apparent was the difference between the two men. Evan, thick and heavy even soft, hanging between his thighs like a promise. Sal — modest, thin, the kind of penis that looked perfectly normal until it was placed next to one that wasn’t.
The pool water was cold, which did neither of them any favors, but even shriveled and swimming, the contrast was stark. Sal, to his credit, called it out first.
“Nice cock, man,” he said, dog-paddling near the edge. “That’s gotta be eight inches when it’s hard.”
The sentence landed in the night air like a brick through a window. Evan and Meghan looked at each other and burst out laughing — not cruel laughter, but the helpless kind that comes when reality outstrips anything you could have rehearsed.
Meghan swam toward Evan, water lapping at her collarbone, and looked back at her husband. “Why don’t you come find out, love?”
Sal blinked. “What do you mean?”
She said it again, slower. “Come suck on it. Show him you want him to fuck me.”
She turned to Evan. “Is that okay with you?”
Evan swallowed. “Uh. Yeah. I think so.”
Sal’s face went through several expressions in rapid succession. “I don’t think that’s what I had in mind for how tonight would go.”
Meghan’s voice dropped half an octave. “Come suck your friend’s big cock, Sal.”
She didn’t shout. She didn’t need to. The instruction landed with the weight of certainty, and Sal — who had spent fourteen years learning that his wife’s pleasure was his compass — moved forward through the water.
He didn’t want to. He did want to. Both things were true at once, and the tension between them was the most honest thing he’d ever felt. Shame prickled at him — not the shame of kneeling before his friend, exactly, but the shame of wanting to. Of becoming an active participant in his own displacement. Acknowledging that his wife was unsatisfied, and now proving it with his mouth.
You shouldn’t feel this kind of shame, he told himself, and then he took Evan’s cock into his mouth.
He wasn’t very good at it. His teeth scraped, his rhythm was off, and he could barely take more than a few inches. But it didn’t matter. What mattered was the act itself — the submission of it, the devotion — and the fact that within a minute, Evan was hard as a rock, his big cock jutting out thick and flushed, glistening with Sal’s saliva.
Meghan watched from the water, her hand between her legs. “Okay,” she said, breathless. “Now I want you both to sit on the edge of the pool. Let’s compare what you’re working with.”
They climbed out and sat side by side on the tiled edge, water dripping off their bodies. Evan’s cock stood straight up, thick and veined, the head dark and swollen. Sal’s small, thin penis stuck up beside it like a pale afterthought.
Meghan floated between their knees, looking up. “I think we see a difference here, don’t we?”
Sal swallowed. “Yes.”
“Now, Sal — I want you to tell him to fuck me. Because you are too small to satisfy me.” She said it gently, like she was asking him to pass the salt. “Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“Say it.”
Sal looked at Evan. Evan looked back, jaw tight, trying not to react. “Evan,” Sal said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Fuck my wife. I’m too small to satisfy her.”
Meghan’s eyes glittered. “Repeat it.”
“Evan, fuck my wife. I’m too small to satisfy her.”
“Good boy.”
Evan slipped into the water and into Meghan in one fluid motion. She gasped, her head falling back, her legs wrapping around his waist. The water served as lubricant, but she was so wet on her own that it barely mattered. Sal watched from the pool’s edge, his small penis painfully hard, tugging at it absently as he watched his friend’s big cock slide in and out of his wife.
She came three times. The first was quick and sharp — a gasp, a clench, a shudder. The second was slower, deeper, building from somewhere in her core until her whole body trembled. The third made her legs shake — the same quivering, uncontrollable trembling from Barbados, the kind that Sal had never been able to produce and now got to witness up close.
Finally, Evan groaned, his hips stuttering, and came inside her. Deep. Meghan held him close, her nails digging into his shoulders, whispering yes, yes, yes against his neck.
They separated slowly. Meghan climbed out of the pool and sat on the top step, the bottom of her body still submerged, but her pussy exposed — swollen, red, leaking cum. She looked down at herself, then at Sal.
“Come over here, baby. Come fuck my messy pussy.”
Sal didn’t think twice. He slid off the edge and waded to her, positioning himself between her thighs. His small cock slid in easily — too easily — and he thrust in and out, chasing sensation that he could barely feel. The warmth, the wetness, the fullness of her — it was gone, stretched open by someone bigger, and all that was left was heat and slip and the most exquisite inadequacy he’d ever felt.
Meghan looked up at him with love in her eyes. “Babe, I can barely feel you after he’s been inside me.” She touched his face. “No wonder we needed a little help, don’t you think?”
He nodded. Kept thrusting. A couple more, he thought. A couple more—
He came. Hard. A gasp, a shudder, and he emptied himself into his wife, adding his small contribution to the mess between her legs. He pulled out, panting, and looked down at the result: his wife’s swollen pussy, leaking two men’s cum, beautiful and obscene.
“Good boy,” Meghan said softly. “Now get down and clean me up.”
Sal looked at her. Looked at Evan, who was still standing in the pool, watching. Then he lowered his face between his wife’s thighs and licked. The taste was warm and salty and unfamiliar — sharp and musky where his own was mild — and he lapped at it dutifully, swallowing, cleaning, worshipping. Meghan ran her fingers through his hair and held him there until she was satisfied.
After, Meghan sent Sal to get towels. He brought three, and they dried off in the warm night air, the three of them standing naked on the patio under the stars like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Inside, they arranged themselves on the couch — Meghan in the center, a man on either side, a blanket draped over all three of them. Some movie played on the TV that no one was watching. Evan’s hand rested on her thigh. Sal’s arm was around her shoulders. She leaned into her husband and pressed her leg against her bull, and the smile on her face was the kind that comes from having everything you want within arm’s reach.
“This is kind of heaven, guys,” she said aloud. “One for love, one for lust.”
Evan kissed her shoulder. Sal squeezed her hand. Nobody said anything else for a while.
Sal stared at the screen, his wife warm against his side, his friend’s hand on her leg, and he knew — with the bone-deep certainty of a man who had finally found his place — that this would not be the last time Evan was invited over.
Not even close.
