Hotwife Camping Trip: Wife Sharing Erotica Story

My name is Marcus, and I've been married to the most incredible woman for seven years. Elena is twenty-nine years old, a stunning brunette with hazel eyes that shift between green and gold depending on her mood. She stands five-foot-six with curves that make men stop mid-conversation to stare—full 36D breasts that defy gravity, a narrow waist that flares into hips perfect for gripping, and an ass so round and firm it looks sculpted by a Renaissance master. We've been together since college, and I've always considered myself the luckiest man alive to call her mine.

I'm thirty-two, six feet tall with an athletic build from years of rock climbing and kayaking. I work as a software architect, which pays well but keeps me chained to a desk most days. That's why these camping trips to remote wilderness areas have become sacred to us—our escape from digital screens and conference calls, our return to raw nature and primal connection.

This particular trip was supposed to be special. We'd been planning it for months, booking a secluded campsite at Blackwood Lake, a pristine alpine reservoir surrounded by dense pine forest and jagged mountain peaks. The kind of place where cell phones don't work and the only sounds are wind through the trees and the call of wild birds. The kind of place where a married couple can reconnect without distractions, where outdoor sex under the stars becomes not just possible but inevitable.

Elena had been different lately—restless, hungry for something she couldn't name. Our sex life had always been good, even great by most standards. She'd never been prudish; she gave enthusiastic blowjobs, let me take her from behind, even experimented with anal play a few times when she was feeling particularly adventurous. But there was an edge missing, a wildness she craved without understanding. I'd noticed her lingerie becoming more daring, her touches more lingering, her eyes lingering on strange men when we were out together. She didn't know I noticed these things, but I did. And I found myself strangely aroused by her awakening hunger.

The drive to Blackwood Lake took five hours through winding mountain roads. Elena wore a white sundress with thin straps that kept sliding off her shoulders, revealing the lacy edges of her cream-colored bra. The fabric was thin enough that her dark nipples showed through when the light hit right. She'd kicked off her sandals and propped her bare feet on the dashboard, her legs slightly parted so that when I glanced over, I could see the white cotton panties beneath her dress.

"You keep looking at me like that, Marcus, and we're going to end up pulled over on the side of the road," she teased, her voice honey-thick with suggestion.

"Would that be so terrible?" I asked, my hand sliding from the gear shift to her bare thigh.

She spread her legs wider in response, inviting my touch. I traced my fingers up her inner thigh, feeling the heat radiating from her core. When I brushed against her panties, they were already damp. Elena moaned softly, her head falling back against the seat, her eyes closing as I began to rub slow circles against the cotton fabric.

"God, I've been wet since we left the house," she admitted, her hips lifting slightly to meet my hand. "I don't know what's gotten into me lately. I feel like I'm constantly horny, like my body is on fire and only you can put it out."

I slipped my fingers beneath the elastic of her panties, finding her slick folds already swollen and ready. She gasped as I pushed two fingers inside her, her tight married pussy gripping me like a velvet vice. I finger-fucked her slowly as I drove, her moans filling the car, her hand reaching over to rub my hard cock through my jeans.

"Pull over," she begged, her voice breathy and desperate. "Please, Marcus, I need you inside me. I can't wait until camp."

But I was cruel, or perhaps strategic. I wanted her desperate, wanted her hunger at a fever pitch when we arrived. I withdrew my fingers, bringing them to my lips to taste her arousal, then returned my hand to the steering wheel while she whimpered in frustration.

"Soon, my love," I promised. "When we get there, I'm going to fuck you so hard you'll feel it for days. But first, I want you to ache for it. I want you to be so ready that you'll do anything I ask."

She pouted beautifully, her lower lip pushing out in a way that made me want to bite it. "You're evil," she accused, but her eyes were bright with excitement. "What makes you think I'd do anything? I'm a proper married woman, after all."

"Are you?" I asked, the question hanging between us with unexpected weight. "Are you really?"

She didn't answer, but her blush told me everything. She'd been having thoughts, fantasies perhaps, that she hadn't shared. The idea excited me more than I wanted to admit. The thought of my proper wife, my Elena, harboring secret dirty desires made my cock throb painfully against my zipper.

We arrived at the campground as the afternoon sun began to dip toward the western peaks. The campsite was perfect—secluded, surrounded by tall pines that provided privacy from the few other campers scattered around the lake. Our spot was at the end of a dirt road, backing up to dense forest with a private path leading down to a small cove where we could swim and sunbathe without interruption.

As I set up our tent—a large four-season model with plenty of room for activities beyond sleeping—Elena changed into her bikini. It was new, I noticed, and far more revealing than anything she'd worn before. The top was a halter style in deep crimson that made her skin glow, the cups barely containing her heavy breasts. The bottoms were Brazilian cut, riding high on her hips and exposing the lower curves of her perfect ass cheeks. A tiny triangle of fabric barely covered her mound, and I could see the outline of her pussy lips pressing against the material.

"Do you like it?" she asked, doing a slow spin that made her tits sway. "I bought it special for this trip. I want to feel sexy, Marcus. I want to feel wanted."

"You look fucking incredible," I said, my voice rough with lust. "Every man at this lake is going to be hard looking at you."

"Every man?" she asked, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "What if I want them to look? What if I like the idea of other men wanting what only you get to have?"

The words hung in the air, charged and dangerous. This was new territory, a door opening that couldn't be closed. And I found myself wanting to walk through it with her.

"Then you should give them a show," I said, surprising myself with my boldness. "Tease them. Make them want you. Then come back to me and tell me all about it while I fuck you senseless."

Elena bit her lip, her pupils dilating with arousal. "You'd like that, wouldn't you? Watching other men lust after your wife? Knowing they can't have me but desperately want to?"

"I'd love it," I admitted, stepping close to pull her against me. I ground my hard cock against her stomach, letting her feel what she did to me. "I'd love to see you work them up, then bring that energy back to me. My own personal porn star wife."

She kissed me then, deep and filthy, her tongue exploring my mouth with newfound aggression. When we broke apart, she was breathing hard, her nipples hard peaks against my chest.

"Let's go explore," she said. "I want to see who else is here. I want to see who's watching."

We hiked the trail around the lake, Elena leading the way, her hips swaying hypnotically in those tiny bikini bottoms. Every time we passed another campsite or encountered fellow hikers, I watched their reactions. Men stopped mid-conversation, their eyes tracking her like prey. Women gave her jealous once-overs, then pulled their boyfriends or husbands closer. Elena pretended not to notice, but I saw the small smile playing at her lips, the way she arched her back slightly to present her tits more prominently.

By the time we reached the main beach area, the sun was beginning to set, painting the sky in streaks of orange and purple. A dozen or so people were scattered around, mostly couples and small groups. But one man caught my attention immediately, and I knew he'd caught Elena's too.

He stood at the water's edge, casting a fishing line with practiced ease. Six-foot-two at least, broad shoulders tapering to a narrow waist, muscles that spoke of manual labor rather than gym sculpting. He wore board shorts slung low on his hips, revealing a trail of dark hair leading down from his navel. His chest was bare, tanned golden brown, with a light dusting of hair across pecs that looked like steel plates. Dark hair, slightly long and tousled, framed a face that was ruggedly handsome—strong jaw, sharp cheekbones, and eyes that even from a distance seemed to pierce right through you.

But it wasn't just his looks that commanded attention. It was his presence. An aura of confidence, of power, that made other men seem smaller in comparison. He was the kind of man who walked into a room and owned it without trying.

"Wow," Elena breathed, stopping in her tracks. "Who is that?"

"Probably just another camper," I said, though I felt a strange tightness in my chest. "Come on, let's swim."

But Elena was already walking toward the water, her eyes fixed on the stranger. I followed, feeling like a spectator to something already in motion. As we approached the shoreline, the man turned, his gaze locking onto Elena with predatory intensity. He didn't try to hide his appraisal—his eyes traveled slowly from her face down to her tits, lingering on her barely covered pussy, then back up to meet her eyes. He smiled, a slow, knowing smile that suggested he knew exactly what effect he had on women.

"Evening," he said, his voice deep and rough, like gravel wrapped in velvet. "Beautiful night for a swim."

"It is," Elena replied, her voice slightly breathless. "I'm Elena, and this is my husband, Marcus."

"Dean," he said, not offering his hand but continuing to hold her gaze. "Just set up camp yesterday. Planning to stay the week. Fishing, mostly. Though I'm always open to other... activities."

The innuendo was clear, delivered with such casual confidence that it didn't even seem rude. Just honest. Dean wanted what he saw, and he wasn't going to pretend otherwise.

"We're just here for the weekend," I said, stepping slightly closer to Elena, marking territory I suddenly felt uncertain about. "Trying to get away from the city."

"Smart," Dean said, finally looking at me. His eyes were pale green, almost unnerving in their intensity. "Sometimes you need to get back to nature. Strip away the civilized veneer, you know? Find out who you really are when the rules don't apply."

He was talking about more than camping, and we all knew it. Elena shifted beside me, her nipples visibly harder against her bikini top, and I realized she was responding to him on a primal level I couldn't compete with.

"Well, enjoy your fishing," I said, taking Elena's hand. "We're going to swim."

"Hope to see you around," Dean said, his eyes on Elena's ass as we walked past him into the water. "The lake's warm this time of year. Perfect for... skinny dipping."

Elena looked back at him over her shoulder, her smile coy and inviting. "Maybe later," she said. "If we're feeling adventurous."

The water was indeed warm, but I barely noticed. My mind was racing with what had just happened, with the electricity I'd felt between Elena and this stranger. When we were waist-deep, she turned to me, her eyes bright with excitement.

"Did you see him?" she whispered. "God, Marcus, he's gorgeous. Like something out of a movie. Those muscles, that confidence..."

"I saw," I said, my voice tight. "You seemed to like him."

"I did," she admitted, moving closer to press her body against mine. "Is that wrong? To notice other men? To fantasize?"

"With anyone else, maybe," I said, my hands sliding down to grip her ass. "But with you... I don't know. Seeing you look at him like that, seeing him want you... it made me hard as fuck."

She felt my erection pressing against her stomach and ground against it slowly. "Really? You liked watching me flirt with another man? With a stranger who looks like he could throw me over his shoulder and have his way with me?"

"Fuck, Elena," I groaned, my control slipping. "Don't say things like that unless you want me to fuck you right here in the water."

"Maybe I do," she challenged, her hand reaching down to stroke me through my swim trunks. "Maybe I want you to claim me while he watches. Remind me who I belong to, Marcus. Remind me what my husband's cock feels like."

I kissed her hard, lifting her slightly so her legs wrapped around my waist. The water buoyed her weight as I ground against her, the fabric of our swimsuits the only barrier between us. She was moaning into my mouth, her fingers digging into my shoulders, when I heard the sound of splashing nearby.

We broke apart to see Dean swimming past us, his powerful strokes carrying him smoothly through the water. He wasn't looking at us, but I knew he'd seen. Known what we were doing. And the thought that he'd watched me kissing my wife while she ground on my cock sent a strange thrill through me.

"Let's go back to camp," Elena said, her voice shaky. "I need you inside me. Now."

We practically ran back to our tent, hands groping, mouths fused together. I had her bikini bottoms off before we even reached the tent flap, my fingers plunging into her soaking wet pussy as she fumbled with my shorts. We fell onto our sleeping bags in a tangle of limbs, and I buried my face between her thighs, licking her swollen clit with desperate hunger.

"Yes, Marcus, yes," she cried out, her hips bucking against my tongue. "Eat my pussy, baby. Make me come before you fuck me."

I devoured her, lapping at her folds, thrusting my tongue deep inside her married cunt, then sucking her clit until she was screaming my name. She came hard, her thighs clamping around my head, her fingers pulling my hair as she ground against my face. I didn't stop, kept licking her through the aftershocks until she was begging me to fuck her.

I mounted her, my cock sliding into her still-clenching pussy in one smooth thrust. She was so wet, so hot, so fucking tight despite how aroused she was. I pounded into her, the tent filling with the sounds of flesh slapping flesh, her moans, my grunts.

"Tell me about him," I demanded, the words coming from somewhere primal and dark inside me. "Tell me what you thought about when you saw him."

"I thought about his hands," she gasped, her nails raking down my back. "So big, Marcus. I bet they're rough. I bet he'd know exactly how to touch me. Where to grab me. How to make me his."

"You want that?" I asked, thrusting harder, deeper. "You want a stranger to take you? To use your married pussy?"

"Yes," she wailed, her eyes rolling back. "God, yes, I want it. I want to know what it feels like. I want to be dirty, Marcus. I want to be bad. Make me bad."

I came then, harder than I had in years, flooding her pussy with my seed as she climaxed around me, both of us crying out into the wilderness with no concern for who might hear. When I collapsed beside her, panting and sweating, she curled against my chest, her fingers tracing patterns on my skin.

"That was incredible," she whispered. "I've never felt like that before. So free. So wild."

"It was," I agreed, kissing her forehead. "But Elena... what you said. About wanting another man. Did you mean it? Or was it just dirty talk?

She was silent for a long moment, and I felt my stomach clench with anticipation and fear.

"I meant it," she finally said, so quietly I almost didn't hear. "I've been having dreams, Marcus. Fantasies. About being with someone else. Not because I don't love you—I do, more than anything. But because I want to know what it's like to be completely taken. To surrender to desire without thinking. To be... used. In a good way. In a way that makes me feel alive."

I absorbed this, turning it over in my mind. The traditional husband in me should have been angry, hurt, threatened. But the man who had just had the best sex of his marriage wasn't any of those things. He was intrigued. Aroused. Hungry for more.

"Dean," I said. It wasn't a question.

"I felt something when I looked at him," she admitted. "Something I've never felt before. Like he could see right through me. Like he knew exactly what I needed before I even knew myself."

"And what do you need, Elena?" I asked, my voice steady despite the turmoil inside me.

"I need to be awakened," she said, looking up at me with those hazel eyes that had captured my heart years ago. "I need to discover who I am when I'm not being good. And I need you to help me, Marcus. I need you to be there. To watch. To keep me safe while I explore."

The request was clear, terrifying, and irresistible. She wanted my permission—my blessing—to step outside the bounds of our marriage. To experience another man while I watched. The ultimate cuckold fantasy, one I'd never admitted to myself that I harbored.

"And if I said yes," I said slowly, "what would you want? Specifically? What would be your fantasy?"

She took a deep breath, her courage building. "I want him to seduce me. I want to pretend I'm reluctant, that I'm a faithful wife who would never cheat. I want him to convince me, to overwhelm me, to make me forget everything except the pleasure he's giving me. And I want you to watch. I want you to see what I become when I let go completely."

"And afterward?" I asked, my cock already stirring again at the mental image. "After he's had you?"

"Then I want to come back to you," she said, her hand wrapping around my renewed erection. "I want to be full of his cum when you reclaim me. I want you to fuck his seed deeper into me, to remind me that I'm yours even when I've been bad. Especially when I've been bad."

I groaned, rolling her onto her back and sliding into her again, feeling my own cum and her arousal making her slick and filthy. "You're sure about this? Once we start, there's no going back."

"I'm sure," she gasped as I began to move inside her. "Make it happen, Marcus. Set me free."

The next morning, I woke to find Elena already up and preparing breakfast. She wore one of my oversized t-shirts and nothing else, the hem barely covering her ass. When she bent over to stir the campfire, I could see her bare pussy glistening in the morning light, still swollen from our marathon session the night before.

"Sleep well?" she asked, her smile radiant and nervous at the same time.

"Better than I have in years," I admitted, accepting the coffee she handed me. "You?"

"I kept dreaming about him," she said, not needing to specify who. "About his hands on me. About what it would feel like to be taken by someone so... powerful."

"He's probably at the main camp area," I said, my heart pounding. "If you want to see him again."

"I do," she said simply. "Will you come with me? Help me... accidentally run into him?"

We dressed—Elena in another tiny sundress, this one yellow and even more revealing than the white one, with a plunging neckline that showed off her cleavage and a hem that barely covered her ass. She wore no bra, her nipples visible through the thin fabric, and a tiny thong underneath that I knew would be soaked through within minutes of seeing Dean.

We found him at the camp store, buying ice for his cooler. He wore jeans today, worn and faded in all the right places, and a flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up to reveal forearms corded with muscle. When he saw us approach, that slow smile spread across his face again.

"Morning, neighbors," he said, his eyes devouring Elena from head to toe. "Sleep well? I heard some... interesting noises last night. Seems like you two were enjoying the wilderness."

Elena blushed crimson, but I saw the excitement in her eyes. "We were just... celebrating being away from civilization," she said, her voice breathy.

"Nothing to celebrate like a beautiful woman," Dean said, stepping closer. He towered over Elena, making her look small and delicate. "I'm heading out to a secluded spot I found, up past the north ridge. Great fishing, complete privacy. You two interested in joining? I could use the company, and I promise I don't bite... unless asked."

The invitation was transparent, loaded with possibility. I looked at Elena, saw the hunger in her eyes, and made the decision that would change everything.

"Elena would love to," I said. "I actually have some work calls I need to make this morning. Cell reception is spotty, but there's a ridge about half a mile east that gets a bar or two. Elena, why don't you go with Dean? Keep him company while I take care of business."

Elena's eyes widened, then softened with gratitude and arousal. She understood what I was doing—giving her permission, creating the scenario she'd asked for. Dean's smile widened, recognizing the game immediately.

"That sounds perfect," he said, his hand moving to the small of Elena's back, possessive and confident. "I'll take good care of her, Marcus. Promise."

"I'm sure you will," I said, my throat tight. "Elena, I'll meet you back at camp in a few hours. Have... fun."

She kissed me then, deep and lingering, her tongue darting into my mouth in a promise of what was to come. Then she took Dean's arm and let him lead her away, looking back at me once with an expression of lust and love and wild abandon that took my breath away.

I watched them go, my heart hammering, my cock straining against my jeans. Then I followed, keeping my distance, finding the vantage point that would let me watch without being seen.

The spot Dean had found was perfect—a small clearing by a stream, hidden from the main trails by thick brush and tall pines. A large flat rock served as a natural sunning spot, and I found a position behind some bushes where I could see everything without being detected.

Elena stood nervously by the stream, her arms wrapped around herself despite the warmth of the morning. Dean had spread a blanket on the rock and was unpacking his fishing gear, but his attention was entirely on my wife.

"Nervous?" he asked, not looking up.

"A little," Elena admitted. "I've never done anything like this before."

"Like what?" Dean asked, finally turning to face her. "Like spend time with a man who isn't your husband? Or like admit what you really want?"

"Both," Elena whispered.

Dean approached her slowly, like a predator stalking prey. "Your husband knows you're here with me," he said. It wasn't a question. "He wants this too, doesn't he? Wants to see you break free. Wants to see what you're capable of when you stop being good."

Elena nodded, her lower lip trembling. "He gave me permission. But I... I don't know if I can. I'm a faithful wife, Dean. I've never cheated. Never even thought about it until recently."

"Faithful," Dean repeated, tasting the word. "But not satisfied. Not fully alive. I can see it in you, Elena. The hunger you're trying to hide. The need to be overwhelmed, to be taken, to be used in ways your gentle husband would never dare."

He reached her then, his large hand cupping her face, tilting it up to meet his gaze. "I'm going to give you what you need," he said, his voice dropping to a rough whisper. "And you're going to take it. Because deep down, beneath the good wife and the faithful partner, you're a slut waiting to be unleashed. My slut. For today, for this moment, you belong to me."

Elena made a small sound, half protest, half moan. "I shouldn't," she breathed, even as she leaned into his touch.

"You should," Dean countered, his other hand moving to her waist, pulling her against him. "You need to. And your husband wants you to. Look at how hard you're making him right now, thinking about you in my arms. Thinking about my cock inside you. Isn't that right, Marcus?"

My blood ran cold, then hot. He knew I was watching. Of course he did. This was part of the game, part of the seduction. He was putting on a show for me while taking what he wanted.

Elena's eyes widened, searching the trees for me. "He's here?"

"He's been here the whole time," Dean said, his hand sliding down to grip her ass, squeezing hard. "Watching his precious wife get ready to be fucked by a better man. A bigger man. A man who knows how to handle a woman like you."

He kissed her then, and I watched my wife melt into it. Her arms went around his neck, her body pressed fully against his, and she opened her mouth to his invading tongue with a surrender that made my knees weak. Dean kissed her thoroughly, possessively, his hands roaming over her body with confident entitlement. When he broke the kiss, they were both breathing hard.

"Take off the dress," he commanded. "I want to see what your husband has been keeping to himself."

Elena hesitated for only a moment, then reached for the hem of her sundress and pulled it over her head. She stood before him in just her tiny thong, her full breasts exposed to the morning air, her nipples hard and aching. Dean made an appreciative sound, low and guttural.

"Fuck, you're gorgeous," he said, his hands moving to cup her tits, thumbs brushing over her nipples. "These are spectacular. Your husband is a lucky man. But today, they're mine."

He lowered his head and took one nipple into his mouth, sucking hard. Elena cried out, her hands flying to his hair, holding him against her. He moved to the other breast, giving it equal attention, then began kissing down her stomach, dropping to his knees in front of her.

"Spread your legs," he ordered. "Show me your pussy. Show me what I'll be fucking."

Elena obeyed, her legs trembling as she widened her stance. Dean hooked his fingers in her thong and pulled it down, leaving her completely naked in the wilderness. He stared at her shaved pussy, glistening with arousal, and I saw his cock straining against his jeans.

"Beautiful," he murmured, then leaned in and licked her from bottom to top in one long, slow stroke.

"Oh god," Elena moaned, her head falling back. "Dean, please..."

"Please what?" he asked, looking up at her with those piercing eyes. "Please stop? Or please make you come like your husband never has?"

"Please don't stop," she begged, her hips rocking toward his face. "Please make me come. Make me yours."

He obliged, burying his face between her thighs. I couldn't see exactly what he was doing, but from Elena's reactions, it was devastatingly effective. She was moaning continuously, her hands gripping his shoulders for support, her hips bucking against his mouth. He ate her pussy with skill and enthusiasm, varying his technique, bringing her to the edge then backing off, building her pleasure until she was incoherent with need.

"Please, Dean, please," she chanted. "I need to come. Make me come. I'll do anything, just please let me come."

He stood up then, wiping her juices from his chin with a satisfied smile. "You'll come when I say you can come," he told her. "And you'll come on my cock, not my tongue. I want to feel you clench around me when you lose control. I want to feel your married pussy milking my seed while your husband watches."

He unbuttoned his jeans and pushed them down, and both Elena and I gasped at what was revealed. His cock was enormous, easily nine inches long and thick as a beer can, the head swollen and leaking precum. It jutted out from his body, heavy and demanding, a weapon of pleasure that made my own average six inches feel inadequate by comparison.

Elena stared at it, her eyes wide with a mixture of fear and desperate desire. "It's so big," she whispered. "I don't know if I can take it."

"You'll take it," Dean said, gripping his shaft and stroking it slowly. "You'll take every inch, and you'll beg for more. Now get on your knees and worship this cock. Show me how a married slut thanks her bull for the pleasure he's about to give her."

Elena sank to her knees without hesitation, her eyes fixed on his massive erection. She reached out tentatively, her small hand wrapping around his girth, and Dean groaned at her touch. She began to stroke him, exploring his length, then leaned forward and licked the bead of precum from his tip.

"Good girl," Dean encouraged, his hand moving to her hair, guiding her. "Now open wide. Let's see how much of this you can take."

Elena opened her mouth and took him inside, her lips stretching around his girth. She could only manage the first few inches, her hand working the rest of his shaft, but Dean didn't seem to mind. He began to thrust gently, fucking her mouth in shallow strokes, teaching her rhythm.

"That's it," he groaned. "Suck that cock. Get it nice and wet for your pussy. I want to slide into you like butter, Elena. I want to feel how tight you are, how your husband's cock has been the only one to stretch you... until now."

Elena moaned around him, the vibration making him shudder. She was getting into it now, her inhibitions falling away, her natural sensuality taking over. She used her tongue, her hands, even grazed him lightly with her teeth, and Dean's breathing grew ragged.

"Enough," he finally said, pulling out of her mouth with a wet pop. "I need to be inside you. Now."

He pulled her to her feet and spun her around, bending her over the flat rock. Elena gasped at the sudden movement, then moaned as he kicked her legs apart, spreading her wide. He positioned himself behind her, his massive cock nudging against her entrance, and looked directly toward my hiding spot.

"Watch this, Marcus," he called out, his voice carrying clearly. "Watch me claim your wife. Watch her become my slut."

Then he pushed forward, and I watched Elena's pussy stretch around him, watched her back arch and her mouth open in a silent scream as he invaded her married body. Inch by inch, he fed her his cock, filling her deeper than she'd ever been filled, until he was fully seated inside her, his balls pressed against her clit.

"Fuck," Elena gasped, her hands gripping the rock, her knuckles white. "Oh fuck, Dean, you're so big. I can feel you everywhere. It's too much, it's... oh god, don't stop. Please don't stop."

He began to move, slow strokes at first, letting her adjust to his size. But soon he was pounding her, his hips slapping against her ass, his cock driving in and out of her with relentless force. The sounds were obscene—wet, squelching noises of flesh meeting flesh, Elena's moans and cries, Dean's grunts of pleasure.

"Tell me who you belong to," Dean demanded, his hand reaching around to rub her clit. "Tell me whose cock is making you scream."

"Yours," Elena wailed, her hips pushing back to meet his thrusts. "I belong to you, Dean. Your cock, your slut. Oh god, I'm going to come. Please, can I come?"

"Come for me," he commanded. "Come on my cock like the dirty wife you are. Show your husband what you look like when you're being properly fucked."

Elena shattered, her orgasm ripping through her with such force that she collapsed forward onto the rock, her body convulsing, her screams echoing through the forest. Dean didn't stop, didn't slow down—he kept fucking her through her climax, extending her pleasure, using her body for his own satisfaction.

When she finally came down, he pulled out and flipped her over, lifting her onto the rock so she was lying on her back. He climbed over her, his cock glistening with her arousal, and pushed back inside her in one powerful thrust.

"Look at me," he ordered, gripping her chin. "Look into my eyes while I fuck you. Forget about your husband. Forget about everything. Just feel."

Elena obeyed, her hazel eyes locked on his pale green ones as he resumed his relentless pounding. He was fucking her with abandon now, his hips moving like a piston, driving his massive cock deep into her core with every stroke. Elena's tits bounced with the force of his thrusts, her nipples hard peaks, her mouth open in continuous moans.

"Your pussy is incredible," Dean growled, his pace increasing. "So fucking tight, so fucking wet. I'm going to fill you with my cum, Elena. I'm going to mark you as mine. And then you're going to go back to your husband with my seed dripping down your thighs. Is that what you want?"

"Yes," Elena sobbed, her second orgasm building rapidly. "Yes, please, Dean. Come inside me. Fill me up. I want to feel it. I want to be yours."

He roared his release, his body going rigid as he pumped rope after rope of hot cum into my wife's unprotected pussy. I could see his balls contracting, see the pulse of his cock as he emptied himself inside her. Elena came simultaneously, her pussy clamping down on him, milking him for every drop, her back arching off the rock as she screamed his name to the sky.

They collapsed together, Dean's weight pressing her into the blanket, both of them panting and sweating and trembling. He stayed inside her for long minutes, his cock still twitching occasionally, their combined fluids leaking out around him and onto the rock beneath her.

When he finally pulled out, I saw the evidence of their coupling—a thick stream of white cum pouring from her stretched pussy, running down her thighs, marking her as thoroughly claimed. Dean stood and looked toward me again, a triumphant smile on his face.

"Come out, Marcus," he called. "Come reclaim your wife. If you still want her now that she's been properly fucked."

I emerged from the bushes on shaking legs, my cock harder than it had ever been, my mind reeling with what I'd just witnessed. Elena looked at me, her eyes glazed with pleasure and exhaustion, her body limp and well-used and absolutely beautiful.

"Marcus," she whispered, holding out her arms to me. "Please. I need you."

I went to her, kneeling between her spread legs, seeing Dean's cum still leaking from her swollen pussy. I should have been disgusted, should have been angry. Instead, I was consumed with desire to reclaim her, to add my seed to his, to remind her that she was mine even as she carried another man's child inside her womb.

I unzipped my jeans and freed my aching cock, positioning myself at her entrance. She was so wet, so open, so full of another man's cum that I slid in easily, feeling the slickness of their combined juices coating me.

"Feel that?" Dean asked, standing over us, watching. "Feel how loose she is now? How well-fucked? That's how a woman should feel, Marcus. That's what she needs. But you can have your turn. Fuck your sloppy seconds, husband. Add your load to mine."

His words should have humiliated me. Instead, they drove me wild. I began to pound into Elena with desperate hunger, feeling Dean's cum squelching around my cock, using it as lubricant to fuck her harder, deeper. Elena moaned, her hands pulling me down to her, her mouth finding mine in a kiss that tasted of Dean's cock and her own arousal.

"I love you," she gasped between thrusts. "I love you so much, Marcus. Thank you. Thank you for letting me be free. Thank you for watching. Thank you for reclaiming me."

I came with a roar, my orgasm triggered by the filthiness of the moment, by the knowledge that I was fucking my wife's cum-filled pussy, by the sight of Dean's seed mixing with mine as it leaked out around my shaft. I pumped everything I had into her, my balls emptying completely, my vision going white at the edges.

When I collapsed beside her, Dean knelt down and ran his hand through the mess between her thighs, collecting our combined fluids on his fingers. He brought them to Elena's lips, and she opened her mouth obediently, sucking him clean with obvious relish.

"Good girl," he said, patting her head like a pet. "You're going to be fun to play with this weekend. Because this is just the beginning, Elena. I'm going to teach you things about yourself you never knew. I'm going to show you what it means to be a true hotwife. And your husband is going to watch every moment."

Elena looked at me, her eyes questioning, seeking permission to continue. I nodded, unable to speak, knowing that we had crossed a threshold that could never be uncrossed. And knowing that I wanted more. So much more.