Austrian Sauna: How I Wished It Ended

I still replay that Austrian spa in my head — the real trip was obviously more tame, but this is how I fantasize it should’ve gone. We stepped into the sauna, towels clutched. Adults-only, nudity required. My wife — let’s call her P. — was shy but buzzing. One man already there: late 30s, lean, stubbled, cock thick and soft against his thigh. Towel on the bench, not on him. P. sat low, eyes snagging on him. I saw it. Fuck, she’s looking. My stomach flipped — nerves, jealousy, heat. “He’s huge,” she whispered, giggling.
“You okay with him staring?”
She met my eyes. “If you are.” Green. Her towel slipped. Breasts out, nipples hard from steam. She parted her thighs — just enough. A deliberate flash of her pussy. I leaned in. “You like him seeing everything?”
“Yes,” she breathed. “I want him to watch.” His cock twitched, thickened. One slow stroke. Five minutes felt like fifty. Then: “I’m soaked. Follow me.” Open shower: granite, two rain-heads, no doors. I pinned her to the tiles, slid inside. “What if he follows?”
Her grin was wicked. “I hope he does.” Footsteps. There he was — towel barely hiding his hard-on. I froze mid-thust. “Stop?”
“No,” she said, turning to face him. “Let him watch us fuck.” She lifted a leg to the wall. Water streamed over her tits, down to where I filled her. He dropped the towel, stroked fast — eyes locked on her bouncing breasts, her spread lips. P. sank to her knees. Took me deep, throat tight, eyes on him. Pulled off: “I want to suck him too.” The words detonated me. I spun her, slammed in from behind. “Show him your pussy.”
She did — wide open, dripping. His hand blurred. He came hard — ropes hitting the tiles, splashing her chest. She scooped it, tasted him, moaned. Her fingers rubbed her clit. “He’s watching me come—”
She shattered, pussy clenching. I followed, flooding her. He nodded, left. P. laughed — shy, exhilarated.
“That’s how I wish it really happened.”