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Shared with the Strangers

By Nixie Fairfax

Copyright 2018 by Nixie Fairfax

All rights reserved

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

This work contains explicit sexual content and is intended for adults only. All characters in this work are 18 years of age or older.

The world went dark as my husband Carter tied the blindfold around my face.

“Are you ready, Felicia?” he asked me, each word sending a little tickle of air across my left ear.

“Yes,” I said, my voice low and hoarse with desire. I nodded for emphasis. The movement made me sway a little in the harness in which I was suspended in the middle of our bedroom. My naked body was elevated a few feet off the floor, my torso upright and level with my husband’s. My wrists were bound to the straps that held my arms over my head, while my thighs were bound to the loops holding my legs up and apart to reveal my slick, pink pussy. The harness’s padded straps left most of my body exposed, and they could be adjusted in a variety of ways to maneuver me into different positions. My husband and I had gotten many hours of creative and multi-orgasmic use out of the device. We had never used it with others, had never opened up our love life to anyone else.

Until tonight.

I took a shaky breath as I oscillated gently in the harness. I couldn’t believe we were actually doing what we were doing tonight. Carter and I had always been very open about our fantasies, and he had always been especially intrigued by my favorite, which involved my being bound and blindfolded and taken by a crowd of strange men whom I never see and who never say a word. We had role-played a similar scenario many times, though of course Carter was the only “stranger” involved, and while the sex was always enjoyable, it wasn’t really what my fantasy entailed. But then, not long ago, he surprised me by suggesting we make the fantasy a reality. After making sure that he was really okay with seeing me getting fucked by other men, I readily agreed.

It didn’t take him long to find some willing men, though he refused to tell me who they were or where he had found them or what they looked like. And I didn’t ask. I didn’t want to know. It was better, more exciting, if they remained strangers. Unseen. Unknown. I trusted Carter to select these men carefully and wisely. I assumed he had found them through some swingers’ group, but I couldn’t be sure. I would never be sure.

The doorbell rang, a distant, muffled chime. I drew in a deep, nervous breath. My pussy was very wet.

“Here we go,” Carter said. From his voice I could tell he was smiling. He kissed me on the mouth, our tongues touching, then strode off toward the door. The door opened. Closed. Footsteps thudded away toward the front of the house, growing fainter until they faded out completely.

Then, very faintly, just on the edge of audibility, I heard the front door open, heard an indistinct murmur of voices, some thumps of movement. Laughter.

Time passed. I wasn’t sure how long. It seemed like a long time, but probably wasn’t. Instead of growing bored, though, I only grew more excited as I listened to those distant murmurs and laughs and thumps. My heart was racing. My pussy was drenched. I could feel drops of my slick dew beading up and trickling warmly from my eager hole.

Footsteps came clumping down the hall. Louder and louder. Several sets of steps. I couldn’t tell exactly how many. Five? Six? More? It sounded like a lot, but it was hard to be sure.

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