The Taste Test
"His wife catches him with his mistress. Instead of screaming, she makes a bet: she can make him come faster. The competition happens right there, both women present, taking turns until there's a clear winner."
My wife catches me with my cock in another woman's mouth.
I expect screaming. Crying. Divorce papers hurled at my head.
Instead, she closes the bedroom door behind her and says:
"She's doing it wrong."
Let me explain.
Rachel—my wife of fifteen years—is not what you'd call a passive woman. Two-seventy, built like a goddess, with curves that could stop traffic and a mouth that could start wars. She's never backed down from a fight in her life.
So when she walks in on me with Amber—my assistant, twenty-six, thin, blonde, everything Rachel isn't—I should have known it wouldn't end in tears.
It would end in competition.
"Excuse me?" Amber pulls back. My cock bobs, wet with her spit.
"You heard me." Rachel walks toward the bed. She's still in her work clothes—pencil skirt, blouse, heels. "Your technique is sloppy. Too much hand, not enough suction. He won't finish like that."
"Who the fuck are you to—"
"I'm his wife." Rachel sits on the edge of the bed. "And I'm the one who knows what he likes."
"If you're so great, why is he here with me?"
"Because men are stupid." Rachel looks at me. "Aren't you, darling?"
I can't speak. My cock is still hard. Both women are looking at me.
"Here's what's going to happen," Rachel continues. "We're going to settle this like adults. A competition. See who can make him come faster." She smiles. "Winner takes all."
Amber laughs. "You're joking."
"Do I look like I'm joking?"
"You want to... compete? For him?"
"I want to prove something." Rachel stands. Starts unbuttoning her blouse. "I've been with this man for fifteen years. I know every inch of his body. Every spot that makes him shiver. Every touch that makes him beg."
The blouse falls. Her bra strains against her massive breasts.
"You've been fucking him for what—a month? Two?" Rachel reaches behind her. The bra unclasps. "You don't know him. You're just new."
Her breasts spill free. Heavy, full, nipples dark and hard.
"So let's see who really knows how to handle him." Rachel looks at me. "What do you say, darling? Ready for a taste test?"
I should say no.
I should get dressed, apologize to both of them, and figure out how my life got so fucked up.
Instead, I say: "What are the rules?"
Rachel smiles. Amber stares.
"Simple." Rachel unzips her skirt. "We take turns. Mouths only—for now. Timer starts when we begin, stops when you finish. Faster time wins."
"And what does the winner get?"
"Me." Rachel's skirt falls. She's wearing nothing underneath. "If I win, she leaves and never comes back. If she wins..." She shrugs. "We'll discuss terms."
Amber's eyes narrow. "Fine. I'll go first."
"No." Rachel climbs onto the bed. "I will."
Rachel positions herself between my legs.
She looks up at me—my wife, my partner, the woman I've been betraying for months. There's no anger in her eyes. Just focus. Determination.
And hunger.
"Watch closely," she tells Amber. "This is how you suck a cock."
She takes me in her mouth.
Fifteen years of practice.
That's what I feel when Rachel's lips close around me. She knows exactly how deep to go, exactly how much pressure to apply, exactly when to use her tongue and when to use her throat.
She takes me all the way down. Holds. Swallows around me.
I groan. Grab the headboard.
"That's it, baby." She pulls off just enough to speak. "Give it to me. Give me what she couldn't earn."
She goes back down. Faster now. Her head bobbing, her throat opening, her hands cupping my balls and stroking in rhythm.
"Fuck—Rachel—"
"Mmm." She moans around my cock. The vibration travels up my spine.
I'm close. Already. Two minutes in and I'm right at the edge.
"I'm gonna—"
She pulls off completely.
"Not yet." She looks at Amber. "Your turn. Timer starts now."
Amber's technique is different.
Enthusiastic but inexperienced. Too much saliva, not enough rhythm. She gags when she tries to go deep, uses too much hand to compensate.
It feels good. Of course it does—a mouth is a mouth.
But it doesn't feel like Rachel.
"You're taking too long," Rachel observes from beside us. "He should be close by now."
"Shut up." Amber works harder. "I can do this."
"Can you?" Rachel reaches over. Cups my balls—the same way she did, but now while Amber sucks. "Or do you need help?"
The combined sensation is overwhelming.
"Fuck—" I'm close again. "I'm—"
Rachel lets go.
"Timer." She's holding her phone. "Three minutes, forty-two seconds. And you didn't finish."
"That's not fair." Amber pulls back. "You helped him—"
"I helped him get close. You should have finished him." Rachel pushes her aside gently. "My turn again. Let me show you how it's done."
She takes me in her mouth. Goes deep immediately. Her nose pressed against my pelvis, my cock buried in her throat.
She swallows. Once. Twice.
I come.
Hard. Down her throat. She takes every drop, swallowing around me while I shake. Her eyes meet mine the whole time—triumphant, loving, victorious.
"Two minutes, eighteen seconds." She wipes her mouth. "I believe I win."
Amber is quiet.
I'm still catching my breath, still twitching, still trying to process what just happened.
"So that's it?" Amber finally says. "I just... leave?"
"That was the deal." Rachel stands. Stretches. "Unless..."
"Unless what?"
"Unless you want to learn." Rachel tilts her head. "I could teach you. Not for him—God knows he doesn't deserve two women. But for yourself. For whoever comes next."
"You want to... teach me to suck cock?"
"I want to teach you to own a man." Rachel's smile is predatory. "There's a difference."
What happens next, I don't expect.
Amber looks at me. At Rachel. At the space between them.
"Show me," she says.
Rachel's smile widens.
"Lie down," she tells me. "Class is in session."
They take turns.
Rachel demonstrates. Amber imitates. I'm the practice dummy—hard again somehow, despite having just finished, too overwhelmed to do anything but lie there.
"Slower at the base." Rachel guides Amber's head. "More suction at the tip. Feel him twitch? That means you're doing it right."
"Like this?"
"Better. Now add your hand—no, not like that. Here."
Rachel adjusts Amber's grip. Shows her the rhythm. They're working together now, Rachel's experience guiding Amber's enthusiasm.
"He's close again." Rachel sounds pleased. "Let's finish him together."
Two mouths.
One on each side of my cock, licking in tandem. Rachel takes the head while Amber works the shaft. They meet in the middle, their tongues touching around my most sensitive spots.
"Come for us," Rachel commands. "Show her what she earned."
I come.
They share it—mouths open, tongues catching, swallowing together. When I'm spent, they look at each other.
Something passes between them.
Understanding, maybe. Respect.
"Same time next week?" Amber asks.
Rachel laughs.
"We'll see."
Epilogue: Three months later
The arrangement is... unusual.
Rachel is still my wife. Amber is still... something else. What they are to each other is harder to define.
Friends. Rivals. Co-conspirators.
Every Thursday night, they compete. New challenges. New tests. New ways to see who can break me faster, harder, more thoroughly.
"You're a lucky man," Rachel told me once, after a particularly intense session.
"I'm terrified."
"Good." She kissed my cheek. "You should be. We're only getting better."
She was right.
And God help me, I love every second of it.