You Can’t Rewind Reality

"Larry really enjoys watching those movies, Gunnar," I say, very softly, my eyes looking into Larry's, but it's not just Larry's face that's pink now. "With me." I smile.

"Ahhh," Gunnar says, looking past me to Larry. It's nice that this is a booth, a small one, with that U-shaped bench seat. They can see each other as well as sit close to me, and Gunnar's hand rests high on my thigh, while my hand clasps Larry's. "Which movies are those, Tiffany?"

I smile, and my hand squeezes Larry's. I'm a little embarrassed. Well, actually, more than a little. "Those movies where Asian wives get shared with another man by their husband, Gunnar. Larry really enjoys watching those."

"How about you, Tiffany? Do you enjoy watching those movies too?" Gunnar's looking at me now, and I turn my face towards him, and I'd like to smile, but actually I want to moan out loud.

"I didn't to start with," I say. "But Larry likes to watch them with me, and now I think they're very... exciting." I ease my knees apart, and I take Larry's hand and place it on my thigh, high. Opposite Gunnar's hand, which is very high, and I know Larry can feel Gunnar's hand there. I hear him breathe in, sharply.

"So you're one of those guys who think they'd like to watch another guy...." Gunnar looks around and lowers his voice. "...take your wife while you watch." He chuckles. "I thought that was a white cuck fantasy, not one that Chinese guys have."

"Uh....," Larry says.

"Larry really enjoys those movies," I say, slowly, watching Larry's face as I slide my hand down to rest on him where I really want to touch him. Inside his trousers, he's so hard, and my fingers trace that bulge, slowly, enjoying his shudder. "I think Larry would like that, Gunnar. He's been trying to persuade me for weeks and weeks and weeks. He really wants to."

My eyes meet Larry's. I smile, but my heart's pounding furiously, and I'm so wet. Gunnar must realize how wet I am. How ready. His little finger's right there, pressing inwards, between my labia, and with every beat of my heart, my sex seems to pulse. He knows.

"I think Larry would like to be cucked, Gunnar," I smile, my eye's meeting Gunnar's now. I have been watching those movies, and I've been reading about husbands like Larry too. My tongue flickers out, licking my lips as I glance back at Larry, but I don't need to look. My fingers are brushing him through his trousers, where he's so hard. His fingers are resting on my inner thigh, moving slightly on me. Kneading me.

"Would you like to cuck Larry with me, Gunnar?" I manage to sound perfectly natural.

As if I'm asking him if he'd like me to take his jacket, or bring him a glass of water. The perfect wife, except I want to squeeze my legs together, and then spread them wide and moan out loud. I'm so wet already. Wet and shivery with anticipation, and I'm a little scared too, because it's Valentine's Day, and this is Larry's present, but I'm still not quite sure if he wants this.

"Tiffany?" Larry asks, his voice an octave higher than normal, and his face really has flushed. He still sounds a little puzzled.

I almost giggle. Really, Larry shouldn't be puzzled. Not now. My fingers brush him through his trousers, and I do giggle.

"Larry!" I chide him.

"I'd love to, Tiffany," Gunnar says. "But Larry should have time to think this over." He chuckles. "After all, reality's a lot different from watching a movie. You can rewind a movie, but you can't rewind reality, Tiffany, and being cucked is very real. It's about as real as it gets. Why don't we have dessert while Larry thinks about it?"

"Okay," I say, almost regretfully. "What would you like for dessert, Gunnar?"

Gunnar grins as he glances at me. His little finger presses gently against my sex. I'm so wet. Hot and slippery. Gunnar knows.

"Something sweet and juicy, Tiffany," he says.

Larry's eyes meet mine, and there's that frisson inside me, that tight hot clenching anticipation that's my body's reaction to Gunnar's words. I'm sure I know what Gunnar wants for dessert. My eyes drop to look at Gunnar's hand, large and very masculine on my thigh. Larry's hand is there too, smaller, but it's Gunnar's hand that has possession of me, his little finger pressing lightly against my labia, pressing against me, where I'm so swollen and wet.

Juicy. I'm not sure if I'm sweet, but I'm definitely juicy. Those bead panties don't cover anything, and the leather seat beneath me is wet. Gunnar's finger is wet. My inner thighs are wet. If Larry moves his hand a little higher, he'll know how wet I am too.

He doesn't, though. I'm not sure whether to be disappointed or not.

"I know what I'd like to order for dessert, Larry," Gunnar says, his finger moving against me. Pressing. Brushing. Teasing. Exquisite. Slow. He knows how excited I am. How wet I am, because his fingertip pushes inwards, between my labia, pushes against my entrance. Not entering me. Only touching me. I raise my eyes, look at Larry; see him looking. See the look on his face, and I shudder with excitement, because I know Larry knows exactly where Gunnar can find his dessert.

Gunnar's gaze turns to me. "Would you like me to order for all of us, Tiffany?"

"Yes," I whisper, swallowing nervously, not quite sure what he wants to order, but I do know I want to find out. "Yes, I would."

"And you, Larry?" Gunnar asks, smiling at my husband.

Larry nods, jerkily. I'm sure he doesn't know exactly what Gunnar wants to order either, but he wants to find out too. He does look a little confused when Gunnar beckons to the waiter.

He's not the only one.

"A large dish of chocolate strawberries," Gunnar says to the waiter.

He waits for the waiter to leave before he speaks again.

"So you really enjoy those movies, Larry?" he says, and he smiles. "So do I." He chuckles, low and throaty, a chuckle that reverberates through me so that my sex pulses. "I'm sure you know why I enjoy them, don't you, Larry?"

"Uh..." Larry half-gasps, half chokes. He glances down at Gunnar's hand on my thigh, half under my little black dress, and Larry knows exactly which panties I'm wearing. He watched me slip into them. He watched me shave. He knows what's beneath my little black dress.

"Do you know why I enjoy them, Tiffany?" He smiles.

My heart flutters as my eyes meet his. My heart isn't the only thing that flutters. My cheeks are burning, and I'm breathing faster too. In person, Gunnar's even more attractive than he was on that single Facetime call, and I'm actually panting now as I glance sideways at my husband. I lick my lips, because this is the first time I've ever done anything like this. Honestly, until Larry had me watch those movies with him, and talked to me about things like this, I'd never even imagined people did things like this.

It's so exciting.

"Because you're a bull, Gunnar?" I murmur, my eyes meeting his again. I have been doing my research, and I know Larry's a cuck. Well, not yet, but he will be soon, and Gunnar's a bull. The sort of big bull that likes to take a Chinese wife right in front of her husband. I glance back at my husband.

"Like in those movies, Larry," I add, helpfully.

"Larry really enjoys imagining me with another man, Gunnar," I whisper, my heart pounding, because I'm saying it and Larry's listening to me. He's watching me, and my fingers brush his erection through his trousers. "Do you think he'd enjoy watching you with me, Gunnar."

Larry's cock throbs under my fingertips. I feel it throb, and I brush it again, so that he knows I know.

"Would you, Larry?" Gunnar asks, his own voice low and husky. "Would you enjoy watching me take your wife? Right in front of you." He grins. "That's what guys like me enjoy, Larry. I might not let you watch though, Larry. Maybe you'll just have to listen while I take her."

Beads of sweat stand out on Larry's forehead, and seeing them, I smile.

"Larry's never been cucked before by a big handsome bull, Gunnar," I murmur. "He's just imagined it." I know he's imagined it. He's whispered in my ear while we've made love, and he's coaxed me into whispering things back. Things that he says he'd like. I know what Larry would like. "I think he'd really like to watch."

I smile as I glance back to my husband. "Larry, why don't you tell Gunnar what you'd like?" I glance sideways, back to Gunnar, my eyes meeting his, my heart palpitating, because talking about it openly now, or at least, Gunnar and I are talking. I lick my lips.

"Because I'd like to do whatever Larry wants me to do, Gunnar."

"Would you now, Tiffany?" Gunnar smiles down at me. His hand, the hand that's not on my thigh, moves. A finger under my chin, tilting my face up, and he kisses me right in front of Larry. A gentle brush of his lips, a fleeting taste of his tongue, before he releases me. His eyes don't leave mine though, and mine don't look away.

"Would you like what I want to do to you, Tiffany?" he asks.

My eyes look into Gunnar's, and I nod, my voice almost choking on those next words. "Yes, if that's what Larry wants." I glance back to my husband, my fingers brushing him very slowly.

"Larry?" Gunnar's voice is low and throaty, filled with desire, promising to give me everything I want. Promising to take everything he wants.

"Yes?" Larry manages to say. He's looking at me. Watching me.

I like Larry watching me more than I'd ever imagined.

"I think dessert is here," Gunnar says.

"Dessert, sir," the waiter says, a moment later, sliding a large bowl of chocolate-coated strawberries onto the table. Small plates follow, and then he's gone.

"They taste better with a little sauce," Gunnar says, and his hand on my thigh slides down, lifts my knee, but it's not the knee next to him. It's my knee on Larry's side, and he lifts my knee and eases my leg sideways, so that it hangs over Larry's leg. He lifts my other knee, and places it over his, so that my thighs are spread wide. My little dress rucks up, and I don't need to look down to know that my sex is exposed.

Larry looks. Gunnar looks, and it's Gunnar that smiles.

He half turns towards me, he picks up a chocolate strawberry, and he guides that chocolate-coated strawberry to my sex, pressing it inwards a little, turning it against me, removing it as I'm taking in what he's just done.

Larry's eyes are wide, his own chocolate strawberry frozen half way to his mouth as he takes in what Gunnar's just done.

"Delicious," Gunnar says, placing that chocolate strawberry in his mouth, chewing it, swallowing, licking his lips. He takes another chocolate strawberry from the bowl, he eyes me, he smiles, and his hand dips down. I look down, and I can see myself, my thighs spread wide, my sex exposed by those panties that aren't, swollen and pink, glistening wetly with my excitement.

I watch as he laves the chocolate strawberry with my juices, until it's completely coated with them, the chocolate shining wetly.

"Larry," he says, lifting the chocolate strawberry from where it's resting against my sex, placing it on Larry's plate. "Try this, I'm sure you'll find it tastes quite delicious."

I watch as Larry picks up and eats that chocolate strawberry. Gunnar watches too, smiling, and then he takes another chocolate strawberry, and brushes it against me. He eats the strawberry. He offers the next to Larry, alternating, and I sit there, between them, my sex exposed, until they've consumed the entire dish.

"Did you enjoy dessert, sir?" the waiter asks, returning, clearing the dishes away.

"Very much," Gunnar says, smiling.

"Will there be anything else, sir?"

"Bring the bill, and a coffee as well please," Gunnar says. "Black, no cream."

"Of course, sir," the waiter says. "And for you, sir? Ma'am?" To Larry and I.

I shake my head. Larry declines. The waiter vanishes. My legs continue to hang over Larry's and Gunnar's, one of my hands rests on Larry's erection, and I'm right. The seat beneath me is wet. So are my inner thighs.

"Is Tiffany tight as well as juicy, Larry?" Gunnar asks.

"Huh?" Larry says.

"Tiffany, Larry. She's really juicy. Is she tight as well?" Gunnar repeats, smiling.

"Uh... yes... yes, she is," Larry says, perspiring, glancing down.

"Fantasy, and reality, Larry," Gunnar says, quietly. "Fantasy is imagining someone like me making love to your wife in front of you."

He chuckles now, and that chuckle turns my insides molten.

"Fantasy is thinking how hot it is to watch some other guy making love to your wife, but reality's different. Reality is watching your wife being fucked by someone else. Reality isn't just imagining it. Reality is seeing it happen, right before your eyes. Seeing some guy making a cuck out of you. Hearing your wife climax as someone else fucks her. Reality is watching some other guy shoot his load in your wife's pussy."

He smiles and he looks down, at my sex. Larry looks with him, and I look with them both, seeing my sex, highlighted by those black bead panties, shaved bare, pink and glistening, my clitoris protruding, a little button of pink, no longer completely hidden.

"Reality is sitting there knowing some other guy is looking at Tiffany's pretty little pussy, Larry, and thinking how he's going to enjoy listening to her squealing her pretty little head off as he rams his cock into her." Gunnar pauses, and now he looks at me. His eyes search for mine.

"I'd really enjoy making a cuck of your husband, Tiffany, if you want that, and he wants that." His lips quirk. "And you know why I'll enjoy that?"

"Why?" I gasp.

He grins, and he half turns towards me. His lips find mine, and he kisses me as no-one except my husband has ever kissed me. One of his fingertips presses inwards between my labia, pushes, penetrates my entrance at last, slowly, then pushes up inside me. My channel squeezes him slickly, and I shudder, half-closing my eyes, my back arching as his finger penetrates, exploring me inside, caressing my channel walls slowly. Intimately. Thoroughly.

His lips lift from mine, and he smiles as his finger caresses me inside. I'm so hot, so wet, so slippery, so sensitive. I could climax right here, and I have to look down. When I do, I see his hand there, on me, where only Larry's hand has ever been before.

"Why?" he says. "Because you're made for a guy like me to fuck, Tiffany, and Larry's the sort of husband that's made for a guy like me to cuck."

"Ohhhhhh," I moan, softly, my hand still resting on Larry's erection, feeling him through his trousers. So hard. Rigid. He's so excited. I'm almost sure now that he really wants to do this, and my sex spasms, squeezing Gunnar's finger, massaging his finger, while Larry watches. My hand squeezes Larry's erection.

"Reality," Gunnar says, looking across me at Larry, and he smiles as his finger eases from me. He holds his hand up, and his finger's wet. Glistening. With me.

"Reality, Larry," he says, and he smiles as he traces his fingertip across my lips, coating my lips with my own wetness. "Reality is some guy you don't even know finger-fucking your wife in front of you."

He chuckles. "Was that as exciting as you thought it would be, Larry? Because if it is, I can tell you now, I'd really enjoy fucking your wife in front of you, and not just with my finger. Tiffany's gorgeous. She's made for a guy like me to fuck."

He eyes his finger, and then he lifts it to my mouth and slides it inwards, between my lips, smiling as I suck and lick, tasting myself.

"Reality is your wife sucking on my cock, Larry, the way she's sucking on my finger right now." He smiles as his finger slides from my mouth.

"Would you do that for me, Tiffany? Suck on my cock while your husband watches?"

"I'd like that, Gunnar," I whisper, and I glance at Larry. I smile. "If Larry wants me to."

I reach down, and I take Larry's hand. The hand that still rests on my thigh, half way between my knee and my sex, and I slide my husband's hand higher, all the way higher, until he reaches and cups my sex. Now he knows how excited I am, how hot and wet I am, and it's almost as if my sex sucks his finger inwards, into me, and now he really knows how hot and wet and ready I am.

"Didn't you have a hotel suite booked for the night, Tiffany?" Gunnar asks, smiling as I gasp. He knows what Larry's doing to me. He can see.

"Yes," I moan.

"Why don't you take Larry up there now," he says.

He doesn't ask Larry. He doesn't need to ask Larry, because we all know our roles in this. Larry's watched those movies, and so have I. Gunnar's the bull, he's here to take me while my husband watches. Larry's the husband, here to be cucked. I'm the hot Chinese wife, here to be taken in front of my husband. Here for Gunnar to enjoy.

"I'll come up later," he adds, and then he kisses me. While Larry's hand is on my sex. While Larry's finger is inside me. Gunnar kisses me, and then he whispers in my ear.

"I'll come up in half an hour, Tiffany. If Larry doesn't want to, take him home before I get there."

I glance at him, and my eyes tell him I've heard him. I know he has a room access card. That was part of the arrangement. I have my own room access card. Now I turn my face towards Larry.

"Larry?" I gasp. My nipples are so engorged that they hurt. My skin's tingling, almost on fire, and I want to. I want to go up to our hotel suite.

Larry swallows. He looks at me, and then at Gunnar. "Hotel room?" he chokes out.

"It's a Valentine's Day special," I gasp, my sex massaging Larry's finger. "A honeymoon suite."

"You two go up first. I'll finish my coffee and then join you," Gunnar says.

He stands, he takes one of my small delicate hands in his large hand, and he helps me slide out from my seat. My knees are weak, my legs shivery, and I tremble as I stand. My stilettos add two inches to my height. I can look Larry in the eye now, but it's not Larry's eyes I want to look into. It's Gunnar's eyes, as he takes me.

While Larry watches.

"Dinner was lovely, thank you, Gunnar," I say, as he helps me to my feet. I smile, my cheeks pink. "I hope you enjoyed dessert."

"Oh, I did, Tiffany, I enjoyed dessert very much," Gunnar says, smiling as he seats himself again.

I glance at Larry, then down, and Larry's eyes follow mine. Larry and I, we're looking at the same thing. Gunnar's hand rests between my legs, curled over my inner thigh. We can both see that because the little black dress I'm wearing is so very very short. Larry can see Gunnar's wrist, but only I can feel Gunnar's hand there.

Only I can feel, just like later. Larry will see. Larry will hear. Larry will experience vicariously, but only I'm going to experience Gunnar's body on mine, in mine, taking me, if that's what happens. If Larry decides he really does want to be cucked. Gunnar's hand on me is a foretaste of what's to come, and I almost moan with the anticipation.

"Why don't you two go upstairs now," Gunnar says, looking up, smiling. He knows how excited I am. His thumb's touching me. There. Where I'm so wet. Brushing against me.

He glances towards Larry, and grins, handing him a piece of hotel notepaper, folded. "Off you both go. I'll see you after I've finished my coffee."

He pats my butt. "Or not, if you change your minds."

"Room 3102," I read, five minutes later. "This is our room, Larry." I glance at him, and he looks a little pale. "Unless you'd like to go home?"

I'm almost wriggling with anticipation and excitement. I hope Larry wants to stay. I didn't ask him. I took his hand in mine, and he followed me up here, and he's standing beside me now. I know he's hard. We kissed in the elevator, and I want to kiss him again now.

"What...?" He swallows. "What's going on, Tiffany?"

I'm not sure why he's asking me. I'd have thought it was really obvious by now. I'm excited, and I'm eager. I can't wait to walk into our hotel suite. I'm trembling at the thought of what comes next. I'm trembling with anticipation and excitement. I'm not sure what Larry's trembling with, but I do know he has an erection. I can see the bulge when I glance down.