Bill often gives me massages when I’m feeling stressed. He isn’t a professional, but he knows how to stroke me in a way that I crave. Nice and firm and hard. We always fuck after the massages, when I’m feeling loose and completely relaxed. Sometimes, he talks to me about what it would be like if another man was touching my skin. The thought has always turned me on. Still I was surprised when he suggested that I let another man massage me.
“A professional?”

He shook his head. “I don’t mean hire one. But I was wondering how you’d feel if I asked Joe to join us.”
Joe is a friend of Bill’s from college. He was the best man in our wedding, and he’s been over at our house hundreds of times—to watch football, play poker and barbecue in the backyard. But he’d never seemed at all interested in me.
“He’s dying to give you a rubdown,” Bill said.

“Just a rubdown?”
“Well . . . ”

I swallowed over the lump in my throat. Joe is one good-looking guy. What if I got turned on when he touched me? Would I be naked? How far did Bill want to go?

Bill seemed to sense all of the questions rustling through my head. “We’ll only do what you feel comfortable with,” he promised me. “I won’t push.”

“Please, push.” My pussy was wet at the thought. So wet. I grabbed Bill’s hand and brought it between my legs and into my panties so he could feel for himself.

“Jesus, Tonya,” Bill sighed, doing just what I’d asked—pushing his fingers up into my pussy. “You’re drenched.”
I didn’t know what to say. He was right. The thought of another man rubbing me all over had me heated in an instant. We fucked like fiends merely at the plan of what we were going to do, and then Bill called up Joe and set a date.

For the rest of the week, I was in a near-constant state of arousal. I turned myself on when I walked across a room. All I had to do was think of Joe touching me, and I was gone, off to la-la land. But there was more to my fantasies than the thought of Joe touching me. I wanted Bill to be in the room, too, and I didn’t only want him to watch. There was something wildly wicked about the thought of having my man and his best friend touch me all over, their big hands on my body . . . see that’s all it would take for me to have to rush to my room and spend a few quality minutes with my favorite vibrator.

When Friday evening finally arrived, I was a quivering mass of desires and nervous energy. Bill set everything up in our bedroom. We don’t have a professional massage table, so he covered our bed with soft terry-cloth towels. Then he lit candles, set out a bottle of champagne and three glasses, and told me to take a shower. I almost made myself come beneath the steamy spray, but I decided to restrain myself. Waiting would make the climax more powerful—and I could tell it was going to be a big one.

I slid on my red silk robe and entered our bedroom, where Bill and Joe were already waiting for me. As soon as I saw Joe, I felt myself getting even more excited. Here was the first man who was going to touch me since Bill and I got married. I felt practically virginal. And like a virgin, I didn’t know what to do first. At Bill’s suggestion, we each had a few sips of champagne. The bubbles immediately made me feel giddy.

“Honey, lie down on the bed,” Bill said softly. I removed the robe, and felt the boys’ eyes on me as I walked to the bed and lay on my stomach. My whole body was alive with little crackles of electricity, and when both Bill and Joe joined me there, I had to suck in my breath to keep from moaning. Nobody had even touched me yet! My imagination was clearly running away with me. I’d envisioned the experience to the point that I almost felt their touches already. But I hadn’t.
When Joe put his big hands on my back, I sighed.
“That’s right,” he said. “Relax. Let us take care of you.”

Us. Bill joined in next, working his hands along my calves and the backs of my thighs. Together, they actually gave me a massage. I’d been wondering whether the word was simply a euphemism for “threeway.” Honey, I’d like a man to massage you could be misconstrued as Honey, I’d like a man to fuck you. And I have to admit, even though the massage was genuinely relaxing, I started to feel a little let down. Were they only going to rub me the way a professional would?

Then things took a turn for the erotic. Bill moved up so he could run his fingertips between my legs. He started to slowly tease my pussy with every few strokes. First, he’d work my thighs, then he’d tickle my clit, before going back to stroke my calves. I began to hum under my breath, my body starting to move on its own accord, hips rising when I sensed in the rhythm that it was time once more for a pussy stroke.

To my great delight, Joe began to get in on the action. Bill left off massaging completely, and started to finger-fuck my pussy. And Joe moved on the mattress so he could easily caress my asscheeks and gently pull them apart, exposing my asshole. Maybe it was the glass of champagne I’d had, or the week of fantasy play, but I was the one to take things to the next level. I got up on my haunches and spread my legs, and in a second, Bill had slipped under my body so we could sixty-nine. He licked and slurped at my dripping pussy while I got his cock between my lips.

But where was Joe? Joe was using the massage oil now to lube up my rear hole. He began to finger my backdoor while my husband ate me out. When I was begging for release, Bill pulled his mouth from my pussy and said, “Joe. Do her now. She’s ready.”

Joe got behind me and slid his cock deep inside my pussy with the first, powerful thrust. I was so pleased when Bill didn’t move. He kept licking my clit as Joe pounded into me, and I got off for the first time of the evening like that—Joe in my pussy and Bill sucking my hot button. I practically collapsed on top of Bill, but regained my decorum quickly. I didn’t want the night to end so fast.

With an effort, I pushed up and told Bill to swivel around. He moved so we were in the missionary position, with me on top.
“I’ve always wanted to try a DP,” I said, and Bill got that look in his eyes, the look of total bliss. He must have shot Joe a silent command, because Joe pulled out of my pussy and Bill’s cock replaced his.

Then my husband parted my ass­cheeks with his hands, opening me up for his friend. I held entirely still as I felt Joe’s cock slip into my backdoor. Oh, heaven! Joe was a gentleman. He allowed me to process the sensation before he began to truly fuck me. The two boys worked together in tandem, slipping me back and forth between them, and soon I was in a state of constant coming—one climax tripping the next, until my body felt as if it were spiraling in never-ending spasms of pure pleasure.

Joe came next. My ass was milking his cock good and hard, and he ground his hips all the way against my booty and filled me up with his come. Bill must have felt his buddy’s orgasm from the inside; he came a beat after, so that I was sealed between the two men and filled with their spend.

What a moment of ecstasy! We all lay there, connected, for several seconds before pulling apart. We took a shower together and then headed to the hot tub for a soak under the stars. What happened there continued our evening of explorations, but that’s fodder for a future letter.

Ms. Tonya W.,
Arcadia, California