John hissed and I heard him stop touching himself abruptly. My pussy was soaked, and I squeezed my legs together again, aching for release. Had he come? I was filled with disappointment. He didn’t move for a moment, his breathing ragged, the bed still now. Then it started again, his hand working up and down his shaft, slow at first, then faster and faster.

“Yeah, lick her pussy, baby,” he whispered.

My eyes widened and I squeezed my nipple hard at the words. Two women? The thought was exciting, but what was even better was the fact that John was thinking about it. This was one of his fantasies!

I began to slide my hand down my side, trying not to move the covers or give him any indication I was awake. I had to touch myself. It was a long, slow process, an inch at a time, braving two or three inches when he really got into it, hoping he was too lost in the sensation to be thinking about me as I eased my hand down toward my wet pussy.

Finally, I parted my lips, using just my index finger to rub over my aching clit as he pumped his cock. He was getting closer, I could tell, and the closer he got, the more he said. I strained to hear his whispered words.

“You want that in your ass? Take it!” I felt him thrust up a little, as if he were thrusting into something-or someone. Anal sex? We had never had anal sex. He hadn’t ever expressed an interest. I had no idea. I rubbed my clit a little faster, aching to bury my fingers in my pussy but not daring to move any more than I already was. My belly tightened and my cheeks were red.

I was so excited, that I could feel myself hovering just on the verge, and I slowed my finger down, just pressing my clit. I wanted to come with him, if I could time it right.

His hand flew up and down his shaft now, the bed squeaking with the effort. I still couldn’t believe I had slept through this on countless nights, believing he never masturbated.