Truth be told, I have it good. But I’m a man who likes to be reminded of that fact. Knowing people, other guys in particular, envy the life I’ve built for myself makes all of my success taste even sweeter. Seeing other men fawn over my wife only increases her desirability in my eyes, and she knows it. In fact, we’ve made a game of it. It’s become a hallmark of our marriage, and I love every minute it.

Running a farm lends itself to this behavior more than you might think. There’s no shortage of strapping young men happy to pay the boss lady a bit of attention. Kerry flirts with our employees at every opportunity, laying it on extra thick whenever I’m within earshot. When one of the farmhands is particularly enthusiastic, she’ll whisk him away to a place that only seems private.

You see, there’s this large flat rock smack in the middle of one of our cornfields. It forms a kind of natural platform that becomes more obscured as the corn grows taller around it. On ground level, it appears to be an out of the way haven. However, our home is situated at the top of the hill, and our bedroom window offers a bird’s-eye view of the spot.

Kerry is sure to proposition a man when I’m close enough to hear her invitation. The boys think I’m none the wiser, which makes these situations even more fun for me. Kerry will say to one of our guys, “Come help me shuck the corn,” and I know it’s time for me to head up to our bedroom and settle in for a show.

Late last summer, a new farmhand joined the ranks. Ben’s young, broad and brooding — exactly Kerry’s type. His response to Kerry’s flirting was a bit more subtle compared to the other guys, but it was clear to me that he was interested in her.

When I heard Kerry utter our code words the other day, I hightailed it up to the house. By the time I made it to our bedroom, Kerry and Ben were just getting down to business at the rock platform.

Kerry peeled off Ben’s shirt, and watching through my trusty binoculars, I could see the guy was ripped. She ran her hands all over his abs and pecs, smoothing her palms over his shoulders and down his chiseled biceps.

When Kerry’s nimble fingers reached Ben’s wrists, she tightened her grip and brought his hands to her cloth-covered breasts, laying them right on top. With the aid of the binoculars, I could make out the way his fingers flexed, testing the softness of her voluptuous knockers.

My dick tented the front of my worn jeans, urging me to set it free. I was tempted to take my twitching cock into my fist and pump myself until come jetted from the tip and dripped down onto my clenched hand. But the time wasn’t right. I wanted to focus on the scene playing out in the field below.

Kerry’s shirt was the next article of clothing to go. Ben removed his hands from her tits and quickly stripped off her top. I’d watched my wife dress that morning, and I knew exactly which bra she’d chosen to wear. Although Ben blocked my view at that moment, I recalled the vision of her rosy nipples poking through the lavender lace of her brassiere. The demi cups highlighted her generous cleavage by creating a deep crevice between her plump breasts.

Ben ran a single fingertip along the place where her full tits met. He was clearly entranced by the beautiful body that was his for the taking. He continued downward, tracing a line down her taut tummy to her belly button.

Kerry braced herself by putting her hands behind her, which propped up her torso. Her tits pointed up toward the clear blue sky. She lifted her ass off the platform and wiggled her hips, urging Ben to remove her pants.

I could see her lips moving as she spoke words I couldn’t hear.

“Come on, now,” I imagined my wife whispering. “Don’t make me beg.”

Ben popped open the button on her jeans and yanked down the zipper. He didn’t remove the pants right away, though. Instead, he pressed a kiss to her denim-covered mound. If he was anything like me, he breathed in deep, attempting to catch a hint of Kerry’s musky scent.

I love watching men worship my wife, but my impatient libido demanded more. There was still way too much fabric in the way for my liking. I wanted to see naked, writhing bodies kissed by the sun.

Finally, Ben shimmied the stiff denim over my wife’s thighs and down to her ankles. He tugged off her boots and jeans and tossed the bundle to the side, then he turned his attention back to her pussy.

A large wet spot was already growing on the thin scrap of lace stretched taut over her gash. When Kerry’s aroused, there’s no shortage of natural lubricant, and there was no doubt Ben had made her pussy deliciously moist.

How do I know? Kerry had previously told me how her body reacted to Ben. She’s well aware that I love hearing about her filthy fantasies, and since Ben started working for us, he’d become her latest fixation. Now, instead of pumping a vibrator into her pussy while she dreamed of our newest employee, Kerry would finally experience the real deal, and I couldn’t be happier.

Eager to get started, he moved his lips and tongue over the lavender lace. Kerry tossed her head back, and her lips fell open. Even with glass and a cornfield in between us, I swear I could hear her gasp.

“That’s it, Ben,” I said. “Give my wife what she wants.”

As if he could hear me, Ben’s hand dove between Kerry’s thighs and pushed her panties to the side. She looked down, watching intently as he plunged a few fingers deep inside her pussy and pumped them in and out. He pistoned his digits for a bit, then he lowered his head and seemed to attack her clit.

Over the years, I’ve become adept at reading my wife’s lips. There was no doubt what she said when Ben’s mouth made contact: “Oh fuck!”

I echoed the exclamation.

Within seconds, waves of pleasure appeared to roll over Kerry’s body. I could see it all the way from her quivering lips down to her pointed toes. Her bare feet flexed against the stone, while she slapped a hand against the rock. She punctuated every last shout as she tumbled into ecstasy.

By that point, my erection had grown so insistent, it was impossible to ignore. I tore down my zipper and let my pants fall in a heap around my ankles. My dick burst through the fly of my boxers in triumph. I wrapped my fist around my cock as my wife convulsed with pleasure.

As the last of her tremors subsided, I licked my lips and imagined the taste of Kerry’s nectar on my own tongue.

After a finger-fuck, Kerry is always happy to return the favor, and that afternoon was no exception. She’d barely caught her breath when she crooked her finger at Ben and motioned for him to lie down.

I stroked my own shaft, while I watched my wife slink between Ben’s legs and tug down his jeans. Much like my own, Ben’s cock was eager for attention. It sprang free and practically tapped at her lips, demanding entry.

Of course, Kerry was happy to let him in. She opened her mouth wide and swallowed him up, not stopping until her face was practically in his lap. Then she started to move, bobbing her head in time to a catchy rhythm that my own hand found easy to emulate.

While my wife blew Ben, I manhandled my own cock. I followed Kerry’s lead, mimicking her motions carefully. Matching her movements made me feel connected to my wife, even though I was merely a witness to her actions. It may not have been my dick in her mouth, but I still felt involved.

Now, it was Ben’s turn to slap his hands against the platform. He planted his booted feet on the rock and raised his ass into the air, driving his dick even deeper down Kerry’s throat.

Kerry let him go for a moment. Then in a flash, the tables had turned again. She rose, easing Ben’s dick from her mouth. After spreading out some of their clothing to protect her knees, she straddled his hips in one smooth, lightning-fast move. His dick was visible for just a moment before it disappeared into Kerry’s snatch.

“That’s right, baby. You show him who’s boss,” I muttered.

Years of riding horses has made Kerry’s thighs super strong. She locked her knees on either side of Ben’s body as she took charge and bounced with abandon.

A tortured look of pleasure crossed Ben’s face, and I continued to stroke my cock. I thought he and I were both close to busting — and it was all thanks to my slutty wife.

Kerry lifted her arms in triumph and let out a holler. She looked at the window where I stood, and that gesture gave me the push I needed to fall headlong into my own orgasm.

Later that night, we would both recount the afternoon’s activities, using it as fuel for our own evening’s antics. Until then, I would fixate on the thought of watching my wife take charge of another man — and how much I liked seeing her in action.