Husband Turns Gay: Chapter 2

Abstract: The 2nd of 16 chapters.
Amy sets out to make David's MMF porn fantasy a reality.
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Amy lounged against the kitchen island the next morning, nursing a mug of black coffee. David's confession had unlocked something primal between them, turning their usual quickie into a marathon of confessions and touches. The taste of his cum lingered in her memory—salty, forbidden—as he'd lapped it from her fingers, eyes locked on hers with a mix of reluctance and hunger. It had been hot, dirtier than she'd expected, and it set the tone for what came next.

Friday evening arrived as they dressed for dinner at that hole-in-the-wall Italian place downtown, the one with checkered tablecloths and candles that flickered like bad omens. Amy chose a slinky black dress that hugged her curves, no bra, the fabric whispering against her nipples with every step. David looked sharp in slacks and a button-up, his beard trimmed just enough to look intentional.

Over plates of fettuccine alfredo that steamed in the humid air, conversation flowed easy—her upcoming Tokyo run, his latest shipment fiasco—but Amy's mind was on the ritual, the way David's eyes had lingered on her cleavage all week, hungry for more than pasta. She waited until the wine had loosened their tongues, swirling her glass as the waiter cleared plates.

"So, I've been thinking about our threesome fantasy," she started, voice low to cut through the restaurant's murmur. David's fork paused mid-air, interest sharpening his gaze and said "Oh?" She leaned in, her foot sliding up his calf under the table. "There's this guy on my crew. Troy. Tall, slender, puts together outfits like he's walking a runway—stylish as hell, handsome in that sharp-jawed way. Flight attendant, international routes with me." David set his fork down, leaning forward. "Troy? What about him?" Amy took a sip, savoring the moment. "He's got the hots for me, no question. Hits on me constantly—winks during safety demos, brushes my arm in the galley, all in front of the crew. I play it off as fun, but it's flirty as fuck." She watched David's reaction, as his eyes widened.

Amy continues, "What surprises me? He's effeminate. Soft voice, gestures like he's in a rom-com. I swear, I think he's gay—or at least bi. The way he eyes the pilots sometimes..." She trailed off, letting it hang. David's breath hitched, his hand finding hers across the table, thumb stroking her knuckles. "And?" "And," she continued, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial purr, "I've been fantasizing about him in our bed. You, me, Troy—tangled up, no holds barred. Him kissing you while I suck you both. Would you like that honey? Me exploring him as our third?"

The words hung heavy, the restaurant noise fading to a buzz. David's face flushed under the candlelight, but his grip tightened, excitement crackling in his eyes. "Fuck, Amy... yeah. Hell yeah. He sounds perfect—hot, but not some meathead. I'd love watching him with you... touching me." His voice was rough, arousal threading through it like smoke. She smiled, slow and wicked, her foot now teasing higher, brushing his inner thigh.

Amy said "To find out if he's game though, I might need to test the waters. Sleep with him on the layover, see if he's into it—for real. Sex during travel, you know how it is. Tight quarters, long nights." David's jaw clenched, a flicker of hesitation crossing his face—jealousy? Possession? But then he nodded, slow at first, then firmer. "Okay... okay with me. If it means bringing him home to us, do it. Just tell me everything after." His cock was probably straining against his slacks now, she could tell by the way he shifted. Amy's pussy throbbed at the agreement, the power of it surging through her. "Deal. But tonight? We're celebrating."

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Amy unlocked the front door with a fumble, the buzz from the wine and the charged dinner conversation making her fingers clumsy. David pressed against her back, his hands already sliding up her sides, thumbs grazing the undersides of her breasts through the slinky black dress.

They stumbled inside, kicking off shoes in a haphazard trail, the door slamming shut behind them. Troy. The name hung between them, a promise wrapped in possibility, and Amy's pulse thrummed with the thrill of it. She'd test the waters on her next layover, bring him back here, watch David's hesitation melt into something raw and real. For now, though, it was just them, the heat building like a slow fuse.

David caught her wrist, pulling her toward the bedroom with a growl low in his throat. "I need you now." Amy laughed, a sharp, breathless sound, and let him lead. The bedroom light was on from earlier—harsh and unflinching, casting long shadows across the unmade bed where they'd tangled just days ago, his confessions spilling out amid gasps and grips. She remembered the way he'd admitted his porn habits, the bisexual clips that got him hard, and how it had shifted something between them. No more secrets; just this electric hunger.

They collapsed onto the bed in a heap of limbs and fabric, David's mouth finding hers in a kiss, his hands roamed, bunching her dress up her thighs, fingers digging into the soft flesh there. Amy arched into him, her nipples peaking against the dress's whisper-thin material, begging for attention. She broke the kiss, nipping at his lower lip. "Strip me," she commanded, her voice husky, and he obeyed without hesitation, peeling the dress over her head in one fluid motion. No bra, as planned—just her bare skin, flushed and ready, pussy already slick with anticipation.

David's eyes darkened as he took her in, his cock tenting his slacks visibly. She pushed him back, straddling his lap, grinding down against the hard line of him. "Tell me," she whispered, her hands working his buttons open, exposing the warm plane of his hairy chest. "What do you want with Troy? Paint the picture for me, David. Make it dirty." Her fingers trailed down, unzipping him, freeing his dick—thick, hairy, and veined, already leaking at the tip.

She wrapped her hand around it, stroking slow and firm, feeling it twitch in her grip. David groaned, his head falling back against the pillows, hips bucking up into her touch. "God, Amy... I want him sucking me off while you ride my face. His mouth on my cock, hot and wet, taking me deep." His words came out ragged, spurred by her rhythm, the way she twisted her wrist just so. "And me... fuck, I'd kiss him, taste you on his lips. Then I'd bend him over, slide into his ass while you watch, or maybe he takes me—pins me down, fucks me slow until I'm begging."

Amy's breath hitched, her pussy clenching at the image, the way his fantasies echoed those porn clips she'd glimpsed on their shared computer—the ones with men tangled in sweaty, urgent threesomes. She leaned down, her breasts brushing his hairy chest, and licked a stripe up his neck. "Yeah? You want his dick in you, stretching you open? Him grabbing your hips, pounding until you come untouched?" David's nod was frantic, his free hand cupping her ass, fingers slipping between her cheeks to tease her entrance. She moaned, rocking harder against his thigh now, her strokes on his cock turning slick with his precum.

The air thickened with their shared breaths, the scent of arousal sharp and heady. Amy pulled back suddenly, sliding off him with a wicked grin. "Wait here. I've got something for you." David propped himself on his elbows, dick bobbing against his stomach, confusion flickering in his eyes. She rummaged in the nightstand drawer—the one stuffed with lube and toys they'd collected over years of vanilla experiments—and pulled out the strap-on. Black silicone, girthy and realistic, veined just like his own cock. She'd bought it on a whim after his confession, imagining this exact moment, and now it felt like fate uncoiling.

David's eyes widened as she stepped into the harness, buckling it tight against her hips. The dildo jutted out, obscene and inviting, the base pressing right against her clit with every shift. "Holy shit," he breathed, sitting up fully, a mix of shock and raw want crossing his face. Amy sauntered back, the harness's straps biting into her skin just enough to heighten the sensation. "Surprise, baby. If you're fantasizing about Troy's cock, let's make it real. On your knees."

He hesitated for a split second, the room's harsh light catching the flush creeping up his neck, but then he slid off the bed, kneeling on the rug before her. The position put him eye-level with the dildo, his breath ghosting over the silicone tip. Amy threaded her fingers through his hair, guiding him forward. "Suck it. Pretend it's him—tall, slender Troy, with that sharp jaw and soft voice, feeding you his dick."

David's lips parted, tentative at first, tongue flicking out to taste the cool material. Then he took it in, hollowing his cheeks, sucking with a hunger that made Amy's clit throb against the harness. "Fuck, yes," she murmured, watching him bob his head, saliva glistening on the shaft. His own cock hung heavy between his legs, untouched but leaking steadily onto the floor.

She tightened her grip, fucking his mouth shallowly, the motion grinding the base against her pussy in delicious friction. "Imagine it's Troy's—him moaning your name, his hands on your shoulders, pushing deeper. You love it, don't you? Sucking a man off while I watch." David hummed around the dildo, the vibration sending sparks through her, his eyes locking on hers with a glazed intensity. He took more, gagging slightly but pushing through, his free hand instinctively reaching for his dick before she slapped it away. "No touching. Just take it like a good boy." The words spilled out, and something shifted in his gaze—vulnerability cracking open to reveal the heat beneath.

Amy's mind raced back to their bed talks, the way he'd admitted his porn cravings, the bisexual pull he'd hidden for so long. This was it, unraveling him thread by thread. She pulled out with a wet pop, strings of his spit connecting his lips to the tip. "Admit it, David. You're bisexual. You want cock—want Troy's, want to feel it." He knelt there, chest heaving, lips swollen and shiny, his dick twitching with need. "I... yeah," he rasped, voice thick. "I'm bisexual. Fuck, I am." The confession hung there, freeing, and Amy's smile turned sharp. "My little gay boy," she purred, the term slipping out derogatory and teasing, laced with affection.

David's breath stuttered, his cock jerking visibly, a bead of precum dripping to the rug. He liked it—fuck, he loved it—the way it stripped him bare, made him hers in this twisted, hot way. "Say it back. Tell me you're my gay boy." "I'm your gay boy," he echoed, the words muffled with lust, his hands clenching at his sides to keep from stroking himself. Amy's pussy ached, slickness coating her thighs now, the power surging through her like electricity.

She grabbed the lube from the nightstand, squirting a generous amount onto the dildo, stroking it until it gleamed. "Bend over the bed. Ass up for me." David scrambled to comply, knees on the floor, torso draped over the mattress, his ass presented like an offering. The light caught the curve of his back, the tension in his muscles.

Amy took a generous amount of lube, and applied it to his hairy hole, inserting one finger, then two, then three as David moaned with pleasure. Amy took a moment to admire him—her husband, exposed and eager, the man who'd confessed his dirtiest secrets just to chase this high.

She pressed the tip of the dildo against him, slow and insistent, watching it breach him inch by inch. David groaned, deep and guttural, his fingers twisting the sheets as she sank deeper. The harness rubbed her clit perfectly with each thrust, building her own pleasure alongside his. "Take it, gay boy," she said, starting a rhythm—shallow at first, then deeper, the slap of her hips against his ass filling the room. He was tight, clenching around the silicone, but he opened up, moaning her name like a prayer.

"Fuck, you're so deep," he gasped, rocking back to meet her, his cock trapped against the bed, smearing precum on the duvet. Amy gripped his hips, nails digging in, pounding harder now, the creative fury of it all—imagining Troy here, joining in, turning this into the threesome they'd craved.

She leaned over him, breath hot on his neck. "You love this, don't you? Getting fucked like a slut." "Yes—fuck, yes." His voice cracked, body trembling. She reached around, finally wrapping her hand around his dick, stroking in time with her thrusts. He was rock-hard, pulsing, so close already. "You fucking faggot" she said. "Admit it. You're a dirty little faggot." The term hit him like a spark to dry tinder—David's whole body seized, a whine escaping his throat as he admitted it, raw and unfiltered.

"I am. I'm a fucking faggot. Your fucking faggot." The admission pushed her over the edge first—her orgasm crashing through her, clit grinding against the harness as she fucked him through it, waves of heat pulsing from her core. David followed seconds later, spilling over her hand in thick ropes, his ass clenching rhythmically around the dildo, milking sensations from him he didn't know he craved.

They collapsed together, her still buried inside him, breaths syncing in the afterglow. Amy eased out gently, unbuckling the harness and tossing it aside before curling against his back. David's hand found hers, lacing fingers, a lazy smile tugging at his lips despite the sweat-slick mess of them. "That was... intense," he murmured, turning to kiss her shoulder. She chuckled, nuzzling his neck. "Just a preview. Wait till Troy's real cock has you begging like that."