Good fishing
I remembered a story that happened last summer. My husband, his friend, and I decided to go fishing. We planned for the evening bite with the possibility of staying overnight. We took our gear, bait, food, a tent, and drove off in a minibus. I should say, I really enjoy male company, attention, compliments, and I had liked my husband's friend for a long time. I had all sorts of thoughts, but I probably wouldn't have dared to do anything more than just think if it weren't for an accident. Of course, I made eyes at Sergey whenever my Oleg wasn't looking—it was such a turn-on. A whole evening and night in the company of men, I was practically drooling standing next to them.
The bite was pretty good, fish
were biting, we started cooking fish soup over the fire, and I also baked pike with vegetables on the coals. In the fresh air, our appetites kicked in, we ate everything and drank some cognac. The blood was pumping, we sat by the fire for a long time, telling tall tales, but eventually, it was time to settle down for the night. My husband rearranged the seats in the car, making a decent bed, though it would have been better for two, but we made do without hard feelings. Of course, my husband didn't put me in the middle; he lay down himself, with me on one side and his friend on the other. We covered ourselves with two blankets.In the middle of the night, I'm sleeping and feel a hand on my ass. I think, "What a time to get frisky," but I started pressing my butt against him and rubbing against his erect penis. Somehow, when it's forbidden, you want it even more. Things escalated further; he pulled down my pants along with my panties—we were sleeping in our clothes. He started making his way under my T-shirt to my breasts and caressing my nipples. The worst part was not being able to move, or else my husband would wake up and it would all be ruined.
His rock-hard cock was searching for an entrance and kept trying to go in the wrong place. I reached my hand down, guiding it into my vagina, and suddenly I clearly realized it wasn't my husband's penis. I don't know how Sergey ended up next to me—maybe one of them went out for a smoke and crawled back in, lying down in the wrong spot. But the fact remained: it wasn't my husband fucking me, and I didn't even have time to get scared. An overwhelming passion swept over me and knocked all sense out of me. I quickly slid onto Sergey's cock and whispered, "Fuck me!" And that's exactly what he started doing. I was a little worried about not making too much noise, since everything was so wet. Very soon, I exploded. Sergey squeezed me and came too. We quickly adjusted our clothes, and he quietly opened the car door and went out for a smoke.
Then I feel a hand on my ass again. This time, my husband decided to stake his claim on me. He moved closer, hugged me, started nibbling my ear and groping me. Then, in one swift motion, he pulled down his pants and mine and thrust deep into me. His intensity turned me on, and I started moving my hips to finish faster. I slipped my hand down and started stroking my clit. The orgasm hit us both at the same time, and my vagina clenched around his cock, refusing to let go. Sergey came back in and lay down to sleep, while we lay there for a long time. Then my husband pulled out his pride, I pulled up my pants, and satisfied with such a catch, I fell asleep. In the morning, I kept glancing at my husband—it seemed he hadn't noticed the betrayal. I'd love to go on another fishing trip like that!